“The veins of My church have been in use for the centuries of man,
have sometimes shrunk and shrivelled,
have sometimes burst forth into blossom with the promise of the harvest,
have oft-times fed and watered with very little movement.
The veins of My church should stand out and expand,
should be very easily followed to the heart,
should feed all from the outskirts into the centre of activity.
The veins of My church should sometimes split and concentrate,
should create a well for the birthing of the future stars,
should dip in for the nourishment without the fear of starving.
The veins of My church are long reaching with the pathways clearly marked,
gather in the clusters,
reach up to the heavens,
The veins of My church can be hidden out of sight,
can be enlarged from the workload of the day,
can be bypassed for another,
can feel the pain of substitution which does not acknowledge love.
The veins of My church can feel the touch of frost which withers the tender tips,
which leaves them unattached,
which knows the sounds of discord growing louder as they feed.
The veins of My church breath and navigate,
circulate and articulate,
pulse and vibrate with the life within.
The veins of My church are nourished by the new additions to the streams,
the immersions in the streams,
the supping from the streams,
the blessings and the nourishment carried by the streams –
the streams destined to enhance the river as the artery of new life spreading across the homelands of the saints.
The arteries of God carry good news to distant shores,
to distant homes,
to distant lives.
The arteries of God are replenished and renewed,
are refreshed and refurbished,
are resplendent and responsive:
as they penetrate the areas where faith is at a premium,
as they relax and recuperate where faith is quite at home.
The arteries of God reveal afresh the activities of God,
turn up the heat for souls and spirits slumbering to keep warm,
bring comfort with encouragement to where duress has laid its head,
call the labourers to hasten with the crop before the storms arrive;
select the servants for the messaging of God,
oversee the saints in their maturity as they protect the visions which are known:
to drive the arteries with direction into their destinations.
So the dreams of man become the reality of God.
So the faceprint lying in the dirt becomes the visage known to angels.
So the testing of a heart of shame becomes the mindset of the valiant of endeavour.
So the least of man becomes the elect of God.”