Tag Archives: presence of God

End-Time Promise, Spiritual Growth

Standing in His Presence

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Obedience and the Pillar in the Temple of My God

Beloved, this is not just a promise—it’s a call to eternal placement. Yeshua speaks to the faithful Church in Philadelphia, and to all who overcome, He says: “I will make him a pillar in the temple of My God… and I will write on him the name of My God, the name of the city of My God… and My own new name.” (Revelation 3:12, AMP)

This is the reward for those who have learned to follow the voice of the Lord through every season of obedience. This is the destination of every surrendered life.

He Speaks—and We Respond

You know what it means to follow Him. There’s a rhythm to a life lived by the Spirit. When He says go, you go. It might not always make sense. The road is rarely easy. But when He sends, you move.

When He says pray, you pray. Sometimes it’s a whisper in the early morning hours. Sometimes it’s a sudden burden in the grocery store. You stop. You listen. You intercede.

When He says stand, you stand. Even when no one else does. Even when the pressure comes, when the world mocks, when the enemy taunts—you plant your feet on the rock and refuse to bow.

Obedience is not mechanical. It’s not dry. It’s deeply relational. You respond because you love Him. You obey because His voice is precious to you.

And all of it is forming something eternal.

Becoming a Pillar in the Temple of God

Yeshua doesn’t promise ease—He promises permanence. “I will make him a pillar in the temple of My God, and he will never be put out of it.” This is the reward for the one who follows faithfully. Not just to be allowed into Heaven, but to be established in the very presence of God—forever.

A pillar doesn’t wander. It doesn’t waver. It doesn’t fear removal. It stands.

Think of it: after a life of obedience—when He told you to go, and you went; when He told you to pray, and you stayed up through the night; when He told you to stand, and you stood firm—His final command will be this: “Remain.”

No more striving. No more testing. Just standing in His glory, never to be moved.

The Names That Are Written

But He doesn’t stop with making you a pillar. He writes on you three names:

  • The Name of My God – This seals your identity as one who belongs to Him completely.
  • The Name of the city of My God, the New Jerusalem – This declares your citizenship in the place where righteousness dwells.
  • My own new Name – This is the reward of intimacy—knowing Yeshua not only as Savior but as Bridegroom King.

Heaven marks the faithful. The ones who obeyed in secret. The ones who yielded their will, not once, but daily. The ones who lived in holy response to every word He spoke.

These names are not for those who merely believed—they are for those who followed.

The Journey of the Overcomer

This isn’t about spiritual perfection—it’s about spiritual devotion. The one who overcomes is the one who kept going when it would have been easier to turn back. They may have stumbled. They may have wept. But they held on. They listened. They obeyed.

And now, the final word is not “go,” or “pray,” or even “stand”—but “remain.”

Remain in the place you were prepared for. Remain near to the fire of My presence. Remain as a pillar in the temple of My God.

The Spirit Is Still Speaking

“He who has an ear, let him hear and heed what the Spirit says to the churches.” (Revelation 3:13, AMP)

He’s speaking now, even as you read this. Can you hear Him calling? Not to perform. Not to earn. But to return to the simplicity of obedience.

This is your invitation. Obey again. Surrender again. Love Him again with all your heart. For every act of obedience is shaping your place in eternity.

Let the world chase comfort. Let the crowds pursue applause. You, Beloved, pursue the voice of the One who walks among the lampstands.

Because the day is coming when He will speak one final word over you—and you will remain forever, standing in His glory, marked by His Name.

Maybe you’re reading this and thinking, “I haven’t lived this way. I’ve wandered. I haven’t followed His voice.” Beloved, it’s not too late. If you will turn your heart toward Him today—if you will say yes to Yeshua, the Son of God, and surrender to His love—He will receive you. The journey of becoming a pillar begins with one act of faith. One moment of obedience. One whisper of repentance. And He will walk with you every step of the way.

Prayer

Lord Yeshua, give us ears to hear and hearts that respond. Teach us to obey with joy, to follow with love, and to stand with courage. Shape us into pillars in Your presence—unshakable, established, and marked by Your Name. We long to hear You say, “Remain.” Until that day, we will go when You say go, pray when You say pray, and stand when You say stand. Amen.

See Also

P.S.

A Word from the Lord to the One Who Has Ears to Hear

Beloved, I see you. I have watched your quiet obedience, your hidden tears, your steadfast yes when no one else was watching. I know the moments when you went, not knowing where it would lead—only that I had spoken. I heard the prayers you whispered in the night, the ones you thought no one would ever remember. I counted every time you stood for truth when it cost you dearly. I do not forget.

I have not asked you to be the strongest. I have asked you to be faithful. I do not delight in performance or appearance, but in a heart that listens. My eyes search the earth for those who tremble at My Word. You have not gone unnoticed.

Hold fast to what you have. I am coming quickly. Let no one steal your crown. The battle is not in vain, and the labor is not forgotten. Soon, very soon, I will speak one final word over you—not command nor commission, but reward. I will say, Remain.

And you will.

Not in the outer courts. Not at a distance.

But as a pillar in the temple of My God, inscribed with My Name, fixed in My presence, established in My love. Forever.

So listen closely, Church. The Spirit is speaking still.

Come back to your first love. Walk in My steps. Trust My voice.

And you will overcome.

Presence

The Presence

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Here, Yet Longed For – Waiting, Yet Responding

There is a holy tension woven into every step of the believer’s walk: God is here, yet we still cry out for Him to come. We are filled with the Holy Spirit, yet we pause in sacred stillness, waiting to receive. We are seated with Christ in heavenly places, and yet we stand on trembling knees, longing for His touch, listening for His whisper. This paradox is not confusion—it is communion. It is the heartbeat of a people who know the nearness of God and still yearn for deeper glory.

