The Valley of Dry Bones
37 The hand of the Lord was upon me, and he brought me out in the Spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of the valley;[a] it was full of bones. 2 And he led me around among them, and behold, there were very many on the surface of the valley, and behold, they were very dry. 3 And he said to me, “Son of man, can these bones live?” And I answered, “O Lord God, you know.” 4 Then he said to me, “Prophesy over these bones, and say to them, O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. 5 Thus says the Lord God to these bones: Behold, I will cause breath[b] to enter you, and you shall live. 6 And I will lay sinews upon you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live, and you shall know that I am the Lord.”
7 So I prophesied as I was commanded. And as I prophesied, there was a sound, and behold, a rattling,[c] and the bones came together, bone to its bone. 8 And I looked, and behold, there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them. But there was no breath in them. 9 Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to the breath, Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe on these slain, that they may live.” 10 So I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived and stood on their feet, an exceedingly great army.
11 Then he said to me, “Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel. Behold, they say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are indeed cut off.’ 12 Thereforeprophesy, and say to them, Thus says the Lord God: Behold, I will open your graves and raise you from your graves, O my people. And I will bring you into the land of Israel. 13 Andyou shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and raise you from your graves, O my people. 14 And I will put my Spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you in your own land. Then you shall know that I am the Lord; I have spoken, and I will do it, declares the Lord.”
Versículos do Ezequiel 37 do livro Ezequiel da Bíblia.
O Vale de Ossos Secos
1 A mão do Senhor estava sobre mim, e por seu Espírito ele me levou a um vale cheio de ossos.
2 Ele me levou de um lado para outro, e pude ver que era enorme o número de ossos no vale e que os ossos estavam muito secos.
3 Ele me perguntou: "Filho do homem, estes ossos poderão tornar a viver?"
Eu respondi: "Ó Soberano Senhor, só tu o sabes".
4 Então ele me disse: "Profetize a estes ossos e diga-lhes: Ossos secos, ouçam a palavra do Senhor!
5 Assim diz o Soberano, o Senhor, a estes ossos: Farei um espírito entrar em vocês, e vocês terão vida.
6 Porei tendões em vocês e farei aparecer carne sobre vocês e os cobrirei com pele; porei um espírito em vocês, e vocês terão vida. Então vocês saberão que eu sou o Senhor".
7 E eu profetizei conforme a ordem recebida. Enquanto profetizava, houve um barulho, um som de chocalho, e os ossos se juntaram, osso com osso.
8 Olhei, e os ossos foram cobertos de tendões e de carne, e depois de pele; mas não havia espírito neles.
9 A seguir ele me disse: "Profetize ao espírito; profetize, filho do homem, e diga-lhe: Assim diz o Soberano, o Senhor: Venha desde os quatro ventos, ó espírito, e sopre dentro desses mortos, para que vivam".
10 Profetizei conforme a ordem recebida, e o espírito entrou neles; eles receberam vida e se puseram em pé. Era um exército enorme!
11 Então ele me disse: "Filho do homem, estes ossos são toda a nação de Israel. Eles dizem: 'Nossos ossos se secaram e nossa esperança desvaneceu-se; fomos exterminados'.
12 Por isso profetize e diga-lhes: Assim diz o Soberano, o Senhor: Ó meu povo, vou abrir os seus túmulos e fazê-los sair; trarei vocês de volta à terra de Israel.
13 E, quando eu abrir os seus túmulos e os fizer sair, vocês, meu povo, saberão que eu sou o Senhor.
14 Porei o meu Espírito em vocês e vocês viverão, e eu os estabelecerei em sua própria terra. Então vocês saberão que eu, o Senhor, falei e fiz. Palavra do Senhor".
You imagines that after the last crossroads , there is no more hope for you . You came from a broken marriage , destroyed with a absolute feel ashamed until to tell of what happened .
You were so humiliated that until can distribute humiliation for those who need it . You can sell , rent, give humiliation and yet there will still be enough .
You may be living away from their parents at the last level of degradation iluminated by candlelight , in a situation of misery so great that already sworn death by at least two different moneylenders.
You may be so soaked in alcohol that if anyone simply yell fire instantaneously you burn.
You no feel the taste half the things you eat. You do not feel more the taste of the product mix in the alcohol sold in pharmacies to make him inedible for humans. It may be that all you have is the result of money from prostitution and has discovered that his youth and your dreams were sold for almost anything. And what remains on the mirror is a shadow that supports itself standing by the strength of antidepressants that given to a horse would do he sleep forever.
You may have gone in so many sordid feasts that no longer knows more what is the purity and participated in practices so strange , so stupid and so bizarre that even thinking about them gives you chills and nausea.
