We have the Word. We know the words. We say what we say, and we know what we shouldsay. We repeat them often enough. We try to stir up enough faith to believe. We convince ourselves that we are holy, that we are doing what the Lord wants—but to what end?
How do we reach the end of ourselves, the end of all this stuff, to see God’s power manifest, present, and carried with us again?
Beloved, hear the call of the Spirit: return to the fire of His presence.
Not to the words only. Not to the form. Not to the motion. But to the living presence of the Lord.
We say the right things. We know the Scriptures. We quote the prophets. We recite the creeds. We cry, “Lord, Lord,” and we work in His name. But the aching question remains: Where is the power? Where is the trembling of the ground under His footsteps? Where is the weight of glory that makes men weep and fall on their faces?
O generation—you have built much, but have you touched the hem of His robe? You have filled the air with worship, but have you heard His voice in the secret place? You’ve followed strategies and ministries and models, but have you fallen in love with the Lord Himself? You are not alone—I, too, have walked this path. You are just like me. But we cannot stay here.
The time has come for holy desperation. The time has come to say with tears and trembling:
“Lord, we have nothing left but You.”
What does that mean? It means the idols must fall. It means we throw down the golden calves of comfort, ego, platform, and applause. It means we stop clinging to religion that denies the power of God—and we press in until the fire falls again. It means the pursuit of His presence becomes everything. Not a side note. Not a sermon point. Everything.
O brother. O sister. O weary heart—have you reached the end of yourself yet?
When your strength fails, He becomes your strength. When your words fall flat, His Spirit groans with power. When your plans are spent and your hands are empty—then, finally, you are ready. You are not disqualified because you’re weak. You are disqualified only if you still trust in your own strength.
Believers gathered in deep intercessory prayer, lifting silent groanings before God, surrounded by symbols of His covenant promises.
God waits—for those who will weep between the porch and the altar, for those who will rend their hearts and not just their garments.
“Return to Me with all your heart,” says the Lord, “and I will return to you” Joel 2:12–13, NASB).
A holy cry rises at sunset—the shofar sounds, declaring to heaven and earth: this world belongs to the Lord.
Let the shofar blast awaken you. Shake yourself from the dust! The King is at the door!
Will He find faith? Will He find fire?
Or will He find us asleep in the comfort of our programs, while His presence waits outside?
Return to the fire of His presence.
Return with fasting. Return with weeping. Return with longing. He is not far. He waits for the brokenhearted. He dwells with the contrite and lowly of spirit. Let the cry rise again from the depths of your soul:
“We have nothing left but You.”
And beloved—He is enough.
A Prayer for the Returning Heart
Father, we have wandered in our own ways. We’ve sung Your songs but not sought Your face. We’ve built our altars, but we left off the fire. Have mercy on us, O God. Strip us of every false thing. Let the fear of the Lord return to our hearts. We cry out—not for blessings, not for breakthrough, not for platforms—but for You.
We want You, Yeshua. We need You, Ruach HaKodesh. Consume us. Burn away everything that hinders love. Let the fire fall again—not around us, but in us. Make us the kind of people who carry Your presence. Let the world see again that You are not an idea.
You are the Living God. In the holy name of Yeshua,
Return to the Lord. You have wandered long enough. You have tried to make sense of life through your own eyes, to map out mysteries with your mind—but the deeper you search, the more you realize: His ways are higher, His wisdom deeper, His presence nearer than you thought. Scripture cries out like a trumpet in this hour: “Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unfathomable are His judgments and how untraceable are His ways!” (Romans 11:33, AMP).
Do you not see? You were never meant to carry the weight of your own understanding. The Lord is not a puzzle to solve but a King to behold. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:5–6, NASB). Yet how many have traded trust for control? How many have exalted their own insight above God’s perfect wisdom, forgetting to return?
“He looked at me—not past me. Not through me. At me.”
On the shore of grace, Peter meets the eyes of mercy and knows—He came back for me.
It is time to repent—not just from sin, but from self-sufficiency. “For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has been His counselor?” (Romans 11:34, AMP). He is not waiting for your advice. He is calling for your surrender. The world tempts us to build kingdoms of knowledge, towers of self-made success—but the Spirit says, return. Return to the awe. Return to the trembling. Return to the wonder of a God whose ways are not like ours.