Yeshua promised, “I am with you always, even to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20, NASB). His presence is not a fleeting emotion or a rare visitation; it is an unshakable truth. He is the indwelling King, the One who lives in us through His Spirit. And yet, the cry of the Bride has never ceased: “Come, Lord Jesus!” (Revelation 22:20). We do not cry out because He has left us—we cry because our hearts burn for the fullness of His reign. We carry both the fire of His presence and the ache of His return. We are lovers caught in the tension of already and not yet.

In the quiet morning hours, we wait—not as beggars, but as children with open hands. We are not pleading for the Spirit to visit as a guest; we are welcoming Him as Lord. The Spirit does not merely come upon us; He abides within us (John 14:17). But abiding does not cancel out pursuit. Presence does not negate hunger. In fact, it deepens it. To truly know God is to want more of Him. To experience His nearness is to be undone by His holiness and cry out, “Let me see Your glory!” as Moses did (Exodus 33:18).

This is the mystery of The Presence—He is here, and yet we seek. We are filled, and yet we thirst. This is not double-mindedness; it is devotion. It is the heart that refuses to settle for the outer courts when the veil has been torn. It is the spirit that says, “Thank You, Lord,” and “Come, Lord,” in the same breath. To wait on the Lord is not inactivity; it is posture. It is listening with the ears of the heart and responding with readiness.

I’ve found myself in that place more than once during worship. A moment comes where the air changes—where the room stills, and I feel as if Yeshua Himself just passed by my side. It’s not imagination. It’s not emotion. It’s Presence. My heart reaches out, desperate to hold onto Him, to catch Him, to remain in that moment. I stretch toward Him—not with hands, but with spirit—and still, He slips just beyond reach. Not out of cruelty, but invitation. He stirs my hunger so I will seek Him more. He walks by not to tease me, but to awaken my pursuit.

Elijah stood on the mountain, waiting for God. The wind came, but the Lord was not in it. The earthquake shook, but still, He was not there. Then came the still, small voice (1 Kings 19:11–12). That whisper was not absence; it was intimacy. To know The Presence is to slow down enough to hear the whisper and be still enough to recognize the weight of glory.

We stand in worship not to awaken God, but to awaken ourselves. We listen not to earn His presence, but to align with it. The Church must learn again how to wait—not as those abandoned, but as those expected to move when He speaks. Like the priests who stood still in the Jordan while the people passed through, or the servants at Cana who filled jars before they knew why, we are called to obey even when we don’t understand. The Presence moves with those who are willing to respond.

The Presence is not a mood. It is a Person. He is not summoned by music or stirred by emotional theatrics. He is drawn to humility, hunger, and holiness. And He is already here. The question is not, “Will He come?” but rather, “Will we notice, and will we respond?”

Beloved, this is the posture of a people who know their God: waiting without wavering, listening without rushing, worshiping without distraction, and obeying without delay. The Presence is here. The Spirit lives within you. But the measure of your awareness determines the depth of your response. He stands at the door and knocks. Not because He is far—but because He is kind. He wants to be welcomed, not merely acknowledged.

So we say, “Come, Lord,” not from absence, but from adoration. We wait—not because He delays, but because we trust His timing. We stand—not to impress Him, but to align with Him. We listen—not because He is silent, but because His voice is worth every ounce of our attention.

And when He speaks, we move.

Prayer

A Cry for the Fullness of His Presence

Abba Father,

In the name of Yeshua, I bow low before You. I lay down every agenda, every distraction, every false comfort, and I lift my heart in holy surrender. I do not seek what Your hand can give—I seek Your face. I long not for blessings, but for The Presence of God, the nearness of Your glory that transforms everything it touches.

King of Majesty,

I confess: You are here. You dwell within me by Your Spirit. But I cry out for more—not because You are absent, but because I have not yielded all. Burn away every barrier I have built. Tear down every idol I have entertained. Let there be no room in me untouched by Your holiness.

Yeshua, my Bridegroom and King,

I want to walk with You as Enoch walked. I want to host Your presence as David did—undignified in worship, unshaken in trust, unrelenting in pursuit. Let the fear of the Lord mark my steps. Let the oil of intimacy flow from my life. Make me a living altar, a burning lampstand, a ready vessel.

Holy Spirit,

I submit my time, my thoughts, my strength, my affections—all of it. Teach me to wait without impatience, to listen without assumption, to respond without delay. May my ears be tuned to Your whisper and my soul quick to obey. Set a fire in my bones that only Your presence can sustain.

I declare by faith: Your presence is my portion, my pursuit, and my prize. Let nothing satisfy me but more of You. Let my life echo one cry—“Come, Lord, dwell in me fully and reign through me completely.”

In the name of Yeshua,

Amen.

See Also

The Vision (for the seekers)

The One Who Walks Among the Lampstands

A Companion to “The Presence”

I stood in worship, hands lifted, heart burning, when the atmosphere shifted. The room was still, but something eternal began to move. The air thickened—rich, like frankincense mingled with rain. It was the kind of stillness that makes you forget your surroundings and remember your soul.

Then—I saw Him.

He walked among golden lampstands, their flames alive and unyielding. No smoke, just fire—pure and holy. The scent of burning oil and sacred history lingered in the air. Each flame seemed to bow as He passed, and though He moved with quiet authority, every step reverberated through the floor like thunder sealed in mercy.

His eyes were not just aflame—they were alive. They searched, they saw, they pierced and healed. His robe flowed like light through water, and across His chest was the golden sash of a High Priest. I knew in that moment: this was the One who walks among the churches. The One from Revelation. The Lord Himself.