You can look at herself the slave of a terrible situation , which is renewed year after year, after spending all hopes of improvement chasing every resource imaginable. And no longer knows if what 's left of you is worth rebuilding. When thinking about tomorrow you do not see.
When thinking about the now and the dreams and aspirations of yesterday only left over bones, very dry bones abandoned and bones mixed with thousands of other bones without identity.
Because you no knows more who you are. Everything you loved is no longer there . All you wanted was lost . You fight valiantly to remake the universe , but the weight of grief involve you as a robe all day and its fragility simply denies to your arms the force.
His soul would rise mountains , if there were forces.
And there is the prophet in front of the hopelessness , of death, of hidden tragedy, of loss, a cemetery of the destitute and defeated people in battle. they lost the war, the life , the hope , and the world of tomorrow .
An immense valley , impressive, a gloomy valley . And in the face of destruction and ruin the prophet hears : " Son of man, these bones can make a living? "
You who is a bone dry would give a parched laugh, would give a softly laugh, if you could , for such a claim.
The prophet consistent with his humanity answers the response how a human being:
- I have no idea. I do not know . You asked me a question for which you are the one who has the answer.
I wanted to tell you bone, bone from the bones , that the God of Ezekiel looks for you now.
Wanted to tell you , bone between bones , stripped of hope and empty as an armadillo skinned, that the same Spirit who gave the vision of Ezekiel still do crazy things.
Still shows and performs impossible things.
The Spirit of God does not show in visions what he is not able to do in reality. His tremendous resources are present and available to every human being . And even for some pieces of your the soul , what of your psyche remains.
You that is looking without hope in direction to heaven needs understand that his prayer will be heard as thunder rumbling in the skies.
If faith sprout through the cracks of your construction abated , if in your mind you rebelling against this miserable condition in a way that you never imagined , absurd, crazy , bold, transcendent and believe and pursue what Christ promised , and promises to hold
... Resected bone ... you will no longer be ...
The Scripture not brought forth us a story of terror to frame an idea of spiritual rebirth merely human. God does not call the spirit of his prophets to give them an affectionate parable , an illustration of things that candid inebriate soul and make golden nightingales singing in our imaginations .
The Spirit of God does not morphine. It shows what can and what will. He does not want to tell you a sweet story to keep hope: Look! , Look! , Despite this crappy life you 're living , stay calm !
The Spirit of God does not give visions to be self-help book.
He shows the size of his deity, his power, his authority, his command.
His strength absurd, and absolutely real to fill, renovate and rebuild you if necessary.
He is not a ghost of a tale of ancient stories you waving a fable that ennobles the soul.
He involves the creation and works powerfully for now, while you think you read any other religious text , addressing your soul like a pirate.
He embracing your life as a passionate and tremendous voice.
He loves you, bone without identity, and declares that the war belongs to him and that he is the master and before he gives the last word there is no last word.
Do not scream bone, that which belongs to the valley that do not care and it's too late.
Listen him, bone.
Feel him, bone.
Let him do his work and recreate your life, renew your life and make you burn in your soul the will to win and and to stood with a spiritual authority that you never has tasted before.
Hear bone.
And you will see the nerves growing, to back your muscles, which did not exist and had transformed into gray, back to you.
And see the blood spilled flocking back. And again hear the heart beating full of hope and joy.
It is time to believe, bone.
And to be embraced by heavenly powers and run.
Because the rain puddles has await your feet .
Você fica imaginando que depois da ultima encruzilhada, já não há mais esperança para você. Você veio de um casamento destruído, destruído num nível tão absoluto que sente vergonha de dizer parte do que aconteceu.
Você foi tão humilhada que pode emprestar humilhação para quem dela necessitar.
Você pode vender, alugar, doar humilhação e ainda assim ainda haverá o suficiente.
Você pode estar vivendo longe de seus pais no ultimo nivel de degradação, à luz de velas, numa situação de miséria tão grande que já está jurada de morte pelo menos por dois agiotas diferentes.
Você pode estar tão encharcada de álcool que se gritarem fogo você simplesmente entra em combustão instantânea. Você já não sente o gosto de metade das coisas que come.
Você não sente mais o amargor do produto que misturam para tornar o alcool vendido em farmácias intragável para o ser humano.
Pode ser que tudo que você possui seja fruto de dinheiro da prostituição e que tenha descoberto que sua juventude e sonhos foram vendidos por quase coisa alguma.