We often seek to give to God as though we must earn His favor, as if He owes us something in return. But the Word exposes this folly: “Who has first given to Him that it would be paid back to him?” (Romans 11:35, NASB). He is not your debtor—He is your Deliverer. What gift could you offer that He has not already provided? What return could you make for grace that was freely poured out at the cross of Yeshua?
So come now, weary one. Lay down your striving and your spiritual pride. Kneel before the God who holds galaxies in His hands and still remembers your name. “From Him and through Him and to Him are all things.” (Romans 11:36, AMP). That includes you. Your story started in His heart. Your breath comes from His Spirit, and your destiny is to return to His throne.
The prophet Isaiah declared, “To whom then will you compare God? Or what likeness will you compare with Him?” (Isaiah 40:18, NASB). The answer is none. There is no one like Him. And when the Lord reveals His greatness, the only response is worship. Not half-hearted songs, not routines in the flesh, but worship that flows from a heart undone.
Even now, the Lord is calling His people back—not to religion, not to routine, but to Himself. “Yet even now,” declares the Lord, “Return to Me with all your heart, and with fasting, weeping, and mourning; and tear your heart and not merely your garments.” (Joel 2:12–13, NASB). He does not want your performance—He wants your heart making a return to Him.
Let the Church be silent before Him again. Let the self-confident be humbled, and the broken be lifted. Let the lukewarm be set ablaze by the fire of His holiness. For the days are short, and His return draws near. “From Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever. Amen.” (Romans 11:36, AMP).
So return to the Lord. Not later. Now.
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You are the fountain, I was dry, You are the Shepherd, I walked by, But now I run, I fall, I cry— Lord, take me home, to live, not die.
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Prayer
Holy Father, I return. I have wandered in my own wisdom and worn myself with striving. But now I bow. You are God alone—unsearchable in Your wisdom, unstoppable in Your ways, and unmatched in Your glory. I give You everything, for everything comes from You. Let me walk in awe again. Let worship rise in me again. Let all I am return to You, now and forever. In the name of Yeshua, Amen.
Picture this: A vast, dry valley—scattered with the bones of saints who once burned with fire. Altars cold. Eyes dim. Prayers shallow. The wind is still, and silence hangs like a veil. Amidst this, envision dry bones holy fire rising.
But suddenly, from the east, a whisper.
From the west, a stirring.
From the north and the south, a groaning deep within the bones, where dry bones holy fire begins to stir.
The breath of God is coming.
Church of the Living God, rise to attention—this is not a suggestion, this is a summons. This is a voice crying in the wilderness of complacency. This is a prophetic trumpet shaking the walls of slumber.
“The Lord your God is in your midst, a Mighty One, a Savior [Who saves]! He will rejoice over you with joy; He will rest in His love and make no mention of past sins; He will exult over you with singing.” —Zephaniah 3:17 (AMP)
O Bride of Christ, your Beloved walks among you. He is not silent in indifference, but silent in satisfaction—longing for your return. And when you do, He will sing over you. Do you not see? Your repentance becomes His rejoicing. Your trembling becomes His melody.
But where is the trembling?
Where is the fear of the Lord that once marked the sanctuary? Can the dry bones holy fire revive this fear?
Where are the tears that once stained the altars—not because of pain, but because of His presence?
Church, you have not been called to blend in. You were born of the Spirit, raised by the Word, and commissioned by fire. You were meant to live in holiness, not entertain sin. You were meant to walk in power, not in form without force.
So hear now the call: Return to the Living God!
This is not about style.
This is not about tradition.
This is about presence—the tangible weight of the glory of God that makes knees buckle and mouths fall silent in awe, lighting the dry bones holy fire once more.
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The Spirit of the Lord says:
“Prophesy to these bones, and say to them, ‘O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord!’” —Ezekiel 37:4 (NASB)
O Church, your bones are not dead—they are dry. And dryness is not final. It is the sign that the wind must blow again.
So we call to the east: Blow, Breath of God!
We call to the west: Stir what has settled!
To the north and the south: Break the silence with the roar of revival!
Let the holy fire fall—not upon stone, but upon surrendered flesh. Let the altars be rebuilt, not with programs and policies, but with purity and praise. Let pastors weep again. Let prophets burn again. Let worshippers tremble again. Let the body be one again, filled with the same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead.
