The valley was festooned with armor, weapons and chariots.
The bones of fallen warriors were littered everywhere, half buried in the sand.
There were vary many. And they were very dry.
Not only had the bodies been severed in battle, but since that fateful day the wolves, the lions, the bears, and the buzzards had continued the work. It was as though there had been some divine mandate to make sure every bone was as far removed from its natural partner as possible.
Why had God translated the prophet, by supernatural means, to this valley, to walk about this sad scene of a long forgotten battle?
Just as the seer, Ezekiel, inhaled to manifest the question of his heart, he heard the quiet, low distant rumble of God’s voice ask a question of His own.
“Can these bones live?”
The prophet’s mind began to work the question like a camel works the cud-
No… of course not… I mean… with God all things are possible but not by any natural means…
“O sovereign Lord, you alone know.”
And the voice of God came again, saying “Prophecy to the dry bones for me. Tell them, that I will reconstruct them. Tell them I will breath on them, and that they will live again.”
So the seer did as he was instructed. While he yet prophesied the words God had instructed him, there began a rumbling. Pebbles began to roll from their place. Then stones. Then boulders. They churning sky began to crack with thunder and snap in flashes of lightning and with the potency of power that came from the prophet uniting his will with God’s will and speaking that will into existence.
Dry bones, that hardly resembled their original form from the hacking and gnawing, at first began resuming their original form, and then proceeded to slide across the valley floor to connect again with their original partner, like blind lovers groping in dark room to unite with one another.
The aura of power continued to crescendo in lightnings and earthquakes after the skeletons were reassembled. Next, the dust and earth around the bones began to lose its form, like iron when it is smelted. It then poured upward over the bones, forming cartilage, then organs, then muscles and tendons, and then, lastly, skin poured up over the bodies from the dust of the earth, enveloping the corpses.
And then… silence.
There they lay- massive, muscled, warriors- naked of garments other than their metal armaments. Lifeless. And the earth and sky were still.
After a few moments, the seer began to fear he had not done something right. But again, before he could form the question in his mouth, God answered,
“Now prophecy to the four winds and speak what I tell you to speak to them”
Springing from the confidence of the previous prophecy, the prophet boldly spoke as God instructed.
“Breath! Spirit! Four winds of God, Blow through this valley, breath the spirit of life back into these ancient warriors, so that they may live again!”
Slowly and gently, at first, the sky began to churn over the valley, like the beginnings of a tornado.
North, South, east, And West. The four spirits swirled together in the churning heavens and then- at last spiraled down into the valley and rushed over each of the valiant fallen. Pouring into their mouths and nostrils until their chests began to heave with life.