I watched a speaker in the last month fire off about prophesy.
I think it went a little like this,
“People want to be prophets…Oh yeah well read Isaiah and Jeremiah and get back to me….No really!?
People want to be prophets…Oh yeah because they want all the attention … So read Isaiah and Jeremiah and see if you want to become a prophet! Ha!”
I nodded along for a bit… and then … wait what?
Who got to choose this?
Who , other than some false prophets, woke up one morning and decided to be a prophet?
The road of coming to that thing called “prophet” is a lonely road where you stumble about trying to figure out how and why you know things others don’t… all the while only getting slammed if you get one thing wrong, and then sometimes getting equally slammed when you were right. Then when you finally get some legs under you…there is the realization that you may not want to know these things… and many sort of self destruct trying to be like everyone else. Then if you are lucky to be mentored or get your hands on a book or piece it together with Him…. you live a life of seeing the trains coming down the track in peoples lives and wanting to save everyone from their self…until you realize you can’t…and you can just pray.
And who but the 1% of 1% are getting “attention” for it? A few of them I know, and many scurry country from country with a mix of fear and Strength… all compelled by a Creator and not for “attention”…which could get them killed.
Most of the prophet’s work (and I am using a wide umbrella there) is done one on one. You go to people and talk right to them. But more often than not you are left with prayer, alone with you and your God. If you are really lucky you get another prophet to confirm or deny what you are Hearing… and you can pass each other notes to pray about. That is like “prophet gold”… again very little “attention ” in that.
That prophets do what they do out of a choice “to get attention” would be like saying to a pastor that they became a pastor to get the attention of Sunday morning. We all know that behind the scenes (good) pastors are spending time with God trying to hear and all the other time in hospital rooms and broken marriages and at weddings and all the while trying to find time to devote to their family. To say something like that about pastors would be ignorant and disrespectful…and stupid.
I thought it was an incredibly silencing comment. As many places in the Word that He encourages prophets to seek out their gift, I imagine there were many prophets in that room who heard it. Probably many of the people with prophetic giftings don’t even know they have it because most churches don’t have much set up for that gifting. Worship members have practice and well, you can play an instrument or sing …or not, so that is that. Teachers are considered pretty harmless and helpful and thus encouraged…we have Sunday School and Discipleship classes for them. But the prophets are left to figure it out for themselves… and if they speak out of turn… it’s shut down.
Worshipers are allowed to play bad sets or have off weeks after already having the opportunity to practice with other musicians…
Teachers could get it wrong and they get to teach next week…
A pastor can stumble over his sermon and generally is right back up front next week…
but a prophet…. ( oh bully ask me how I know)
and I don’t mean to criticize that one speaker I watched… besides I could have the quote off and I don’t know what he intended with that comment… but it doesn’t change the fact that I believe this mindset may be a pretty common misconception. I also believe this misconception is prevalent enough that many who believe they have prophetic abilities sit quietly and choose to ignore their gift because the church does not encourage it….and in fact often thinks it a clanging bell. Or worse does things to discourage it.
In my lifetime I have had the great honor to walk with the great prophets of our time as you have seen here at Aseedinspired… I have had the opportunity to be validated and encouraged by the best in the world… that helps….so when I hear speakers go on about how prophets do it for the attention… I can just listen and not be offended or insulted…. because those type of speakers don’t get it. They don’t get how the only attention the prophet wants … the only attention a prophet craves is His.
Ok… its a rabbit herding sheep in Sweden.
That one fact is amazing and intriguing. If I could have a rabbit that would do something other than poop and shed I would be thrilled. That little bunny is cutting and weaving… and I noticed a ram in the mix ,which could cause plenty of hassle… but not for ole Bugs. However… take a close listen to the Flanagan and Allen lyrics that are dubbed over , what I can only imagine, is a bunch of Ikea furniture name sounding Swedish words. Those lyrics… that catchy jingle… I am hooked! Everyone in the house has been humming that snazzy tune! The baby is absolutely addicted to the video. There is nothing not to like about this….except that it isn’t my rabbit herding my sheep!
and for those reading in email here is a direct link
and you are welcome.
We do not need the fires crackling just yet. At least not in the house… s’mores round the campfire is an entirely different matter. But the windy days, the ram in the back pasture with all of his ewes, the leaves starting to loose their green , all points to colder mornings in our near future. So we gave all our fireplaces, and we have many, an inspection. I dug out all but a bit of ash , vacuumed the inside walls and looked for anything amiss. With firewood ordered we brought as much of last year’s wood into the house. Isn’t it always the way… you start to clean one thing and it leads to another and another. Book baskets are put together and quilts laid over nearby chairs. I do love how our children become easier and easier to find as we light the fires. Summer takes them all over the countryside… but the heat of a wood stove draws out the chess boards and well loved books. They all crouch around like resting rabbits reading different sections aloud that intrigue them. Every so often they argue about which move is “cheating” in the current chess game. The simmering pots are all washed out and sitting on top just waiting for orange peels and cinnamon sticks.
