Disunity.
It’s a funny thing.
It sneaks into the shabbily painted concrete walls of Namatama house.
It pretends it belongs and whispers to us in the African rain,
Convinces us it belongs,
Comes up in our dreams,
Raises the hair on our necks,
Causes a facade to make us think all is fine when everything is not.
It’s a lie he tells us.
Because it lessens our power.
Together we have the strength of Heaven’s hosts,
But alone…
Unity.
It’s a funny thing.
It boldly walks into our presence and calls us to arms.
Tells us to look it straight in the eyes and own up and except it,
Make it real in us,
To join forces.
It’s what binds us when hell stands at our gates.
It’s what grabs on tighter to the hand that wants to pull away.
It blends our voices together into a song that moves Heaven to action.
It’s how we move moutains.
Together .
This is how we fight our battles now.
Side by side,
Burning together,
And the name of Jesus rolling off our lips.
