1 Kings 18:41-45 And Elijah said to Ahab, “Go up, eat and drink, for there is a sound of the rushing of rain.” 42 So Ahab went up to eat and to drink. And Elijah went up to the top of Mount Carmel. And he bowed himself down on the earth and put his face between his knees. 43 And he said to his servant, “Go up now, look toward the sea.” And he went up and looked and said, “There is nothing.” And he said, “Go again,” seven times. 44 And at the seventh time he said, “Behold, a little cloud like a man’s hand is rising from the sea.” And he said, “Go up, say to Ahab, ‘Prepare your chariot and go down, lest the rain stop you.’” 45 And in a little while the heavens grew black with clouds and wind, and there was a great rain.
Elijah heard what no one else did — a storm was coming. Though the sky was still blue and the ground still cracked from years of drought, Elijah discerned the sound of abundance. It was a prophetic knowing, a spiritual sensitivity that saw past what was visible into what God was about to do.
But Elijah didn’t just declare it — he prayed it through. He climbed Mount Carmel and bowed low, face between his knees, entering into deep intercession. This was the posture of travail. He sent his servant to look toward the sea seven times. Even when the report was “nothing,” he persisted — because faith doesn’t quit when the sky is clear. Faith presses in until the cloud appears.
We are in a similar moment now. God is preparing to pour out His Spirit again, in power and glory, in ways we have yet to see. There is a latter rain coming — an outpouring for the final harvest. But like Elijah, we must learn to see it before we see it, to pray into the promise, and to position ourselves for it.
Elijah tells Ahab to eat and drink — to rest in what’s coming. This is the spirit of Shabbat — a holy invitation to cease striving and trust that God is moving. In our own lives, we are called not just to work for revival but to rest in the God who brings it. Shabbat is not spiritual passivity; it’s confidence in God’s timing.
And here’s a crucial reminder: Some people get so focused on the tares that they miss the wheat. Yes, Scripture tells us a great apostasy is coming — but it also speaks of a great harvest. These two realities are not in conflict. The wheat grows right in the midst of the weeds (Matthew 13:30). The presence of darkness does not cancel the promise of light. In fact, the harvest at the end of the age comes while the weeds are still present. The farmer does not panic — he waits patiently for the latter rain to ripen the crop (James 5:7).
With prophetic vision, we can see that God is preparing to do something new—a fresh move, a divine shaking, a call to gather the harvest while it is still day. The clouds are forming. The rain is near.
This weekend, can we slow down — truly rest—and allow the Spirit to revitalize us for the mission we’re called to? Can we lay aside distraction and despair long enough to see the wheat, to hear the whisper of rain, and to recapture a vision of God’s plan for our lives? Let this be a time of sacred rest and prophetic realignment. You were made for this moment — for His harvest.
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Is that a trend or something? I don’t know what it is but I’ve heard that phrase said quite a bit. We were even walking down the Wal-Mart isle to pick up a few things and my wife showed me a T-shirt with “I have issues” written across the front! I guess the world is coming to the sad reality that we really do have some issues.
It never ceases to amaze me, the way the devil uses our offenses and our “offendedness” to divide and conquer marriages, relationships, churches — even entire nations!
There’s an old adage, “Have the heart of a lion!” Hearing it, we think, “courage”. This recalls a quote I once heard; “Courage is contagious. When a brave man takes a stand, the spines of others are often stiffened”. I doubt there’s a single hero story in which the fearless leader fails to inspire the righteous determination of his army or people. The voice of the captain resounds through the ranks evoking the fierce cry of every warrior ready to face death or worse, for the cause. Courage truly is contagious.
The Hebrew word for “face” is “panim”, (the Hebrew letters, peh-nun-yud-mem), literally “faces”, a plural word. Normally, when we think about God, we focus only upon one of His “faces” at a time. God is “love” – or He is “holy”– or He is “just”— or He’s a God of “wrath”. Yet, of course, ALL these “faces” are His at once; and so the word “panim” accurately reflects the truth of God’s multifaceted being. As we get to know Him better we begin to appreciate the complexity of His nature and the fact that our focus on one “face” is a very limited view, since there’s so much more going on in His amazing “Personality”.
Patience is one of those things… so hard to learn it… so hard to practice it faithfully in our daily walk. It’s one of of those things I truly wish we didn’t have to learn — but God requires it of us! As I was reading through this passage again in Exodus, it dawned on me that Moses sat on the mountain for six entire days before the Lord spoke to him. He had to patiently wait for the Lord for six days!
The book of Isaiah, often called the Old Testament Gospel, reveals that a child was to be born and his name called “The Mighty God, and the Everlasting Father”. We know that this Child was Yeshua (Jesus) of Nazareth, that He is the unique Son of God, the express image of the invisible God. The throne of David was to be given to Him and He now holds its “key”, a symbol of the right and authority of His reign, which will be consummated when He returns to this world and restores the Kingdom to Israel [Acts 1:6-7].
When I studied Isaiah 53 earnestly in the ancient Hebrew, I was taken back by the Hebrew word for “afflicted” (me-u-neh). In modern Hebrew this word means “tortured”. When I was young, and first learned what torture actually involved, my soul was shocked that this could happen to people; in fact that it was happening to people. That a person could be kept alive for the purpose of intentionally causing him intense agonizing pain was an astounding enigma for my young soul. It really frightened me; and I think that fear of torture is probably the greatest fear that humans can experience. We read about people who have been tortured, with a kind of horrified awe. And quietly we wonder inside, “How can this be?” And, “Could this ever happen to me?”