Do You Have The Stuff? | Spoken Word, by Debbie Gurley

 

Do you have the stuff?

The keys to the freedom of the tormented

Shackles shattered as dreams begin to drift near again

Do you have the stuff?

The oil and wine for the broken and broken-hearted

A deep and angry wound made calm by the balm of Gilead

Do you have the stuff?

To remove the scales from their eyes as they stumble in the dark

The lies that trapped and entangled swallowed up by His blinding light

Do you have the stuff?

To stop the cries of the diseased and afflicted

To remove the gates of hell from the bodies of those inflicted

Do you have the stuff?

To bring a pulse where death’s doors have been entered

To steal back from the grave kingdom matters left unfinished

Do you have the stuff?

To snatch souls from the enemy’s grasp

To escort them graciously into their Papa’s hands

Do you have the stuff?

Without Him, nothing could be made.  By Him and through Him ALL things were spoken into existence.

The dark blanket of countless diamonds stretched across the night sky

Each representing light emitted from stars long ago hung carefully and each known by its name

The universe, boundaries unknown, filled with mystery and wonder, mostly unexplored, carefully laid out by the Great Architect

Our own personal habitat, the big blue marble, a missile hurtling through space at 67,000 mi/hr, carefully laid on a track, a perfect playground: majestic mountains, deep canyons, vast oceans, wide plains, arid deserts, tropical rainforests, endless tundra; animal species galore from the minuscule bacterium to the leviathan of the deep, the calling out of their distinctive attributes being granted to us

The One who set the foundations of the earth, the One who created time and called it good, the One who unleashed the floodgates of the deep, the One who created the storehouses of heavenly waters, the One who guides the footsteps of thunder and lightning, the One who draws the birds to the south in winter, the One who causes the stars to sing out together.

The beauty and wonder of the human body, each beginning with one single cell, invisible to the naked eye, yet containing the genetic blueprint to determine every detail from height to eye color and shoe size; what told this cell to become a bone cell; that cell to become a skin cell; that cell to become a liver cell, and when?  Their internal complexities recently brought to light, shouting from the rooftops their argument against evolution, with their molecular structures forming complex levers, ratchets, and pulley systems that carry out the necessary functions to support life.

Yet with all His Power, Grace, and Beauty, the Eternal One’s attention is forever captured by His pinnacle creation.  The Omnipotent One who rides on the whisper of the wind, who knows when each sparrow falls to the ground, has the names of each one carefully tattooed into the palm of His hand.  His gaze carefully follows each of their rising and falling, coming and going, victory and defeat.  His tender mercies know their most intimate thoughts, the deepest recesses of each heart, down to the smallest detail, the very hairs on their head.  The Mighty Lion, with His incredible kindness relentlessly pursues and draws them to Himself.  Is He safe?  No . . . but He’s good.

The Master Architect, the Infinite One, the Eternal Creator did the unthinkable . . . the incomprehensible . . . the impossible.  The Limitless One became the limited . . . the Infinite One became the finite . . . the Eternal One constrained by time.  Like returning an atomic explosion back to its previous form, the genie back to his bottle, unmeasured Power and Energy became finite particulate matter . . . the invisible became visible . . . the Word became flesh, dwelling among us, bringing His kingdom to ours . . . bringing the stuff.

A new creation never before seen, carrying Papa’s unlimited power, His heart, His mind.  His divine Spirit making holy covenant with ours, clothing Himself with our flesh, calling us His most holy home.  Creation ceases its groaning, the rocks fail to cry out, for the sons and daughters have appeared, reigning over the earth, simultaneously seated beside their Papa in His kingdom and extending tent pegs farther and farther into the kingdom of darkness, liberating a world steeped in suffering and death.

YOU HAVE THE STUFF

The keys to the freedom of the tormented

Shackles shattered as dreams begin to drift near again

YOU HAVE THE STUFF

The oil and wine for the broken and broken-hearted

A deep and angry wound made calm by the balm of Gilead

YOU HAVE THE STUFF

To remove the scales from their eyes as they stumble in the dark

The lies that trapped and entangled swallowed up by His blinding light

YOU HAVE THE STUFF

To stop the cries of the diseased and afflicted

To remove the gates of hell from the bodies of those inflicted

YOU HAVE THE STUFF

To bring a pulse where death’s doors have been entered

To steal back from the grave kingdom matters left unfinished

YOU HAVE THE STUFF

To snatch souls from the enemy’s grasp

To escort them graciously into their Papa’s hands

YOU HAVE THE STUFF.

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