September of last year I was at a conference in Minneapolis. The second day of the conference I was eating lunch by myself, happy and content, and a stranger came to me. He said, “I didn’t know why I was here, because I’m certainly not here for the conference. But when I saw you I knew that I was here to speak to you.”
He proceeded to tell me many things. When he left, I spent some time with Jesus and asked, “Are any of the things this strange man said true?”
To which Jesus replied, “I don’t want to tell you about these words. I want to instead inform you more of My calling on your life. My son, you were created to be creative. You are an Artist and I want you to learn how to stand in that call, strongly.
And not just an Artist- but a Worship Leader…this will be apparent soon”
I knew I was an Artist. But…a Worship Leader? What? I’m not musical! I just write poetry.
This bout with non-understanding launched a process wherein Father taught me how I’ve been limiting what worship truly is. He showed me how being a worship leader does not mean talented singer/song-writer, that worship, really, at it’s essence is this: “responding to God”.
And how my poetry in and of itself is Worship because through it, I am responding to God. And that if I learn what it is to use my Pieces to facilitate the movement of Spirit, I indeed can lead other’s into their own God-responses.
This revelation inspired me to go to my Pastor and offer him my creative services. He told me that he’d send me the bible verses he was preaching about, and I could write whatever I wanted, however he’d retain veto power.
Two Sundays later and my whole church was singing Song of Praise, a song I’d written.
At least once every month of the Fall I was sharing a piece during church in conjunction with the sermon.
Within all of this, too, is the story of God’s faithfulness to me. When I was 13 I lived in a hellhouse. As a result I was suicidal. At 1am I went into the kitchen to grab a butcher knife to slit my wrists- hoping I’d bleed out. As I placed the knife on my left wrist I heard a voice say, “if you don’t take your life, I will use your life to help countless others.”.
That was the first time I’d ever heard the voice of God, and nowhere near the last. When I was in Trinidad, 2 years later for a mission trip a Prophetess came to me, saying, “The Lord has some things He wants me to tell you.” So, I listened. She spoke of things I had not as of yet told anybody in my life. And then she spoke of the future I’d have, she said, “you have the heart of David, and one day you will have words that can move mountains.”
Fast forward to today, and indeed. My words are incredibly powerful. A few weeks ago I was reading over one of the prophetic words that a friend had given me, “Poetry is a way for you to teach God’s values to the generations.”. And instantly, one specific Sunday at church came to mind. A woman had come to me and said that a poem (Titled: I Will Not Let You Live) I had shared during the service a few weeks prior had tremendously helped her wrestle through a serious theological issue (Malachi.Jacob I loved, Esau I hated). And that came from my poetry. So, from that one experience, there is a triple fulfillment of prophecy. And all being done in the context of me, increasingly taking up a mantle as somebody who leads people into responding to God.
- Leading Spark (arts elective in the Discipleship Training School)
- Staffing at Phos House (YWAM Campus Ministry House)
- Volunteering 2x a week at Vera Court- an after school program where I tutor kids.
A bunch of artists got together 2 weeks and made Chinese dumplings. yay for bonding over food!
[Cover Photo is a portrait by Reyna Groff. Find more of her art on ig @reynagroff.art]