Diante do espelho o que resta é uma sombra que se suporta em pé a força de antidepressivos que se ministrados a um cavalo o fariam dormir para sempre. Você pode ter ido em tantas festas sórdidas que já não sabe mais o que é a pureza, tendo participado de práticas tão estranhas, tão idiotas e tão bizarras que até de pensar nelas sóbria te dá calafrios e enjoos.
Você pode olhar para si mesma escrava de uma situação terrível, que se renova ano após ano, depois de gastar todas as esperanças de melhora correndo atrás de todos os recursos possíveis e imagináveis. E já não sabe mais se o que sobrou vale a pena reconstruir.
Ao pensar no amanhã você não o enxerga.
Ao pensar no agora e nos sonhos e aspirações de ontem só sobraram ossos, ossos sequíssimos, ossos abandonados e misturados a outros milhares de ossos sem identidade.
Porque você já não sabe mais quem é. Tudo que você amava já não há. Tudo que você queria se perdeu.
Você lutaria corajosamente para refazer o universo, mas o peso da tristeza de envolve como uma manto todos os dias e sua fragilidade simplesmente nega força aos braços que sua alma usaria para erguer montanhas, se houvessem forças.
E lá está o profeta diante da desesperança, da morte, da tragédia oculta, da perda, do cemitério de indigentes e derrotados nas batalhas. eles perderam a guerra, a vida, a esperança, o mundo e o amanhã.
Um vale imenso, grandioso, uma vale infinito, um vale sombrio. E diante da destruição e da ruína o profeta ouve: "Filho do homem, estes ossos poderão tornar a viver?"
Você que é osso seco e ressecado riria baixinho se pudesse rir, por tal afirmação. O profeta coerente com sua humanidade responde como homem a resposta de um ser humano.
- Eu não tenho a mínima ideia. Eu não sei. Você me fez uma pergunta para a qual você é o único que possui a resposta.
Eu queria dizer para você, osso dentre os ossos, que o Deus de Ezequiel contempla você... agora.
Queria dizer para você, osso dentre os ossos, despido de esperança e vazio como um tatu descascado, que o mesmo Espírito que concedeu a visão a Ezequiel ainda faz loucuras.
Ele ainda mostra e realiza coisas impossíveis. O Espírito de Deus não mostra em visões aquilo que ele não é capaz de fazer na realidade. Seus tremendos recursos estão presentes e disponibilizados a todo ser humano. E até para pedaços da alma, restos de psique.
Você que olha sem qualquer esperança em qualquer direção necessita entender que sua oração será ouvida como um trovão a ribombar nos céus. Se a fé brotar por entre as frestas dessa construção abatida, se em sua mente você revoltar-se contra essa condição miserável de um modo que você nunca imaginou, absurdo, louco, corajoso, transcendente e arriscar-se a crer e a buscar o que Cristo prometeu, promete e realizará...
...osso ressecado deixará de ser...
As Escrituras não trouxeram à luz uma historinha de terror pra emoldurar uma idéia de renascimento espiritual meramente humana.
Deus não convoca o espírito de seus profetas para lhes conceder uma carinhosa parábola, uma ilustração de coisas cândidas que inebriam a alma e fazem cantar rouxinóis dourados dentro de nossas imaginações.
O Espírito de Deus não oferece morfina.
Ele mostra o que é capaz e o que fará. Ele não quer te contar uma doce história de mantenha a esperança, olha, veja só, apesar dessa porcaria de vida que você está vivendo, mantenha a calma!
O Espírito de Deus não concede visões para serem livro de autoajuda. Ele mostra a dimensão de sua deidade, seu poder, sua autoridade, seu domínio. Sua força absurda, absoluta e real para encher, renovar e recriar se necessário.
Ele não é um fantasma de um conto de histórias milenares te acenando com uma fábula que enobrece a alma. Ele envolve a criação e opera poderosamente para que agora, enquanto você pensa que lê outro texto religioso qualquer, possa abordar tua alma como se fosse um pirata. E abarcar tua vida como uma voz apaixonada e tremenda.
Ele ama você osso sem identidade e declara que a guerra pertence a Ele e que ele é o senhor e antes que Ele dê a ultima palavra ...não existe ultima palavra.
Pare de gritar, osso, que você pertence ao vale! Que não se importa! E que é tarde demais!
Ouça-o osso.
Sinta-o osso.
Deixe ele fazer seu trabalho e recriar sua vida, renovar sua existência e fazer queimar em tua alma a vontade de vencer e a vontade de colocar-se de pé com uma autoridade espiritual que você jamais provou.
Ouve osso.
E você vai ver os nervos crescerem, os músculos retornando, o que não existia e que foi transformado em cinza, voltar. E o sangue derramado voltar a fluir.
