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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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]In these days, we have to pray for wisdom! In the letter of James, the Lord’s brother, he writes, “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God who gives to all liberally…” [James 1:5] The context for this request is trials! Since this is a time of almost constant trials, God knows we need His wisdom, more than ever.
Throughout the Bible, the faith of the saints was never something passive — but rather a faith of action.
Much of the world is dealing with the greatest disruption of their lives… probably in their lifetimes, particularly in the West, and what is known as the “First World”. Here’s a helpful perspective toward understanding what is taking place.
Continuing our exciting account of the Moravian Revival, I have to highlight the minuscule quantity of saints involved. This was, in proportion to its astounding effect, a very small group, a little church. Yet the amazing demonstration of God’s principle of power through unity re-echoes the events at Pentecost when 120 believers also were in profound unity waiting on the Lord. It wasn’t the numbers but the removal of contention and division that paved the way for a 100-year revival.
The Moravian revival, our current subject, began in the little community of Herrnhut on August 13, 1727, with a tremendous outpouring of the Holy Spirit likened to that of Acts 2. It was a work of God that would transform this group of splintered Christian settlers into a unified missionary endeavor committed to reaching the unsaved around the world.
It never ceases to amaze me how our little girl, Elianna is growing and developing. I remember when she first came into this world, she was so helpless and frail — she couldn’t even move her head without our help. Now, just having turned two, she’s running around and tumbling, jumping, singing and dancing!
We found an interesting story in an old copy of “Our Daily Bread”: In 1883 in Allentown, New Jersey, a wooden Indian — the kind that was seen in front of cigar stores — was placed on the ballot for Justice of the Peace. The candidate was registered under the fictitious name of Abner Robbins. When the ballots were counted, Abner won over incumbent Sam Davis by 7 votes. A similar thing happened in 1938. The name Boston Curtis appeared on the ballot for Republican Committeeman from Wilton, Washington. Actually, Boston Curtis was a mule. The town’s mayor sponsored the animal to demonstrate that people know very little about the candidates. He proved his point. The mule won!