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The blog of Andrew Jones.
I am the Project Director for the Boaz Project. We are developing a support structure for church in the emerging culture. My blog is about God, spirituality, new media and new expressions of church. Currently nominated for best blog award.
Jack Chick is the most succesful underground comic artist in the world. Since the 1960's he has produced over half a billion pocket sized religious comics (also called tracts). First printed in 1964, 'This Was Your Life!' has sold over 80 million copies, making it the world's most famous tract. The secret fun spot is proud to bring you the first-ever fully authorized, flash animated version of Jack's masterpiece.
Moffsoft FreeCalc is a great replacement for your existing Windows calculator. It not only includes the standard Windows calculator functionality but also the following added features:
THE Vision...
SO this guy comes up to me and says "Whats the vision? What's the big idea?" I open my mouth and words come out like this....
The Vision?
The vision is JESUS -
obsessively, dangerously, undeniably Jesus.
The vision is an army of young people. You see Bones?
I see an army!
And they are FREE from Materialism.
They Laugh at 9-5 little Prisons
They could eat caviar on monday and crusts on tuesday.
They wouldn't even notice.
They know the meaning of the matrix, the way the west was won.
They are mobile like the wind they belong to the nations.
they need no past port {passport]. People write their addresses in pencil and wonder at their strange existance. they are free yet they are slaves of the hurting and Dirty and DYING
Whats the VISION?
The vision is holiness that hurts the eyes. it Makes children laugh and adults angry.
It gave up the game of minimum integrity long ago to reach for the stars. It scorns the good and strains for the best. It is dangerously pure.
Light flickers from every secret motive, every private conversation.
It loves people away from their suicide tears, their satan games.
This is an army that will lay its life down for the cause.
A million times a day its soldiers choose to lose that some day they might win the great "WELL DONE" of faithful sons and daughters.
Such heroes are as radical monday morning as sunday night. they don't need fame from names. Instead they grin quietly upwards and hear the crowds chanting again and again "COME ON"
and this is the sound of the underground. The whisper of history in the making. Foundations shaking. Revolutionaries dreaming once again. Mystery is scheming in whispers. Conspiracy is breathing... this is the sound of the underground. and the army is discipl(in)ed.
Young people who beat their bodies into submission. Every soldier would take a bullet for his comrade at arms. the tattoo on their back boasts "For me to live is Christ and to die is gain"
Sacrifice fuels the fire of victory in their upward eyes
Winners, Martyrs
who can stop them?
Can hormones hold them back?
Can failure succeed?
Can fear scare them or death kill them? And the generation prays like a dying man with groans beyond talking, with warrior cries, sulphuric tears and with great barrow loads of laughter! Waiting - watching: 24:7 - 365
Whatever it takes they will give:
Breaking the rules. Shaking mediocrity from its cosy little hide. laying down their rights and their precious little wrongs, laughing at labels, fasting essentials.
Advertisers cannot mould them, hollywood cannot hold them. Peer pressure is powerless to shake their resolve at late night parties before the cockerel cries. They are incredibly cool, dangerously attractive inside - on the outside? they hardly care. they wear clothes as costumes to communicate and celebrate but never to hide.
Would they surrender their image or popularity?
They would lay down their very lives - swap seats with the man on death row - guilty as hell. A throne for an electric chair.
With blood and sweat and many tears, with sleepless nights and fruitless days, they pray as if it depends on God and live as if it depends on them.
Their DNA choose JESUS . (he breathes out, they breathe in) their subconscious sings. they had a blood transfusion with Jesus.
Their words make demons scream in shopping centres. Don't you hear them coming?
Herald the weirdos!
Summon the losers and the FREAKS
Here come the frightened and forgotten with fire in their eyes. they walk tall and trees applaud, skyscrapers bow, mountains are dwarfed by these children of another dimension. thjeir prayers summon the hounds of heaven and invoke the ancient dream of eden.
And this vision will be. It will come to pass, it will come easily, it will come soon. How do I know? Because this is the longing of creation itself, the groaning of the spirit, the very dream of God.
My tomorrow is his today. My distant hope is his 3D. My feeble, whispered, faithless prayer invokes a thunderous, resounding, bone-shaking great AMEN from Angels, heroes of the faith, from Christ himself. And he is the original dreamer, the ultimate winner
GUARANTEED.
© Pete Greig The Vision ___ prayer