“Return to Me,” declares the Lord of armies, “and I will return to you.” —Malachi 3:7 (NASB)
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An Apostolic Charge:
Apostles—rise in boldness. Lay the foundation of repentance and truth again.
Prophets—speak not to please, but to pierce.
Evangelists—run to the lost, but cry out to the sleeping saints.
Pastors—shepherd with tears, not pride.
Teachers—wash the Bride with the water of the Word, without mixture.
Saints—this is your hour. Not to observe, but to burn.
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Let bones that once lay in the dust, Now rise with fire anew. Let every cry of “Holy!” ring With power strong and true. O Breath of God, sweep through this house, And claim Your Church once more— We live again, by mercy stirred, To worship and adore.The dry bones holy fire echoes through the congregation.
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A Prayer to Plant in Faith
Lord Yeshua, We have grown dry. We have filled our altars with noise, but not with fire. We repent for every form without substance, every song without surrender. Blow upon us again, Ruach Elohim. Ignite our pulpits, our prayer rooms, our gatherings, our homes. Let us burn with a holiness that purifies and a love that overflows. We return to You—not with words only, but with trembling hearts. Breathe on us, and we will live. In Your Name, we rise. Amen.
This is not just another message—this is a cry from the Spirit of the Living God. Open your heart. Don’t scroll past. Don’t silence the stirring. The time is too late and the hour too urgent. These words are not ink—they are fire. They are bread for the starving soul, water for the parched spirit. Eat. Listen. Engage. Heaven is calling, not with suggestion but with summons. The Lord is seeking those who will not harden their hearts but will tremble at His Word. Beloved, return. Return before the door shuts. Return before the harvest ends. Return while there is still breath in your lungs. This is for you. This is for now.
Lay it down.
All of it—the noise, the endless scrolling, the fear-soaked headlines, the idols of comfort and control. Lay down the false peace of passivity. Tear from your hands the chains of distraction. The world is loud, relentless, and poisoned with deception. But the voice of the Lord still thunders above it all. The Shepherd calls. The Spirit groans. And the Father waits.
Sound the mighty spiritual shofar! Not the trumpets of man, not the hollow horns of politics or media spin—but the true shofar of Heaven, the sound that shakes foundations and splits the sky. And today, let everyone hear the call to sound the shofar. Let it echo across the nations, from mountain to valley, from city to wilderness. Let the angels ready their ranks. Let the demons flee in terror. Let it be declared boldly to every principality in the air:
This world belongs to the Lord—and your time is short.
The throne of God is not up for debate. It cannot be silenced or censored. His kingdom does not rise and fall with human empires. The earth is the Lord’s, and all it contains, the world, and those who dwell in it (Psalm 24:1, NASB). And yet, so many have forgotten. We have traded His glory for entertainment. His truth for tolerance. His presence for convenience. The enemy has numbed the Church, lulled her into slumber with comforts, busyness, and fear. But the alarm is sounding—and it’s time to wake up.
You powers of the air—hear the sound!
Yeshua reigns. His cross crushed your authority. His resurrection sealed your defeat. And His Spirit now lives in us, the blood-bought, fire-baptized, uncompromising remnant. We are not afraid. We are not backing down. The King is coming, and His Bride is rising.
Today is the day.
Not next week. Not when it’s convenient. Not when the calendar clears or the kids are older or the crisis passes. Now.If you hear His voice today, do not harden your heart. You know the tug in your spirit—that’s God. You feel the ache in your chest—that’s your soul remembering its true home. You feel the heat in your bones—that’s the fire He wants to fan into flame.
The world is choosing. You must choose.
Will you serve the gods of the age—convenience, self, popularity—or will you stand in the fire and declare, “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” (Joshua 24:15, NASB)? The days of playing Church are over. We need consecrated hearts, holy lips, and knees that bend only to the King of Kings. We need altars, not stages. Repentance, not performance.Fire, not fog machines. Sound the shofar today to declare this transformation.
The spiritual shofar is not just a call to arms—it’s a call to surrender. To throw down your idols and come trembling to the mercy seat. To rend your heart and cry, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me” (Psalm 51:10, NASB). You were not made for survival—you were made for glory. You were not saved to be silent—you were redeemed to roar.
