Music is one of God’s greatest venues to speak to me. It opens my soul.
When depression bore its weight the heaviest, I would get lost in the beauty that danced through my headphones. Music took me somewhere else, and I longed for the escape.
In January, I picked up Chris Tomlin’s newest album (Burning Lights), and I found myself listening to one section of the song “Awake, My Soul” over and over and over again. I didn’t even like the song that much, but the artist Lacrae speaks a portion of Ezekiel 37, and the words burned into me.
The hand of the Lord was on me, and he brought me out by the Spirit of the Lord and set me in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me back and forth among them, and I saw a great many bones on the floor of the valley, bones that were very dry. He asked me, “Son of man, can these bones live?”
I said, “Sovereign Lord, you alone know.”
Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! This is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord.’”
So I prophesied as I was commanded. And as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them.
Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to it, ‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says: Come, breath, from the four winds and breathe into these slain, that they may live.’”
I was the dry bones.
I was scattered and pulled apart. I needed God to breathe into me so I could come back to life.
I could picture my dry, withered soul lying with the stillness of the desert taking more and more of me. I was grasping for anything that would offer a respite.
And then I could picture the wind beginning to stir. God’s breath was coming. From the east, from the west, from the north and the south. It would fill me, and my body would be lifted. Color returned and my eyes could open.
Yesterday, I was listening to a David Crowder song (Oh God, Give Us Rest), and music, again, stirred these images.
I am not the dry bones anymore, but I still need the breath of God. I still desperately need it to fill me and give me life. I need it continue to shine.
Would you open up Heaven’s glory light
Shine on in and give these dead bones life
Oh shine on in and give these dead bones life
Let it shine, let it shine
On and on, on and on, come to life