Israel, My Israel, you say you believe in Me, but you live as though I didn’t exist. You praise Me with your mouth, yet, indeed, your heart is far from Me. You seek your survival from the world you can see, and faith is something you have buried in “religion.”
     Israel, My Israel, did you know that it is My Breath that keeps you alive? You refuse to eat My words, and in this famine you are dying. Israel, Oh My Israel, your candle is dimming. The world you love cannot save you. Hear, Oh, Israel, the time for harvest is nearing. My field is sown with nettles and you are found clinging to the thorns. Oh My Israel, you are pierced with labor. Your blood spills into the earth never to live again. My blood has been spilled for you bringing new life to all who can hear. Israel, My Israel, can you hear?
     You are like an arm of My body that has long been asleep. Israel, if I shake you, will you then awake?

Copyright 2008 by H.D. Shively

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