Jubilee – Wendel Lux

October 25, 2025

The rocks have grown limbs here. They’re proudly dancing, singing out Jehovah Jireh. The rocks and trees are shouting hallelujah to the skies above. Who else do we see around?

2000 miles away, old animal skeletons (fossils maybe) are shaking and crackling and rattling away, like a silly symphony. The resurrection plants are sprouting faces now too! Crooning along to the tunes of them dry, dry bones.

The days stretched on as the fallout grew… nothing remained, only everything that was before. Elements turned into rubble and debris and that too began to praise. From dust that was, they formed themselves and said, “hear us, YHWH!”

The universities were first to go, but they had the loudest voices. The trumpets and the cornets and harps flung themselves out with tendrils made of melted brass and formed to play the sound of His glory.

When the mushrooms were brought down and lit the skies with a golden halo, and the world stopped and the deserts were left and let alone; there was only some things that arose in the darkness that settled for some time. Clouds of grey and brown and white and yellow, all around and blinding. His love was suffocating but it was all-encompassing.

How the hills began to shake and rumble and creak and roar and crack and blister—they were all there to offer the ever-needed praise.

Then came the rain, that washed away all that was good, with a smile and finger to the sky; a bitter poison that wastes away at eroded earth.

And the world never stopped praising… and they sang and sang, until they noticed… noticed nothing but silence rang out. Where was their jealous bride?

The earth stood still—the clouds went away—the sun grew and grew and grew… until—