So rise up, Church. Sound the shofar. Fall on your face. Cry out for mercy. Let the tears fall. Let the fire come.
Let your worship shake the heavens. Let your life echo with eternity.
Yeshua reigns. The King is coming. And we belong to Him.
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Prayer
El Shaddai, sound the shofar of Heaven over our lives today. Tear through every layer of apathy and burn away what doesn’t belong. We lay down every idol, every distraction, every allegiance that isn’t to You. Let the kingdoms of this world tremble and the powers of darkness flee. Awaken Your Bride. Awaken me. Clothe us in righteousness, anoint us with boldness, and mark us with Your fire. We declare today: You reign, Yeshua. You alone.This is Your world. We are Your people. And this is the hour of Your glory.
In Your holy, powerful name—Amen.
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Our Response
We respond by seeking…
Holiness instead of compromise
Truth instead of convenience
Prayer instead of performance
Repentance instead of reputation
Worship instead of worry
Consecration instead of comfort
Obedience instead of opinion
Scripture instead of screens
Revival instead of routine
The fear of the Lord instead of the approval of man
More of God instead of more of the world
Let this be the cry of our hearts: “Lord, we seek You first.”
Beloved, hear the voice crying out across the winds of this age, for the sons of Issachar still speak. Their bones rest, but their wisdom lives. If they walked among us now—those anointed to understand the times and know what Israel ought to do—they would not whisper comforts or opinions, but proclaim the heartbeat of El Elyon. Their voice would shake pulpits and awaken sleepers. This is not the time for compromise, but for consecration.
Beloved, awaken! You are being lulled to sleep by convenience.
Comfort has become your comforter; preference has replaced presence. The fear of God has grown rare in the sanctuary. The gatherings of the saints have been treated as optional, as though the Lord Himself had not said, “Do not forsake assembling together” (Hebrews 10:25). But the call of Issachar thunders: “Return to the fear of the Lord!” Let the shofar sound once more. Let fasting be restored. Let solemn assemblies rise again to understand the times we are in.
“Blow the shofar in Zion! Consecrate a fast, proclaim a solemn assembly.” — Joel 2:15 (AMP)
Beloved, discern the shaking. God is speaking.
The turmoil you see is not random. This shaking is divine. Earth and heaven tremble at His voice. Systems are failing. Foundations are exposed. Will you continue building upon sand? Or will you lay hold of the Cornerstone, Yeshua? Do not return to Egypt. Do not trust in chariots. Understand these tumultuous times.
“Once more I will shake not only the earth, but also the heaven.” — Hebrews 12:26–27 (NASB)
Beloved, rise—not with influence, but with holiness.
This is not the hour for branding, but for brokenness. Purity must return to the Bride. The sons of Issachar would weep at a Church content with giftedness but bankrupt of obedience. They would cry aloud: Let prayer altars burn again! Let Scripture reign supreme! Let shepherds feed the sheep and stop entertaining goats! They would urge us to understand these trials.
“Judgment begins with the house of God.” — 1 Peter 4:17 (NASB)
Beloved, this is a divine window—do not waste it.
Now is the time to walk in the Spirit. Now is the time to contend for awakening. Now is the time to sow the seeds of weeping that will reap eternal joy. This season will not last. The Beloved must move while the doors remain open. Understanding the urgency of the times is vital.
“Seek the Lord while He may be found; Call on Him while He is near.” — Isaiah 55:6 (NASB)
Beloved, stop looking for Pharaoh’s favor—look to God’s hand.
You cannot rely on Babylon and serve Zion. Jehovah Jireh is your source. Prepare your heart for manna, not menus. He will feed you in the wilderness, but not if you crave the leeks of Egypt. He is jealous for your trust. Understand that the times require complete reliance on Him.
“Come out of her, My people…” — Revelation 18:4 (NASB)
Beloved, disciple your children while there is still time.
The next generation will not stand by inheritance alone. They must know the God of Abraham as their God. Restore the family altar. Fathers, lift your voice in prayer. Mothers, guard the gates with fire. Raise warriors, not watchers. Ensuring they understand the significance of these times is crucial.
“Teach them diligently… when you sit… when you walk.” — Deuteronomy 6:7 (NASB)
O Beloved, wake up. You are not in a season of maintenance—you are in a season of war.