E ouvir novamente o coração voltar a bater cheio de esperança e alegria. É tempo de crer, osso. E de ser abraçado por poderes celestiais e voltar a correr
Porque as poças de chuva aguardam teus pés.
You imagines that after the last crossroads , there is no more hope for you . You came from a broken marriage , destroyed with a absolute feel ashamed until to tell of what happened .
You were so humiliated that until can distribute humiliation for those who need it . You can sell , rent, give humiliation and yet there will still be enough .
You may be living away from their parents at the last level of degradation iluminated by candlelight , in a situation of misery so great that already sworn death by at least two different moneylenders.
You may be so soaked in alcohol that if anyone simply yell fire instantaneously you burn.
You no feel the taste half the things you eat. You do not feel more the taste of the product mix in the alcohol sold in pharmacies to make him inedible for humans. It may be that all you have is the result of money from prostitution and has discovered that his youth and your dreams were sold for almost anything. And what remains on the mirror is a shadow that supports itself standing by the strength of antidepressants that given to a horse would do he sleep forever.
You may have gone in so many sordid feasts that no longer knows more what is the purity and participated in practices so strange , so stupid and so bizarre that even thinking about them gives you chills and nausea.
You can look at herself the slave of a terrible situation , which is renewed year after year, after spending all hopes of improvement chasing every resource imaginable. And no longer knows if what 's left of you is worth rebuilding. When thinking about tomorrow you do not see.
When thinking about the now and the dreams and aspirations of yesterday only left over bones, very dry bones abandoned and bones mixed with thousands of other bones without identity.
Because you no knows more who you are. Everything you loved is no longer there . All you wanted was lost . You fight valiantly to remake the universe , but the weight of grief involve you as a robe all day and its fragility simply denies to your arms the force.
His soul would rise mountains , if there were forces.
And there is the prophet in front of the hopelessness , of death, of hidden tragedy, of loss, a cemetery of the destitute and defeated people in battle. they lost the war, the life , the hope , and the world of tomorrow .
An immense valley , impressive, a gloomy valley . And in the face of destruction and ruin the prophet hears : " Son of man, these bones can make a living? "
You who is a bone dry would give a parched laugh, would give a softly laugh, if you could , for such a claim.
The prophet consistent with his humanity answers the response how a human being:
- I have no idea. I do not know . You asked me a question for which you are the one who has the answer.
I wanted to tell you bone, bone from the bones , that the God of Ezekiel looks for you now.
Wanted to tell you , bone between bones , stripped of hope and empty as an armadillo skinned, that the same Spirit who gave the vision of Ezekiel still do crazy things.
Still shows and performs impossible things.
The Spirit of God does not show in visions what he is not able to do in reality. His tremendous resources are present and available to every human being . And even for some pieces of your the soul , what of your psyche remains.
You that is looking without hope in direction to heaven needs understand that his prayer will be heard as thunder rumbling in the skies.
If faith sprout through the cracks of your construction abated , if in your mind you rebelling against this miserable condition in a way that you never imagined , absurd, crazy , bold, transcendent and believe and pursue what Christ promised , and promises to hold
... Resected bone ... you will no longer be ...
The Scripture not brought forth us a story of terror to frame an idea of spiritual rebirth merely human. God does not call the spirit of his prophets to give them an affectionate parable , an illustration of things that candid inebriate soul and make golden nightingales singing in our imaginations .
The Spirit of God does not morphine. It shows what can and what will. He does not want to tell you a sweet story to keep hope: Look! , Look! , Despite this crappy life you 're living , stay calm !
The Spirit of God does not give visions to be self-help book.
He shows the size of his deity, his power, his authority, his command.
His strength absurd, and absolutely real to fill, renovate and rebuild you if necessary.
He is not a ghost of a tale of ancient stories you waving a fable that ennobles the soul.
He involves the creation and works powerfully for now, while you think you read any other religious text , addressing your soul like a pirate.
He embracing your life as a passionate and tremendous voice.
He loves you, bone without identity, and declares that the war belongs to him and that he is the master and before he gives the last word there is no last word.
Do not scream bone, that which belongs to the valley that do not care and it's too late.
Listen him, bone.
Feel him, bone.
Let him do his work and recreate your life, renew your life and make you burn in your soul the will to win and and to stood with a spiritual authority that you never has tasted before.
Hear bone.
And you will see the nerves growing, to back your muscles, which did not exist and had transformed into gray, back to you.
And see the blood spilled flocking back. And again hear the heart beating full of hope and joy.
It is time to believe, bone.
And to be embraced by heavenly powers and run.
Because the rain puddles has await your feet .
Welington Corporation
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