My Beloved, we are dry, dusty bones. How much life are we living without Jesus? Back in the days, strapped w/ a .357 magnum, high as a mink coat, drinking like a fish, & running the streets; I was looking for a grave to die in, yeah I wasn’t asking for it, but I was acting like it. You don’t have to be this mean, but you do have this in you. My dry bones are on you & yours are on mine, scattered & exposed for the entire world to see. Continue reading