“Breathe on me, Breath of God,
fill me with life anew,
that I may love the way you love,
and do what you would do.”

Edwin Hatch, “Breathe on me, Breath of God,” 1878

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I prophesied just as I was commanded. There was a great noise as I was prophesying, then a great quaking, and the bones came together, bone by bone. When I looked, suddenly there were sinews on them. The flesh appeared, and then they were covered over with skin. But there was still no breath in them.

He said to me, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, human one! Say to the breath, The Lord God proclaims: Come from the four winds, breath! Breathe into these dead bodies and let them live.”

I prophesied just as he commanded me. When the breath entered them, they came to life and stood on their feet, an extraordinarily large company.

Ezekiel 37:7-10

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In yesterday’s devotion, I wrote about my brother’s lacrosse game, where a member of the opposing team called my brother’s coach a racial slur. My brother remembered what he had learned in church: God calls us to speak up — to be prophetic. He decided he needed to respond.

My brother told his coach what was said, and my brother’s entire team decided to forfeit the game. They left early. Together the team decided to take a stand for love and justice. They refused to play in the face of hatred.

In a way, this team was doing as Ezekiel did in the valley of dry bones. Ezekiel begins to prophesy to the bones and he calls upon God’s breath to bring life into these dead bones. New life enters the bones and they stand up. They take on a new, living form.

The team’s act of forfeiting the game was like calling on God’s holy breath to breathe hope where there was hate.

Katie Cashwell

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Holy God, I breathe in your voice, and I breathe out your voice to others. Be with me this day. Amen.

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“Spirit, spirit of gentleness,
Blow through the wilderness, calling and free.
Spirit, spirit of restlessness,
Stir me from placidness, Wind, wind on the sea.”

James K. Manley, "Spirit,” 1978

Katie Cashwell

Rev. Katie Cashwell, Director of Programs at the Montreat Conference Center, lives in the mountains of North Carolina. She hopes to receive yoga teacher certification one day, enjoys hiking with her husband Sean, and cherishes breaking bread around tables with friends.

Holy, Holy, Holy

Clay Mottley:

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