But more than that—He looked at me, and He saw me.

Not as a background worshiper. Not as an unnoticed soul. He saw me—and in His eyes I wasn’t just included. I was known. I mattered. His gaze didn’t expose me in shame—it clothed me in love. I was no longer a bystander. I was being drawn in.

He said nothing at first. He just looked. And in that holy silence, waves of knowing crashed over me. My spirit stirred, aching for more, overwhelmed by a love too fierce to describe.

He moved past me—so close the air felt charged with glory. My skin tingled. My heart raced. I breathed in, and the air itself tasted heavy with holiness—sweet like honey, but deep like earth after rain. My spirit cried out, Don’t let Him pass me by. I reached—not with hands, but with hunger. I could not move. I could only ache.

Then He turned.

His voice was the sound of many waters—like the ocean speaking Scripture. Fierce and tender. Strong and near. “You have cried out for My presence,” He said, “but My presence is not a moment. It is a life. A lamp kept burning.”

“I do not walk among the lampstands to be observed. I walk to inspect, to ignite, and to call. You are not waiting for Me to arrive. I am waiting for you to become ready.”

He stepped closer. His hand rested on my chest, and I expected fire—but it was weight, like glory wrapped in peace. My knees buckled beneath the touch. I tasted my own tears, but they were holy—not sorrowful, but set apart.

“Let this be your portion,” He said, “to wait when others rush, to listen when others speak, to move when I breathe. Keep the flame. Trim the wick. Be the dwelling place. I do not visit the casual—I abide with the surrendered.”

Then He was gone.

But the scent remained. The fire remained. The ache remained. I opened my eyes and the room was just a room again—but I was no longer the same.

He had passed by—but not to tease or to test. He passed by to awaken. To stir the cry that says, “More of You, Lord—whatever the cost.”

And that cry still burns in me now.

Renewal

He Walks Among the Lampstands

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Christ in the Midst of His Church

Beloved,

The risen Christ is not distant. He is not watching from the clouds, disinterested in the state of His Church. The Lord is among His churches and walks among the lampstands. “Then I turned to see the voice that was speaking with me. And having turned, I saw seven golden lampstands; and in the middle of the lampstands I saw one like a son of man” (Revelation 1:12–13 NASB). Yeshua, glorified and enthroned, has not abandoned His people—He stands in the very center of His Church, examining hearts, calling us to return.

He sees beyond the surface. His eyes are like a flame of fire (Revelation 1:14), discerning the true condition of the Church—not what we present, but what we actually are. His voice is like the sound of many waters, full of power and authority. He holds the messengers of the churches in His hand and walks with holy purpose through the sanctuaries that bear His name. The Lord is among His churches. Every congregation matters to Him. Every lampstand must burn with holy oil, not human effort.

The Lord is among His churches right now.

He is not a memory or a theological concept. He is present. As He spoke to the seven churches of Asia, He speaks to us now—calling out compromise, commending faithfulness, and offering the reward of His presence. His walk among the lampstands is not a stroll; it is an inspection. The Lord is among His churches, and like a vinekeeper tending His vineyard, He examines each branch for fruit. “Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit, He takes away; and every branch that does bear fruit, He prunes it so that it may bear more fruit” (John 15:2 NASB).

Church, this is our hour of visitation. Will we recognize Him? Will we open the door? “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and will dine with him, and he with Me” (Revelation 3:20 NASB). This is not only personal; it is corporate. He knocks on the doors of entire congregations. And when He enters, everything changes—power returns, holiness is restored, love reignites, and the fear of the Lord comes back to the sanctuary.

Let us make room for the Lord who walks among us.

This is not a time for spiritual apathy. It is a time for repentance, reverence, and renewal. We must be like John, who “fell at His feet like a dead man” when he saw the Lord (Revelation 1:17 NASB). There must be awe again in the Church. There must be the fear of the Lord—not terror, but holy trembling before the One who holds the keys of death and Hades. He is not asking us to perform. He is asking us to return.

He called Ephesus back to her first love (Revelation 2:4). He warned Laodicea that her lukewarmness made Him sick (Revelation 3:16). He praised Smyrna’s endurance, Pergamum’s holding fast, and Philadelphia’s faithfulness. Every message begins with the same declaration: “I know your deeds.” The Lord who walks among the lampstands is not fooled. He knows what is real and what is not.

And yet, He is full of mercy.

He speaks that we might live. He disciplines that we might awaken. “Those whom I love, I rebuke and discipline; therefore, be zealous and repent” (Revelation 3:19 NASB). If we respond, He will come in glory. If we humble ourselves, He will dwell with us. If we prepare Him a resting place, He will pour out His Spirit once again.

Beloved, let us prepare our hearts and our churches.

The Lord is here. Let the lampstand be holy. The Lord is among His churches, and let the oil be fresh. Let the Bride be adorned. Let us burn again—not with strategy or entertainment, but with the fire of His presence. Let every elder, pastor, intercessor, and believer cry out: “Come, Lord Yeshua. Walk in the midst of Your people. Purify Your Church. Be pleased to dwell among us.”

Prayer:

Lord Yeshua, You are the One who walks among the lampstands. You see what no man sees. You know our true condition. We ask You to come—not just to observe, but to reign. Let Your presence purify our altars, renew our love, and restore our fear of the Lord. We repent for every form of compromise. Let the fire fall again. Let the light shine bright again. Let Your Church become the place where Your glory dwells. In Your holy and awesome name, amen.