It will all be very cozy.
I am very happy with any warm weather lasting as long as it wants. I am in no rush, this year, to be in cold weather.
On another note….
Isn’t it crazy how this time of year everyone comes out with their “end of days” prophesies?! My entire life it seemed that autumn marked the start of everyone ,”in the know” claiming the sky is falling. I can’t even count how many times, growing up , the world was going to end. I just heard yesterday a very well known prophet talk about his most recent dream and of course it was of a dire circumstance. I feel like , at this point, they should start putting two and two together and realize that maybe… just maybe they have a God given instinct to harvest, to collect, to store, to hunker down, to stock up , to prepare for shorter days ahead. A God given instinct… like, since the beginning of time. And that instinct doesn’t necessarily mean the world is ending. Sure, the end of world will happen at some point or even next month… but what are you going to do about it? Your 4 cords of firewood and 2 cases of bottled water aren’t going to get you through it. That being said… I think we should all be preparing for the next season. Because it may not (or may) be ISIS… but it very well could be an ice storm and being prepared well in advance will bring you a lot of peace.
And Peace is good.
Well, with all the weddings celebrated and our legs wonderfully sore from dancing many nights…. it seems only fitting to begin breeding. Some get started in September. I decided that I want the babies arriving in March and milking to begin in May. Maybe next year I will get more professional and have lambs in early February… maybe.
The first time I walked Ludo the ram out to meet the girls… he was nothing but the gentleman he always is. Two hours later I went out into the pasture to check on things… and that ended with me laughing and yelling for the kids to get Dad. Ole Ludo was drunk on his hormones and kept back up to headbutt me! He would stop short of me… but that didn’t stop me from calling for reinforcements! Once the husBen was nearby Ludo went back to standing by my side and nuzzling my hand to get his ears scratched. It was all quite a sight! My husBen with a children’s lawn chair to push Ludo back and me laughing my head off and all the kids lining the outside of the fence wondering what the heck their parents were doing. We had to back out of the pasture because if we turned around Ludo would back up 5 paces to lunge towards us. He’s a good boy that ram…he’s just drunk. In those two hours his skin has already gone pink from hormones and his nose is gleaming pink. Now I know why no one wanted Rudolph to join in their reindeer games… Rudolph was a hormonal mess and maybe a bit humpy. Those other reindeers were just trying to play peacefully and they were not trying have any of those shenanigans. Makes sense to me now that I have seen Ludo’s nose.
With a belly full of wedding cake and her flower girl braids falling out in a blonde halo she pipped up from the darkness of the back seat as we drove home,
“Momma? Now that they are married…what happens if A.J. wants purple curtains and Hannah wants white curtains? What do they do then?”
How do you explain to a questioning four year old little girl and that preteen girl in the front seat…
The question on who is in charge … of the curtains.
Do you lose your identity…. where the curtains are concerned.
Will you have to forever submit … your love of white draperies.
Is he in charge even when his choices clash with everything else…
Will your upholstery giftings be second rate to his attempts?
Can you excel at your window decorations….even surpass him…or will he feel less of a man.
when the curtains close… who are you?
“maybe whoever is the best at it…they could pick it out… and other times they could just get both… Then they can have it all.”
I held my breath all day. Today was the day we were preparing for all these months. You never know with kids in a wedding.
But early that morning He told me… “I have already gone before you… and I will be by your side and in front of you like a lion, all day.” But still…a part of me held my breath… ya know, for the children.
In the flurry and fury of little white flower girl dresses and the snap of ring bearer suspenders I focused. I laquered each child with enough hairspray to last the week let alone the night. The girls squealed when I opened the mascara. I didn’t stop them. I didn’t quiet their excitement.
Feel how He takes you to great places.
Feel how He prepares a Way.
Feel how He quiets your fears and lets your soul soar with Joy.
It’s for you.
Don’t sedate it.
Feel the steady beat of His foot steps beside you.
We piled in the car… and before I let them out of my sight and into the care of aunt… I took a picture.
My eyes filled up….
“Lord what did I ever do?… How great You are… that You would give me these humans to travel through life with. These amazing talented people who love me. That You would make these babies in me or bring them to me? Oh You are so good.”
and in a chorus of ,”momma I love you”s and with the smell of hair gel and fruity lip gloss they were gone.
When we saw each other again,it was as they walked down the aisle in a swirl of rose petals… and my heart beamed to break through my chest. These girls! These boys!
and then… we danced the night away.
and I mean we danced.
Please forgive my absence… we are deep in preparation for TWO weddings!
The kids and I are either performing or participating in each one so you can just imagine all that may go into a family of ten being in two completely different weddings.
Did I mention both weddings are back to back!…and in a week!
Every free moment my children have been running across field and stream to help set up for one of the weddings which will be held on the family farm.
Pumpkins to pick and flower beds to mulch. Songs to rehearse and pastures to be mowed.
All of which somedays leaves me with this little baby here as my only farm help.