A sole, lonely swirl of dust stirred at Ezekiel’s feet as he surveyed the desolate plain. Conspicuous heaps of debris and scrub brush encircled clumps of bones, scattered throughout the valley as far as the eye could see.
The remnants of a once mighty army—fallen, unburied, forgotten—lay strewn where life had left them.
Families with lost fathers, mothers who could no longer hold their sons, wives left widowed and abandoned, a nation in despair, and communities in chaos… it was a chilling memorial to loss and devastation.
Why would God bring Ezekiel to such a place?
“Son of man, can these bones live?”
Ezekiel started. He had walked through the heaps in bewilderment. The closest semblance he had seen to life was a lizard scurrying through the scrub.
Perhaps in his frail, human thinking, he reasoned, “Well, the decaying bodies can feed the soil for the scrub to grow.” Perhaps his thinking didn’t even make it that far.
The scene was so scant, Ezekiel could not even bring himself to say a “You can do anything, God!” He couldn’t even begin to formulate how the loss in that valley could be made right.
So many times, we find ourselves in a valley of dry bones: the dreams have all but dissipated under the weight of harsh reality. Friendships and family relationships have disintegrated. Perhaps the career or the ministry—the proverbial basket you’ve place all your eggs in—has all but self-destructed, and you’re left holding ashes of the expectations and hopes you once had.
So many times, we find ourselves in a valley of dry bones: the dreams have all but dissipated under the weight of harsh reality.
Genessa Torsy
It is in those moments, we find ourselves taking stock of our lives, and, often, it doesn’t appear to add up to much. Add to that the detractors and wagging tongues on the edge of our valley, and it seems to be the end.
Not long ago, I found myself sizing up my life, the culmination of which was unimpressive, small, dead, and dry.
I trudged through memory lane, a truly desolate and parched place as I began to tally up the sum of my successes and my failures. I felt so much like Ezekiel. And when posed with the question, “Can these dead things live?” I could not think of a single word of faith.
All I could do, like that great prophet, was lift tearful eyes and pray, “Only You know, God. I don’t know any more.” I had reached the end of me. I had nothing left to give: No more plans and schemes to reach my goals; no more visions for tomorrow; and the smiling mask I had adorned so many times before as I pushed through struggle after struggle, was beginning to show cracks and wear.
It was then, I heard a whisper, “This is not the end of your story.”
It was then, I heard a whisper, “This is not the end of your story.”
Genessa Torsy
Suddenly, I realized I had been writing my own epitaph based solely on this trial, but this wasn’t the end. This was just part of the process.
In 2nd Corinthians 12:9, Paul wrote of his own thorn in the flesh, where God said, “My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.”
Paul responded, “Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”
The end of me…is not the end of my story. It is simply the beginning of God taking the pen!
To Ezekiel, God challenged, “Preach! Preach to the bones!”
To us today, God calls, “Preach! Preach to the dead things in your life! Preach! Declare what the Lord has done for you! Preach to the wind and prophecy what God’s Word has promised!”
Suddenly, in that valley, the winds began to stir and years of decay and hopelessness were swept aside. Bone linked to bone until complete figures arose to fill the valley—a renewed, re-fleshed, replenished army of men ready for battle—risen in the power of the Lord!
They had come to the end of man’s strength but God had preserved those bones for a purpose!
Miraculously, not one bone was missing! Not one femur had been carried off into the wilderness by a predator; not one jawbone had been whittled down by the gnawing teeth of the jackal. All the pieces needed to raise those men had been preserved and held until God’s breath came to revive them!
As John 6:39 intimates, when you place your cares into God’s hands, He will lose nothing!
In your weakest moments, you may not have eloquent words of faith but if you can simply lift the broken pieces to the Master and say, “Thou Knowest,” He is able to raise, restore, and empower!
Today, I do not challenge you to speak to your mountain. I encourage you, speak to the bones! Speak to the visions God once gave you that you had left for dead because the wind is coming!
The end of me…is not the end of my story. It is simply the beginning of God taking the pen!
Genessa Torsy
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