“Start a mission yes. But. First I love you.,” speaks Holy Spirit inner still voice to me.
At the sunsetting.
In the sky.
An anvil shape.
I find a poem.
On the net.
As God’s Word.
In God’s Word.
Nations encouraging each other at their work.
“The metalworker encourages the goldsmith,
and the one who smooths with the hammer
spurs on the one who strikes the anvil.
One says of the welding, “It is good.”
The other nails down the idol so it will not topple.”
The morning of the next day.
In the sky.
There’s anvils everywhere.
Men at their anvils beating out their precious idols.
God’s ginormous cloud of presence is beginning to press down upon all the anvils of men.
God is revealing Himself to the nations.
He’s ‘bearing down’ on the anvils of men.
That’s the expression you use when you are giving birth ha ha!
The Anvil of God’s Word
“Last eve I paused beside the blacksmith’s door,
And heard the anvil ring the vesper chime;
Then looking in, I saw upon the floor,
Old hammers, worn with beating years of time.
“‘How many anvils have you had,’ said I,
‘To wear and batter all these hammers so?’
‘Just one,’ said he, and then with twinkling eye,
‘The anvil wears the hammers out, you know.’
“And so, I thought, the Anvil of God’s Word
For ages skeptic blows have beat upon;
Yet, though the noise of falling blows was heard,
The Anvil is unharmed, the hammers gone.”
—Attributed to John Clifford