By the time you read this, I will be on a plane to Thailand. I'll be there for 2 weeks and in Japan for 2 weeks. You may notice a lack of posts in that time, but I'll make up for it after that, for sure!
Part 3: Prophesy
Tom pulled back his arm and threw hard. The little disc flew straight toward his target. But then it slowed and seemed to come to a complete standstill before veering a sharp left and off into some bushes. Tom sighed. His game was terribly off. The sport, of course, was disc golf, and old favorite of his. He’d spent his first few college years coming in last of his friends, but he made a commitment to come out at least four times a week, and his skills were improving.
Except for today. The day started when a friend from Revival Fellowship cancelled on him (not the voice of God, just school work). He was distracted through the whole game, and now he was six over par on the ninth and final hole. As he tromped towards the big, prickly bush which had eaten his disc, the same thoughts echoed in his mind. He found it funny how sometimes, when you’re alone, the same sentence or two echoes over and over again for hours. This whole game, since he had no one to talk to, two sentences kept circling in his mind, complete with the images of those who spoke them.
“When you prophesy over someone, you’re trying to answer the question, ‘God, how do you love this person, today?’ Answer that, and you’re prophesying.”
“But it bugs me to put prophesy in a box of little words, given on demand, when God’s got to be speaking bigger things to people – if He’s really speaking.”
After a few more bad throws, he finished seven over par, slipped his putter into his black, vinyl bag, threw it over his shoulder, and plopped down in a nearby bench. Only a few other players were out on the course (all doing much better than he had), and two kids played on a see-saw, trying to balance such that they were both in the air.
An older man (maybe in his sixties) sat on a bench next to Tom. He had a slightly wrikled face, but it didn’t carry as many cares as his age. He wore a striped, button-down shirt with some jeans. His hands held a little, round gray hat on top of his lap. He turned to Tom and smiled. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
The words snapped Tom out of his funk. “Ah yes, it is,” he said, watching a few large clouds float overhead.
“Have you lived in this area long?” the man asked.
“No, just a couple years. I go to Town City University. I’m done in the spring.”
“And that frisbee golf is your hobby, then?”
Tom winced at the misnaming of his sport. “Yeah, I enjoy disc golf quite a bit. Between school and” – he walked out on a ledge a little – “church, I need something to simply relax.”
The older man caught his little nuance, like an Ixthus symbol of old, and replied, “Ah, you’re a Believer, eh? I go to Assemblies of God on Traffic Way.”
Tom hadn’t heard of it. “I’m at Revival Fellowship.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of that place. The Spirit’s really moving there. I visited once. Lots of young people. Lots of young people.”
The conversation died for a moment. Tom wasn’t sure what to say next.
“Well, I have a word for you,” the old man said. He sat up straighter and looked Tom directly in the eyes (it was a little intimidating). “This is what the Lord God says. You’re in a time of great transition. You are encountering the things of my Spirit in a new way, and the choice is before you to run from them or walk towards them. The choices you make in the next six months will impact the walk you have with me for the rest of your life. You will either walk closer to me or farther from me, but the time for decision is now. Know that I will be with you in those decisions and give you wisdom if you will only listen to my Spirit with prayer and fasting.”
There it was. He’d broken half the rules from Bill’s training and significantly weirded Tom out by speaking in the first person from God’s perspective. But Tom felt his head spin and his stomach turn over. He stared at the old man as if to say, How did you know all that? He couldn’t pick out words to tell the man and uttered a distant “Thanks.”
The old prophet put his rounded hat on his head and stood up straight, bearing great posture for his age. “I hope to see you out here again, young man. I wish I’d followed God half as closely as you when I was your age. You have a good day.”
In the end, all Tom could think was, the voice of God is a mystery to me.
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