The time is short. The hour is late. The King is coming. Prepare the way. Understand the times. Know what to do.
Prayer
Father, awaken our hearts. Pierce through every false comfort and shake every counterfeit foundation. Teach us to walk in holiness, to love the truth, and to prepare for the coming of our King. Let Your fear return to our assemblies, and Your fire to our altars. May we raise up generations who know You, who worship in Spirit and in truth. May we understand the times and grow in wisdom. In the name of Yeshua, Amen.
For the Lord searches not the surface, but the soul. He weighs the heart. He pierces between thought and intention. And He has placed within you a flame, small yet sacred—your God-given discernment. It is the lamp of conscience. It is the witness of the Spirit that testifies when truth walks by, and when lies disguise themselves as light.
Let your conscience not grow dull. Let your flame not flicker. Tend it, O child of God, and awaken to the fear of the Lord, for it is the beginning of wisdom and the secret path to His presence.
The Fear of the Lord Makes You See
We know the fear of the Lord—not as dread, but as delight. It is the trembling awe of standing before the Holy One, the I AM, the consuming fire. It is the heart bowed low in worship, lips trembling with obedience, soul stilled in reverence. And because we know His holiness, we cannot stay silent. We urge others to be reconciled to Him, because we ourselves have been pierced by His truth.
He sees us, beloved. We are plainly known to God (2 Corinthians 5:11, AMP). Nothing is hidden from His eyes. And now I ask you: do we live plainly before one another, before your conscience—your God-given discernment—that voice inside you that the Spirit has sanctified? Can you feel the pull of His Spirit within you even now, calling you closer?
Cast Off Appearances—Come Into the Light
Do not be like those who boast in outward things. They decorate themselves with religion, but their hearts are far. They speak of virtue, but know not the One who is holy. You, however, are not called to walk by sight. You are called to walk by the fire of discernment, fed by the oil of His Spirit.
The world will mock you. They called Paul mad. They will call you strange. But let your conscience be ruled not by their voices, but by the voice of the Shepherd. If we are out of our minds, let it be for God. If we are steady, it is for your strengthening (v.13).
Love Is the Fire That Consumes the Self
Hear this—the love of Christ controls and compels us (v.14). This love is not weak. It is not shallow. It is not selfish. It is consuming, jealous, holy, and eternal. It burns away all lesser loves. And it becomes the reason we no longer live for ourselves.
Yeshua died for all, and so we count ourselves already dead. We have no right to our own lives anymore. We belong to the One who rose again. Therefore, we live not for comfort, not for applause, not for success, but for Him who died and was raised for our sake (v.15).
O soul, are you still living for yourself? Lay it down. Die to it. Let His love compel you, let His flame consume the old. Let Him teach your conscience to beat with His burden and burn with His purpose.
Keep the Lamp Burning
There was a lampstand in the temple, made of pure gold, fed by oil, tended daily. That lamp never went out. It gave light to the priests in the holy place. That is your God-given discernment. It is your conscience lit by the Holy Spirit. If you neglect it, it will flicker. If you grieve Him, it will dim.
Tend it with prayer. Clean it with repentance. Feed it with the Word. Guard it with obedience. Let nothing unclean cross your heart without confession. The fear of the Lord will keep the fire burning. The love of Yeshua will make it blaze.
A Call to Walk Closer
You cannot walk near to the Lord with a numb conscience. You cannot follow Him with a heart half-alive. Come closer. Let the fire of discernment expose what’s false in you and what’s real in Him. Live for the Audience of One. Let His gaze be enough. Let His Spirit guide your every step.
This is not a time for shallow living. This is a time to burn. This is the hour to awaken your conscience and walk boldly in truth. God-given discernment is your gift, your guard, and your guide. Receive it, protect it, and live by it.
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Prayer:
O Holy One,
Light the lamp within me. Let my conscience burn with Your truth. Awaken me from shallow living. Make me tremble again at Your Word. Teach me to live no longer for myself, but for Yeshua, who died and rose for me. Let the fire of the fear of the Lord burn in my bones. Let the love of Christ compel me forward. I surrender my heart to You—search me, know me, purify me. Let my life shine as a lamp in the holy place. In Yeshua’s name, Amen.