⸻

See Also

Annointing

The Fragrance of the Anointing

“Therefore God, Your God, has anointed You with the oil of joy above Your companions. All Your robes are fragrant with myrrh and aloes and cassia.”
— Psalm 45:7–8 AMP

Telling the Truth in Love
Truth, when given in love, may crack the jar—but it releases the fragrance of Christ.

Beloved, do you not feel it stirring even now? The scent of something ancient, yet living. Something sacred, yet near. The Fragrance of the Anointing is not of this world. It is not conjured or copied. It descends. It rests. It fills. And it reveals the presence of the Holy One among His people. It is the witness of the Spirit that Christ, the Anointed One, has come and now dwells in the hearts of those who are fully His.

When Mary broke the alabaster jar and poured it out on the feet of Yeshua, the house was filled with fragrance. But it was not only the perfume—it was worship. It was love that could not be restrained. That same fragrance rises again whenever a soul is crushed in surrender and offered in joy. The anointing always smells like love.

Beloved, the anointing oil was not made of random spices. It was myrrh, bitter and prophetic. It was cinnamon and cassia, warm and royal. It was olive oil, crushed and pressed. Every ingredient whispered the story of the Cross before Golgotha was ever seen. When the priests were anointed, it was not to entertain. It was to minister in the presence of a holy God. That oil marked them. It set them apart. And it carried a fragrance that spoke to everyone around them—God has touched this man. God has consecrated this woman.

That same Spirit, Beloved, now rests upon us. Not in part. Not in shadow. But in fire and fullness. “They were all filled with the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2:4). All. Not a few. Not the leaders only. Every hungry heart received. The room shook. Tongues burst forth. But more than signs and wonders, there was a fragrance—a nearness of God that no words could contain.

Stephen, full of the Spirit, gazed into Heaven. Peter, filled with the Spirit, preached with fire and compassion. Paul, overflowing with the Spirit, wrote of the aroma of Christ, saying, “We are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing” (Second Corinthians 2:15 NASB). This is not a metaphor. It is reality. When the Spirit dwells within you, the air around you shifts. Heaven walks into the room.

Beloved, you cannot hide the fragrance of the anointing. It will find its way through every crack and crevice. A brother once tried. He had prayed, surrendered, and the Spirit had filled him. But he resolved to keep silent. Three days passed. His wife touched his arm and said, “What happened to you?” And he broke. His testimony flowed like living water. The fragrance could not be caged. God had filled him, and his life would never be the same.

This is the promise: “You have an anointing from the Holy One” (First John 2:20). And again, “The anointing you received from Him abides in you” (First John 2:27). Not visits. Abides. He remains with those who host Him in humility and love.

What does this fragrance bring, Beloved?

It brings boldness, for the Spirit fills the mouth with the testimony of Jesus.
It brings joy, for the oil of gladness overflows even in trial.
It brings purity, for the presence of God burns away all that does not please Him.
It brings love, for God is love, and He cannot anoint what He does not indwell.
It brings fruit, not manufactured by effort but born through abiding.

This fragrance is the sign of a consecrated life. It cannot be fabricated. It cannot be downloaded or choreographed. It comes only when the vessel is emptied, cleansed, and offered to God without reservation.

O Church, how long will we settle for strategies without presence? How long will we offer light shows when God desires light-filled hearts? We were never called to entertain the lost—we are called to carry the presence of the Living God. Only the fragrance of the anointing can awaken a sleeping world.

She broke her jar—and with it, her pride, her plans, her past. Only in surrender can the fragrance rise. This is where healing begins.

Mary broke her jar. Will you break yours? Will you open your heart so fully that nothing is held back? Will you welcome the Holy Spirit not as a guest, but as your King? The oil only flows where the altar is built. And altars are built with sacrifice.

You say, “What must I do to walk in this anointing?”

Beloved:

  • Consecrate your heart. Let every hidden sin be confessed. Let every idol be torn down. Holiness is not optional. It is the soil in which the anointing grows.
  • Ask and wait. He is not reluctant. “How much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him?” (Luke 11:13). Ask. And keep asking.
  • Abide in the Word. The Spirit loves the Word. He wrote it. Let it wash you, shape you, and fill your prayers.
  • Obey quickly. The Spirit’s voice is gentle but sure. The anointed do not delay when He calls.
  • Worship always. Not just with music, but with life. Let every breath declare His worth.

Then, Beloved, the fragrance will come. You will not need to announce yourself. God will announce Himself through you. Rooms will be filled. Hearts will be stirred. Christ will be glorified.

Let the fragrance rise.
Lord, I bring my broken jar
Let it pour upon Your feet
Let the house be filled again
With the scent of love complete

Set me apart for joy and flame
Let my life become the sign
That the Spirit rests on man again
And the oil still flows divine

Closing Prayer

Abba, pour the oil of gladness on Your people once more. Let every weary soul be filled. Let every surrendered heart carry the fragrance of Christ. Anoint us to speak with boldness, to love without fear, and to worship without restraint. Let our churches be filled with Your presence and our cities with Your praise. May the oil never stop flowing. In the name of Yeshua our Messiah, amen.

⸻

See Also

Apostolic Prophetic

Break the Box

Return to Me

To My Church, whom I purchased with My own blood:

I love you.
With a love stronger than death.
I have never left you. Even when you built without Me, I remained near.
Even when you organized Me out, I stood at the door and waited.
I have watched every gathering, every song, every schedule.
I know your labor, your love for the lost, your good intentions.
I have seen your heart—and I love you still.

But now I speak—not just in comfort, but in clarity.

You have boxed Me in.

You have created systems to keep things safe.
You have guarded the order, protected the time of leadership, and honed the rhythms of ministry until they flow without Me.

You pray for Me to move, but only in ways that match what you’ve built.
You ask for wisdom, but filter My answer through the language of your traditions.
You hunger for revival, but only if it comes wrapped in the familiar.

