‘Generation after generation stands in awe of your work; each one tells stories of your mighty acts.’ (Psalm 145:4 MSG)
In my dream, I felt the cool, thin skin of her old bony hands steady my ankles then pat the calf of my leg in encouragement. I looked down at her and realized I was standing on the stooped shoulders of an ancient one. I was startled, then panicked trying to get away from her while telling her I must hold her up. Her mouth did not move, yet she looked into me and slowly spoke, “no, no, Annnngelllaaah, this is the way it is supposed to be.”
Beneath her, I saw movement of a transparent skinned hand patting the calf of her leg as the other hand secured her. I realized my anchor was standing on the shoulders of another, with vein-trailed hands bracing her like steel, and that as deep as I could see, a white-haired ancient one was the platform for yet the next, and the next, and the next.
I believe them. Telling the story of our Savior gains strength and draws power from a towering column of those who had boldness to share Truth with you and me. The Ancient of Days has come to us through those dressed in robes, or rags, or the nakedness of their time …. and who chose to be filled to the overflow with His glory. He is still bursting through the ages with as much force as we allow Him to blast up through our cells and share with those He sends across our trail.
Feel God’s force bursting through you.