Weekly Digest. Vol.7 by Omotayo Oni

Raise us O Lord!

I woke up on a Sunday morning, not wanting to leave my bed, unmotivated and wearied. Seems my heart had already preempted what the Sunday routine will look like, “oh not again!” do I have any fair choice to myself, the alternatives around the neighborhood are some bunch of soulish church of clueless and excited faith-based worshipers, that gives nothing but the gospel of lawless grace, of course, I can get myself entertained and motivated and return home with my hungry soul or perhaps I should just turn on the TV and get the same bumper value to elate and excite my emotions at the expense of my fainting soul. “Would any church host the Lordship of my Jesus today?” my thirsty soul queried.

Obviously, something is wrong with us all! Our stereotyped schedule of services wouldn’t give way to the Holy Spirit. Where will Jesus find expression this Sunday morning? (There I would go). But my generation is contented with the affairs of life without God, they safely trust builders who had rejected the Corner Stone, We are excited with fallible foundations and gratifies every little compromise that frustrate the scheme of redemption; giving way to little foxes that devour the vine. Why has the wound of the Church failed to heal, Where really is the balm in Gilead?

Raise us a generation of men that seek you O God of Jacob! In a time when the Mantle's of our fathers had become mere fabrics and our Cathedrals a monument. The wailing of the saints and the cravings of my souls is to behold again the beauty of Zion, the Vista of your glory and the grandeur of your Holiness. I long to come through the aisle of celestial sensation amid your luminous angels to the wonders of your presence and the finery of your majesty to taste of heavenly enthrallments and the glamour of things to come.

What is left to our generation is the shadow of the things that use to be, the ruins of the temple that once host the glorious presence of the Shekinah; Chunks and fragments of Stones not left upon the other.

The beauty of Israel (Church) is slain on her high places, the excellences of Jacob is given to reproach. The shield of the mighty is fallen and the bearers rooted as though they were never planted. The treasures of Zion are looted, golden vessels traded for vessels of brass. Fathers failed to rise and the sons found satisfaction in a system that keeps building up against the God of the universe.

Give us revival O Lord! We are tired of the routine, the baton of the Gospel is handed to us by weak runners. Many fathers of faith have forsaken the precepts, sadly, many of the suppose sons are clueless of the wherewithal to seek the Lord.

Too many noise and distractions have left an empty echo, our churches have turned a graveyard where the slain of promising light lies extinct. The Lamp-stand had been traded away for coins of gold, Urim and Thummim shortchanged for false divinations, sacred commissions had become but an administrative routine.

Altars are bored with ashes of past flames; testimonies of yesteryears. There is no sustainable fire on the altar but strange ones Kindled by strange children. Gatekeepers charged to secure the fold of God has slept upon their call, only to usher in the forces of darkness by their slumbering spirit.

Who will go for us and bridge the gap, who will make up the hedges and present the counsel of God to the tables of men? Who shall approach to the hill of the Lord, who shall come before the everlasting burnings; to the Company of the Seraphs that surrounds the aura of His Holiness?

Many who cried out “God send me” are naive and gullible, seeking earthly wisdom to carry the weight of the mystery of the Cross and earthly pleasures to mitigate the offenses of the Cross. They left the Holy Spirit to seek mentorship with the old prophets to become prey to strange teachings and false guidance that will feed them to Satan; the devouring beast. Raise us O Lord, Watchmen for our generation! Save us from the distractions of our souls.

We thirst, Lord, we thirst! Raise us men that will break into the camp of the Philistines to bring us waters from the well of Bethlehem.

Omotayo Oni