Beloved, I cannot be reduced. I will not be managed.
You were made for My presence, not just My principles.
You were born of fire. But now you settle for form.

And when I send someone—one carrying the water you cried for—they are met with silence.
They do not want position.
They did not come to join your program.
They came bearing My Word.
Yet you say:
“Already saved, not here to join, no place here.”

So they pretend to be visitors just to receive attention,
because if they don’t fit your structure, your defenses rise to protect your flow.

And I weep.

Not in anger, but in grief—because I came to you through them, and you did not recognize Me.

But even now, I speak as a Father: Break the Box.

Tear down what you’ve built in your own strength.
Not all of it must go—but all of it must bow.

Welcome again the voice of the Shepherd.
Welcome the messengers I send, even when they do not wear your badge.
Welcome the apostolic voice that rebuilds from ruins.
Welcome the prophetic cry that stirs holy discomfort.
Welcome the evangelistic fire that won’t settle for numbers.
Welcome the pastoral heart that bleeds for healing, not performance.
Welcome the teaching wellspring that flows from Spirit and truth.

Let the fivefold gifts not compete, but complete one another—for the building up of My Body in love.

You say, “But Lord, we only wanted to do things decently and in order.”
I reply: My order begins with Me at the center, not on the sidelines.

You say, “But this is what worked in the past.”
I reply: I am doing a new thing. Will you perceive it?

You say, “But we are still preaching the Word.”
I reply: You quote Me, but do you wait for Me?

Beloved, this is not My anger.
This is My jealous love.
I will not let you drift into lifeless motion when I died to give you abundant life.
I will not allow My Bride to settle for form when she was made for flame.

So I stand outside.
I knock.
I wait.
And I whisper: “Let Me in again.”

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in…” (Revelation 3:20, NASB)

Break the box. Open the door. I’m still here.

I love you too much to leave you as you are.

Signed,
The One who walks among the lampstands,
who calls you by name, and who will finish what He began in you.

See Also

Holy Spirit, Power

Fire Shut Up in My Bones

A Holy Fire That Cannot Be Contained

Beloved, there is a fire that does not come from man. It cannot be stirred up by music or forced by emotion. It descends from heaven. It rests on those who tremble at the Word. It burns in the soul of those who have seen the face of God and cannot remain silent. It is the fire shut up in the bones.

The prophet Jeremiah cried out in anguish, “But if I say, ‘I will not remember Him or speak anymore in His name,’ then my heart becomes a burning fire shut up in my bones; and I am tired of holding it in, and I cannot endure it” (Jeremiah 20:9, NASB). This was not the complaint of a man seeking attention. This was the groan of one possessed by the Word of the Lord. The message was not something he carried—it carried him.

When the Spirit of God dwells in you, He does not come to sit quietly. He comes with flame. He comes with weight. He is not an accessory to your life—He is your life. “In Him we live and move and exist” (Acts 17:28, NASB). If He does not breathe into us, we are dust. If He does not speak, we are lost. If He does not move, we are powerless. We are utterly dependent on Him for all things.

This holy fire reveals our nothingness apart from Him and fills us with the fullness of His presence. And oh, the joy of knowing we are His! Not because we are strong, but because He is faithful. Not because we are worthy, but because He is rich in mercy.

The Power of the Word

And when that fire takes hold of you, you cannot help but overflow.

Like David, who cried, “My heart was hot within me, while I was musing the fire burned; then I spoke with my tongue” (Psalm 39:3, NASB), you will not contain the praise. The praise will contain you. Like the apostles, who declared, “We cannot stop speaking about what we have seen and heard” (Acts 4:20, NASB), your life will become a living testimony. Not because you try to evangelize—but because the flame in you draws the cold and the broken near.

Unbelievers will be pulled by the light. They will ask, “What is this joy that burns in you? What is this peace that does not flicker? What is this love that consumes fear?” And you will tell them: It is Yeshua, the Lamb who was slain and now reigns in glory. He set me ablaze. He is my fire, my breath, my song.

This fire is not a passing feeling. It is not a temporary high. It is the mark of those who have been with Jesus. It is the seal of those who are crucified with Him and yet live—not they themselves, but Messiah in them. (Galatians 2:20)

When God sets you on fire, you will burn with love that intercedes, with truth that pierces, and with mercy that welcomes. You will long not only to dwell in the secret place but to call others into it. The fire in your bones is not only for you—it is for the nations.

And that fire will not be quenched. The more you give, the more He fills. The more you pour, the more you overflow. And what you cannot contain becomes your witness. It becomes your worship. It becomes the sound of heaven through a yielded vessel.

So cry out if you must. Shout if you must. Dance if you must. Let the fire speak. Let it be said of you, “This one burns for God.”

⸻

You lit a fire I cannot still,
It burns through flesh and breaks my will.
It roars with love and speaks Your name—
Until the world beholds Your flame.

⸻

Closing Prayer:

Yeshua, You alone are life. I have no breath apart from You. No strength. No hope. No light. Set me ablaze with holy fire, that my bones may not rest until You are glorified in all the earth. Let the overflow of Your Spirit in me draw the lost, heal the broken, and exalt Your name. I lay myself at Your feet in total dependence—consume me with Your presence. In the name of the Risen One, amen.

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See Also

Holiness and Revival

Testimonies that Glorify God


Let God Be Glorified

Come and hear, all who fear God, and I will tell what He has done for my soul (Psalm 66:16, NASB).

This is the voice of one who has tasted the mercy of El Elyon and cannot remain silent. He does not draw attention to himself, but to the power of God. Every true testimony flows from this fountain—it glorifies God alone, not the one who speaks.

