Christ’s body is raised – His truth is real.
Some might lobby to say it’s the new deal.
Jeshurun Israel’s the real deal Holyfield upon heaven and earth.
So go on, sell whatever has worth to purchase the field.
Be well with your soul ‘til its surface is filled…
Don’t let the devil usurp what you feel – elevate Its worth.
Levitate the Body’s worth
Like leaven laid next to a scalding hearth.
For heaven’s sake, you let It stay in a motley hearse
when you rehearse your ailments!
Christ’s Body overcame the death and pains of hell’s lesser claims .
So, don’t let It be regulated by lesser faith…
Christ’s crucifixion raised the blessed stakes –
in other words, the LORD nailed it!
Though it was close to 2,ooo years ago,
This is no cold case entombed and piled in years of snow –
Never has a death sentence been so clearly told to flip death’s
tolls into living levies.
His Body rehydrated without decay and rot
In such a way that even the Iceman cameth to see His famous plot…
Reborn by the way His name has wrought dry ice lands into living levees.
That’s Living Water bequeathed, people!
And we’re the living borders beneath steeples
That ought to reorder and re-lease the sequel of His second coming!
We’re called to bring about the restitution of all things,
By pile driving tombstones which destitution all but brings…
Wrestling institutions of undertakers and pallbearers appalling –
who keep us second-guessing His substance.
Like it or not, we’re in a Royal Rumble against sickness, people!
We’re a priesthood of kings –
royal and humble to foil and tumble affliction and evil!
Compared to Christ’s Body, such symptoms are unequal –
ever since It lifted out of the ground!
So stop letting what embodies evil body the believable –
What was once impossible is now possible and redeemable!…
Jesus injected Himself into lethal infections like a needle
that’s been sifted and found!
How?!! By burning down the hay stacks of scarlet fever
To discern and disavow harm into a harmless deceiver.
Yet it’s alarming how present day believers still make afflictions
something to sneeze at.
Rather, we’ve made more allowances for accepted allergies
Evading waged wars with deathless maladies….
As we’re casually employed as reckless casualties of sin’s salary –
becoming listless to death’s wish list whistling witless quips
buzzing in ears like bees’ wax.
And instead of something to veer from when it nears,
Whispering ‘Healing’s none of your beeswax!’ in our ears –
We’ve drawn nearer and dearer to such sneers like when frenemies greet.
So though we’re Christ’s tendons in His feet and hands,
Our tendency tends to defeat what His feats advanced…
Retreating in the sands instead of drawing a line where life’s enemies meet.
But as long as the body of Christ continues to heal,
The body of Christ continues to heal!
His sinew instills tributes that still atrophy and rigor mortis.
This builds immunity to all of sickness’ threats
Which advance the stiffness of death
Leaving afflictions smitten and stricken with the quickened depth of His vigor which thwarts it.
So stop being ready to die like Biggie in his prime!
YOUR death is NOT the perfect healer in the great by and by.
Christ died and did rise as the healing Prefect Who
perfected our Achilles’ heel:
Our inability to build and yield.
Our inability to heal with zeal…
Our inability to kneel to His seal which says, ‘Achilles, HEAL!’
This ability is REAL!
What He residually revealed
Is that His bruised heel literally wields a mighty weapon.
A mighty weapon to crush the enemy’s head.
A mighty weapon to give us a one-up with a strengthening leg…
A leg up over the empty pegs of an enemy led to be
footstools with tiny affection.
But despite such a mighty toppling,
His heel is healing neither timely nor properly.
There are still holes holding tiny monopolies in His hands, feet and side.
So even though He crushed the head of the serpent’s brood,
We keep brutishly brooding over the surface wound…
Usurping the tool perfectly fueled by the mastery He primed.
Yet… as the body of Christ continues to heal,
The body of Christ continues to heal!
His body and mind continue to build in those with outstretched hands.
Just as the man’s withered hand recovered in action,
Whether hither or thither, signs and wonders must extend to the masses…
They mustn’t be smothered by inaction –
the clout of such routs vexes His plan.
Is there any wonder then, why healing has eluded our grasp?:
His Body’s still reeling – alluding to a past
When It was bruised and stabbed – with every rib fully accounted.
We’ve gone and married ourselves to this scene’s usage.
Like Adam and Eve, we cleave to it…
Swapping meekness and keys for weakness, we swing like nooses too glib to fully announce this:
JESUS is RISEN! Heal the sick! Raise the dead!
The REASON’S PROLIFIC! He’s exempt! Sin’s wages were swept!
The SEASON’S SPECIFIC! Lay hands – the sick must recover what’s been collectively taxed.
Stop laying hands as strange and lame as
Kelly Ripa… you know, with a ‘Strahan’ (stray hand)…
Such untrained hands chain and strand what Christ majestically unlatched.
Like Communion taken unworthily,
Laying underhanded understanding earns us an early sleep.
Undeservedly, we’re reemerged in dirt beneath the sick feats of maimed hands.
With no ‘hands’ receivers and a hellish secondary set to blast us,
When interceders send prayers up like feckless Hail Mary passes…
We’re left in the dust concussed by such intercepting facets –
six feet deep in a strange land.
Meanwhile, we run around like
chicken George in a rigged race with his head cut off.
Like Kunta, Kente cloths have our hands tied behind
our backs with one leg cut off.
This leg of the race wasn’t meant to be cut off at the pass, y’all –
WE ARE THE COMPLETE BODY OF CHRIST!
HE is Head of the headless – endorse It!
HE gave us a leg up like a horsemen!…
Hold your head up – though He won’t force your hand, His force is at hand –
you’ve got forceps to pick off a dominant vice!
Like a clinic that’s free from bills,
The body of Christ is intrinsically free to heal.
Epidemics should flee as It builds prophetic momentum.
But as long as we don’t contribute by laying hands,
Healing will continue to fall through laymen’s hands…
Which delays the disbanding of strands with toxic symptoms.
Rather, if we’re Christ’s soles, feet and hands – holy and real,
But the holes still haven’t wholly healed,
Those who we attempt to feel and fill with zeal will spill the Spirit’s graceful aid.
Such hands when worked down to the bone spurs
Are as dry as Ezekiel’s vision of dead soldiers…
As His phalanx, when we’re failing as close-fisted holsters, it’s a slap in the face of faith!
Yet and still… as the body of Christ continues to heal,
The body of Christ continues to heal!
As we embody the Christ, we continue to fill His holes with holiness.
So, as we release what’s in His hand without withholding relief,
By no longer holding our peace…
We boldly mold a low relief – sculpting Our Father’s “art in heaven” into global localness.
*RGL*
‘Now ye are the body of Christ, and members in particular.’
1 Corinthians 12:27
MANU FORTI MINISTRIES, LLC
“Speaking LIFE to unlock the POWER of GOD within YOU” ™