Beloved, I write to you not with lofty words, but with a trembling heart. There is no God like our God—El Shaddai—faithful to His covenant and overflowing in mercy toward those who walk before Him with undivided hearts (2 Chronicles 6:14, AMP). And yet, I ask you: Where has the reverence gone? Where is the stillness before His Majesty? Where is the breathless adoration due His holy name?
Have we not traded the fear of the Lord for comfort? The wonder of His presence for polished performance?
The prophet Isaiah saw the Lord sitting on a throne, lofty and exalted, with the train of His robe filling the temple. “And the foundations of the thresholds trembled at the voice of him who called out, and the temple was filling with smoke. Then I said, ‘Woe is me, for I am ruined!’” (Isaiah 6:4–5, AMP). This was not a man entertaining religious routine—this was a man undone by the glory of the living God.
And yet, in our generation, we whisper His name with casual hearts. We structure our services to control the clock, not to create space for the Spirit. A.W. Tozer wrote, “The whole Christian family stands desperately in need of a restoration of penitence, humility, and tears.” I ask you: Do you feel that ache? That groaning deep within that cries out for more than a sermon and a song? Do you yearn for that breathless adoration of His presence?
Breathless adoration is the soul’s response to the unveiled glory of God. It cannot be summoned by emotion or noise. It is born in the heart that sees Him rightly—holy, exalted, unchanging. The psalmist declared, “Let all the earth fear and worship the Lord; Let all the inhabitants of the world stand in awe of Him” (Psalm 33:8, AMP). This is the posture He desires: not mere participation but reverence.
Yeshua rebuked the religious spirit that honored God with lips but withheld the heart. “But in vain do they worship Me, for they teach as doctrines the precepts of men” (Matthew 15:9, AMP). When worship is reduced to routine, it loses its power. When songs are sung without surrender, they ring hollow. We must repent of going through the motions while ignoring the One we claim to adore.
Let your heart be pierced again.
“Rend your hearts [in sorrow and contrition] and not your garments.” Return to the Lord your God, for He is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger, abounding in lovingkindness [faithful to His covenant] (Joel 2:13, AMP). This is not a harsh word—it is a merciful call. A summons to deeper waters. A whisper from the throne room saying, “Come closer with breathless adoration.”
The early Church understood this. They prayed in one accord, they waited on the Spirit, and “when they had prayed, the place where they were meeting together was shaken, and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit” (Acts 4:31, AMP). That shaking came not from chaos but from unity, hunger, and fear of the Lord.
O Church, we need that holy shaking again.
Not noise—but nearness.
Not performance—but presence.
Not religion—but fire.
The psalmist cried, “One thing I have asked of the Lord, and that I will seek: That I may dwell in the house of the Lord [in His presence] all the days of my life, To gaze upon the beauty [the delightful loveliness and majestic grandeur] of the Lord and to meditate in His temple” (Psalm 27:4, AMP). This is the language of breathless adoration. It does not ask, “What will I get?” but cries, “Let me gaze upon Him!”
Let us cast down our pride. Let us abandon the polished and return to the pure. Let the altar be rebuilt—not with perfect programs but yielded hearts. Fall to your knees. Let the Spirit strip away everything false and make room again for holy awe and breathless adoration.
The Lord still waits to be gracious to you. “Therefore the Lord waits [expectantly and longs] to be gracious to you, and therefore He waits on high to have compassion on you. For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who long for Him [since He will never fail them]” (Isaiah 30:18, AMP).
Return to breathless adoration. Return to the Presence. Return to your first love.
Prayer
Abba, we have grown too comfortable. We have sung without trembling and prayed without awe. We have mistaken activity for anointing. Forgive us. Draw us back to the place of wonder. Pierce our hearts, Lord, and awaken us to the beauty of Your holiness with breathless adoration.
Yeshua, teach us to wait again. Let every gathering, every song, the nearness of Your Spirit mark every prayer. Let holy fear return to Your Church. Let reverence rise again like incense before Your throne.
Ruach HaKodesh, breathe upon dry bones. Shake what needs to be shaken. Strip away the superficial and make us people of fire—marked by breathless adoration.
We seek Your face, not Your hand. Dwell among us again. In Yeshua’s holy name, Amen.