The Apostle John, who leaned against Yeshua’s chest and saw the glory of the Word made flesh, heard these words from Heaven: They overcame him because of the blood of the Lamb and because of the word of their testimony (Revelation 12:11, NASB). Notice where the victory rests. Not in strategy, eloquence, or charisma—but in the Lamb and what He has done. The testimony is not a platform for self—it is a declaration of God’s faithfulness and mercy.

Even our Savior warned, Beware of practicing your righteousness before men to be noticed by them (Matthew 6:1, NASB). The danger is not just in falsehood, but in misdirected truth—when we say the right things for the wrong reasons, and shift the spotlight onto ourselves.

Let Boasting Die at the Cross

The Apostle Paul could have boasted. His résumé was unmatched—zealous, learned, bold. Yet he said, Far be it from me to boast, except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ (Galatians 6:14, NASB). The cross is where all pride dies. It is where we remember that we were nothing, and He gave us everything. Any story that begins with “I did” must be reexamined. Let every true testimony begin with “God moved.”

Paul reminded the Corinthians, So then neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but God who causes the growth (1 Corinthians 3:7, NASB). We are nothing more than vessels—fragile, breakable, and utterly dependent on El Shaddai to fill us. Testimonies should cause awe, not applause. They should humble, not elevate. If we speak of answered prayers or miracles, let us speak as those trembling in the presence of a holy God.

Break you jar before the Lord
Before the healing comes, the jar must break. This is where revival begins—on our faces, with nothing held back.

Where Is the Power We Preach?

We have the Word. We memorize the verses. We know what to say. But where is the power? Where is the Presence? We talk about revival, but do we carry it? Yeshua said:

I assure you and most solemnly declare to you that anyone who believes in Me [as Savior] will also perform the same actions as I do. Moreover, they will accomplish even greater feats in scope and reach, for I am going to the Father. And I will do whatever you ask in My name [as My representative], this I will do, so that the Father may be glorified and celebrated in the Son. If you ask Me anything in My name [as My representative], I will do it (John 14:12–14, AMP).

We love to quote verse 15—If you [really] love Me, you will keep and obey My commandments—but are we living verses 12 through 14? We say we follow Him, but where is the fruit? Where is the unmistakable evidence of His power and Presence moving through us?

If we are honest, we must ask: Have we crafted denominations, doctrinal statements, and creeds to soothe our lack of faith? Are we building altars of reason because we have forgotten the fire of God? When Peter was in the Upper Room before Pentecost, he probably cried out, “Lord, we have nothing left but You.” Have we reached that place? Have we truly died to self?

Truly Dying to Self: A Forgotten Cry

What does it mean to truly die to self? We speak of it often, but do we live it? Picking up our crosses daily sounds poetic until obedience costs us something. Listening to His voice is inspiring until He asks us to release our comfort, our pride, or our reputation. Is there anyone alive today who can say, “I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20, NASB)?

If our hearts were truly right with God, these things would happen. Miracles would follow our prayers. Deliverance would spring from our declarations. Revival would not be a hope—it would be a holy eruption. The reason it doesn’t happen is not that God has changed. He is being true to His Word. He tests hearts. He purifies motives. He waits for a people who will make Him the center of their testimony, not themselves.

We need to keep pressing into Him, asking Him to search us and refine us. We must return to the altar, not to tell God what we’ve done, but to ask Him to reveal our motives so that we may be pure vessels. Our testimonies should reflect the cry of John the Baptist: He must increase, but I must decrease (John 3:30, NASB).

She broke her jar—and with it, her pride, her plans, her past. Only in surrender can the fragrance rise. This is where healing begins.

Let Testimonies Burn with His Glory

Even our best obedience is not a trophy—it is a response. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them (Ephesians 2:10, NASB). We are not the authors of greatness. We are the canvas upon which the Master Artist paints His glory.

Let every testimony burn with the truth: It was God. All of it. The mercy. The healing. The change. If He used us, it was not because we were worthy—it was because He is good.

Do not share to impress. Share to exalt. Let your testimony be a trembling offering that points upward, not inward. Speak not of how much faith you had, but how faithful El Olam was to you. Let the story glorify the Name above all names—Yeshua, the Lamb who was slain.

Let Us Pray

O El Shaddai, Mighty and All-Sufficient One,

We come before You with broken hearts, confessing how often we have spoken to be seen, shared to be praised, and testified to exalt ourselves. Forgive us, Lord. Purify our hearts, cleanse our lips, and strip away every hidden motive that does not glorify You.

Teach us what it means to truly die daily—to applause, to recognition, to the craving for man’s approval. Let our testimonies rise like holy incense—fragrant only because You have been faithful. Let them carry the weight of Your glory, not the weight of our names.

We lay our words at Your feet. Sanctify them. Let every syllable exalt the Name above all names—Yeshua, our Redeemer. Let our stories become songs of Your mercy, drawing hearts not to us, but to Your throne.

Burn away pride, expose every imitation, and silence the flesh. Let the fire of Your Spirit purify our witness until only Your power remains. And when we speak, let the world see not us, but You living through us.

We join with the saints, with the seraphim, and with all creation in one cry:

You alone are worthy.

Amen.

Made meek by the spirit
A weathered wooden cross stands silhouetted against a glowing sunset, marking the place where pride ends and surrender begins.

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See Also

Return

Return to the Fire of His Presence

We have the Word. We know the words. We say what we say, and we know what we shouldsay. We repeat them often enough. We try to stir up enough faith to believe. We convince ourselves that we are holy, that we are doing what the Lord wants—but to what end?

Where is the Power? Where is the Presence?

