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The Vision?
by Pete Greig

See Animated Presentation of "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 passport. People write their addresses in pencil and wonder at their
strange existence. They are free yet they are slaves of the hurting and
dirty and dying.

What is 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 leaps,
their Satan games.

This is an army that will lay down its life for the cause. A million times
a day its soldiers choose to loose that they might one day win the
great 'Well done' of faithful sons and daughters. Such heroes are as
radical on 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.

The 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 on the inside.
On the outside? They hardly care. They wear clothes like
costumes to communicate and celebrate but never to hide.

Would they surrender their image or their 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 all depends on God and live as if it all depends
on them.

Their DNA chooses J-E-S-U-S. (He breathes out, they breathe in.)
Their subconscious sings. They had a blood transfusion with Jesus.
Their words make demons scream in shopping centers. Don't you
hear them coming? Herald the weirdo's! 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. Their 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.
And my feeble, whispered, faithless prayer invokes a thunderous,
resounding, bone-shaking great 'Amen!' from countless angels,
from hero's of the faith, from Christ himself. And He is the original
dreamer, the ultimate winner.

And that, my friends, is guaranteed.
Guaranteed!

Used by Permission of www.24-7prayer.com