In a vision of Pentecost, Peter cries out, “Lord, we have nothing left but You.” What does that truly mean? Has anyone reached that place? Do we even understand what that cry demands of us today? Surrounded by noise, comfort, distraction—are any of us truly in love with the Lord that deeply?

How do we reach the end of ourselves, the end of all this stuff, to see God’s power manifest, present, and carried with us again?

Beloved, hear the call of the Spirit: return to the fire of His presence.

Not to the words only. Not to the form. Not to the motion. But to the living presence of the Lord.

We say the right things. We know the Scriptures. We quote the prophets. We recite the creeds. We cry, “Lord, Lord,” and we work in His name. But the aching question remains: Where is the power? Where is the trembling of the ground under His footsteps? Where is the weight of glory that makes men weep and fall on their faces?

O generation—you have built much, but have you touched the hem of His robe?
You have filled the air with worship, but have you heard His voice in the secret place?
You’ve followed strategies and ministries and models, but have you fallen in love with the Lord Himself?
You are not alone—I, too, have walked this path. You are just like me. But we cannot stay here.

The time has come for holy desperation.
The time has come to say with tears and trembling:

“Lord, we have nothing left but You.”

What does that mean? It means the idols must fall.
It means we throw down the golden calves of comfort, ego, platform, and applause.
It means we stop clinging to religion that denies the power of God—and we press in until the fire falls again.
It means the pursuit of His presence becomes everything. Not a side note. Not a sermon point. Everything.

O brother. O sister. O weary heart—have you reached the end of yourself yet?

When your strength fails, He becomes your strength.
When your words fall flat, His Spirit groans with power.
When your plans are spent and your hands are empty—then, finally, you are ready.
You are not disqualified because you’re weak.
You are disqualified only if you still trust in your own strength.

Love is breaking through when the Father's in the room
Believers gathered in deep intercessory prayer, lifting silent groanings before God, surrounded by symbols of His covenant promises.

God waits—for those who will weep between the porch and the altar,
for those who will rend their hearts and not just their garments.

“Return to Me with all your heart,” says the Lord, “and I will return to you” 
Joel 2:12–13, NASB).

Sound the Shofar Today
A holy cry rises at sunset—the shofar sounds, declaring to heaven and earth: this world belongs to the Lord.

Let the shofar blast awaken you.
Shake yourself from the dust! The King is at the door!

Will He find faith? Will He find fire?

Or will He find us asleep in the comfort of our programs, while His presence waits outside?

Return to the fire of His presence.

Return with fasting. Return with weeping. Return with longing.
He is not far.
He waits for the brokenhearted.
He dwells with the contrite and lowly of spirit.
Let the cry rise again from the depths of your soul:

“We have nothing left but You.”

And beloved—He is enough.

A Prayer for the Returning Heart

Father, we have wandered in our own ways.
We’ve sung Your songs but not sought Your face.
We’ve built our altars, but we left off the fire.
Have mercy on us, O God. Strip us of every false thing.
Let the fear of the Lord return to our hearts.
We cry out—not for blessings, not for breakthrough, not for platforms—but for You.

We want You, Yeshua.
We need You, Ruach HaKodesh.
Consume us. Burn away everything that hinders love.
Let the fire fall again—not around us, but in us.
Make us the kind of people who carry Your presence.
Let the world see again that You are not an idea.

You are the Living God.
In the holy name of Yeshua,

Amen.

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See Also

Holy Spirit

Boldness in the Presence of God

A Call to the Fearless

This word was born last night at the Pray West Boylston prayer meeting at Freedom Worship Center, and was sparked in part by a message two Sundays ago by Samuel Maisonet, formerly of Faith Church in Auburn. It is a word for now — for you, beloved of God.

The world trembles at the sound of danger. Men pray for safety; hearts seek shelter. But I write to you, beloved, that you would not pray as the world prays. You are called higher. You are summoned to boldness in the presence of God.

When the early Church faced threats — real threats of death and imprisonment — they did not plead for protection. They did not beg to be hidden. They lifted their voices and cried:

“And now, Lord, take note of their threats, and grant that Your bond-servants may speak Your word with all confidence.” — Acts 4:29 (NASB)

The ground beneath them shook. Heaven answered with fire. They were filled again with the Holy Spirit. They spoke the Word of God with boldness, not fear.

But boldness is not born of flesh. It is born in the presence of God.

Come and see the prophet Isaiah. He was drawn up to the heights of heaven, where the Lord sat enthroned, high and lifted up. Seraphim circled and cried:

“Holy, Holy, Holy is the LORD of armies, The whole earth is full of His glory.” — Isaiah 6:3 (NASB)

Break you jar before the Lord
Before the healing comes, the jar must break. This is where revival begins—on our faces, with nothing held back.
She broke her jar—and with it, her pride, her plans, her past. Only in surrender can the fragrance rise. This is where healing begins.

Isaiah fell on his face:

“Woe to me, for I am ruined! Because I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of armies.” — Isaiah 6:5 (NASB)

The fire of God touched him. His guilt was taken away. His sin was atoned for. Then — only then — did he hear the voice of the Lord:

“Whom shall I send, and who will go for Us?” — Isaiah 6:8 (NASB)

Return to the Lord in brokenness
Return to the Lord in brokenness

Beloved, Isaiah did not hesitate. His heart, once trembling, now burned. He answered:

“Here am I. Send me!” — Isaiah 6:8 (NASB)

This is the secret: Boldness comes after brokenness. Confidence is born from cleansing. You cannot stand fearless before men until you have bowed low before God.

Boldness in the presence of God is not arrogance — it is holiness on fire. It is the soul washed clean by the blood of Yeshua, the lips purified by His mercy, the heart inflamed by His Spirit. It is the Church, shaken but unshaken. It is the believer, trembling but bold.

And understand this: When God speaks, His command is often 180 degrees opposite to human logic. Where we would pray for protection, He calls us to pray for boldness. Where we would build walls, He calls us to tear them down with His love. His ways are not our ways — they are higher.

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways,” declares the LORD. — Isaiah 55:8 (NASB)

“Whoever wants to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.” — Matthew 16:25 (NASB)

Boldness is not reckless noise; it is love in motion. Last night, the Spirit whispered a deeper truth: it is not only God’s love that draws people — it is God’s love in us. The world will not be won by arguments or anger, but by a bold, visible love that cannot be denied. The true disciple goes out in love and shines. They see Yeshua in us.

As the song “Send Me” by Bethel Music so beautifully sings:

“And before You even ask, oh my answer will be yes.”

This is the posture of boldness: a surrendered yes before the question is even asked.

Will you not come? Will you not enter the presence of the Most High? Will you not fall before Him and be made new?

Do not pray merely for safety. Pray for boldness.
Do not ask merely for comfort. Ask to be sent.
Do not walk in mere knowledge. Walk in love.

The Lord is asking even now:

“Whom shall I send, and who will go for Us?”

Let the cry rise from your cleansed lips:

“Here am I. Send me!”

The world is waiting for the fearless.
The lost are waiting for the loved.
Heaven is waiting for the willing.
The Lord of Glory is waiting for you.

From trembling knees to lion’s roar,
You lift my voice to heights unknown.
In fire and cloud, You speak once more —
The King of Glory claims His own.

Closing Prayer

O Holy Father, El Shaddai,

I come trembling before Your throne. Cleanse my heart with Your holy fire; purify my lips with Your coal. Let every fear be burned away by Your presence. Let every weakness be clothed in Your strength.

Fill me, O Lord, with the power of Your Spirit. Let boldness rise where once there was fear. Let Your love overflow from my heart. Let my voice proclaim the name of Yeshua without shrinking back. Grant me the courage to answer when You call, to stand firm when others fall away, to speak when silence tempts me.

Here I am, Lord — send me.
Here I am, Lord — fill me.
Here I am, Lord — use me for Your glory.

In the mighty name of Yeshua, the King of kings,

Amen.

See Also

Worship

Why are you here?

Call to Worship – Return to the Lord

We come not for a show. Not for noise. Not for programs or performances.
We come for You, O Lord.
You alone are our portion. You alone are our prize.
“Whom have I in heaven but You? And with You, I desire nothing on earth.” (Psalm 73:25, NASB).
If You do not lead, we will not move. If You do not speak, we will not pretend.
“If Your presence does not go with us, do not lead us up from here.” (Exodus 33:15, NASB).
Apart from You, we are lost—wandering, thirsty, broken in the dark.
“Apart from Me you can do nothing.” (John 15:5, NASB).

But You, O Lord, have done great things for us!
You took our sin and nailed it to the cross.
“He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.” (2 Corinthians 5:21, NASB).
You crushed the power of death and rose in glory.
“But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who are asleep.” (1 Corinthians 15:20, NASB).
You broke every chain, tore every veil, and silenced the accuser.
“Having disarmed the rulers and authorities, He made a public display of them, having triumphed over them through Him.” (Colossians 2:15, NASB).
You poured Yourself out—completely, utterly—for us.
“He emptied Himself by taking the form of a bond-servant… He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:7–8, NASB).

So let us come today and pour ourselves out before You.
Let us break our jars at Your feet, like the woman with the alabaster vial.
“She broke the vial and poured it over His head.” (Mark 14:3, NASB).
Let the fragrance of surrender fill the room.
“She has anointed My body beforehand for the burial. Truly I say to you, wherever the gospel is preached… what this woman has done will also be told.” (Mark 14:8–9, NASB).
Not holding back. Not measuring. Not waiting.
You are here, Lord—and You are worthy of it all.
“For where two or three have gathered together in My name, I am there in their midst.” (Matthew 18:20, NASB).

We do not seek a structure. We seek the Shepherd.
“I am the good shepherd, and I know My own, and My own know Me.” (John 10:14, NASB).
We do not follow religion. We follow the Lamb.
“These are the ones who follow the Lamb wherever He goes.” (Revelation 14:4, NASB).
We do not chase performance. We pursue presence.
And Your presence is here.
“Yet You are holy, You who are enthroned upon the praises of Israel.” (Psalm 22:3, NASB).
We bow low. We lift high. We yield everything to You.
“Therefore I urge you… to present your bodies as a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God.” (Romans 12:1, NASB).

Yeshua is risen. The King has triumphed.
The serpent is crushed. The grave is empty.
“The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.” (Romans 16:20, NASB).
“He is not here, for He has risen, just as He said.” (Matthew 28:6, NASB).
The throne is occupied. The gates of hell are falling.
“Upon this rock I will build My church, and the gates of Hades will not overpower it.” (Matthew 16:18, NASB).
All authority belongs to You—forever.
“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to Me.” (Matthew 28:18, NASB).

So we worship not to be seen, but to see You.
“We would see Jesus.” (John 12:21, KJV).
Not to impress, but to adore.
“Worship the Lord in the splendor of holiness; Tremble before Him, all the earth.” (Psalm 96:9, NASB).
Not to receive, but to respond.
“We love, because He first loved us.” (1 John 4:19, NASB).

In the name of Yeshua, the risen Lord, we declare: Victory belongs to the Lord—and He is here!
“Salvation, glory, and power belong to our God.” (Revelation 19:1, NASB).

See Also