I hear the opening of cupboards and the bathroom door shut in the hotel room. She is awake, the Prophet. I know it is morning, time to wake up. My eyes stay shut while I move slowly, upright. I whisper surrendering thoughts to Him, fresh mercies come with the morning. I wonder what He can show us today during this time set apart to soak up His beauty through His creation in Maine, US. That thought compels me to put on my sneakers and pack my journal. It is still dark outside which reminds me the sun is on its way, the reason I am awake.
We walk side by side to the waterside Him, me and her, we tread through the dark of the morning with our minds fixed on the sunrise, our eyes shine light.The sky in the distance is dark, but less dark than before. Hope is rising. The chains are being opened, the fetter smashed. Our hearts are getting more free each moment.
We sit apart, quiet, she and I. Two hearts, hungry for His beauty. We agree, we are part of One Body and therefore what we ask will be done. Show us Your glory; our heart's cry.
We sit against the cold stone and hold back shivers, faith in the sun that shall soon warm our cold bones from their slumber. Faithful like the sunrise, I tell Him who He is to me and He reminds me of the mountain tops and the heights He is calling us to walk on. Minutes of anticipation feel like hours, time is multiplied and peace floods like a river, anxiety holds no power and He rules over the water, waves calmed by His outstretched hand.
Then the dark was invaded with pink, beauty of places above reflected before my eyes as they scanned to see, slow to take it in, unable to keep up with the splendor. Orange like fire rises parting the clouds and consuming the remnant. Darkness defeated, corners invaded. Chains falling off and hitting the ground, the sound of freedom beams from the Sun. Like a burning coal of a long flaming fire You rise over the horizon. I stare right at You and feel my retinas burn, marked by Your light. I am small. Still able to stand in the midst of such glory, how can that be? I am amazed, yet I know I should be even more so. Your fire burns, clears the sky, clouds flee, so does the enemy and the fog over my heart. I am restless now and I know I cannot stay here on level ground. I am moved and stirred, muscles ready to burst forth and propel me upward, to the heights.Your power ready to explode.
Today is Yours, and I am Yours. Everything is. Your name called the light into existence, and I become a faded memory, all I see is You. Let Your storm crash over me in power and shake me until all that remains is You in me. Let only that which comes from you be left standing.
I ask now boldly, Father show me Your heart. You declare over me "I am the great I AM". Yes You are, I cry, wonder struck, captivated. How can I be silent, my lungs are longing to cry out worship, voice waiting to cry Holy. All the hosts of heaven have beat me to it, and creation itself is groaning.
Take me higher, deeper, stir up reverence. Holy Spirit I am Yours. I am after Your heart. Complete death of flesh and utter abandonment of self is the only logical response. I am sold.
I can only imagine what the Prophet is seeing right now and I realize the joy of the Body, of being a part of a corporate Bride. This may be the first time I've said that and not felt tied to a dead corpse of 'the church'. For once that bond makes me feel alive, I see her eyes are transparent, she smiles freedom and so do I.
After breakfast we come together, this time as four. We pray for our day, for mountains to move, for miracles, for Your protection. One prays for those being persecuted and we cry out for our brothers and sisters being tortured. In power we stand in gap. Your Spirit has arrested our hearts and told us to pray. Moved by Your might we stand silent. Hearts in awe. Ready for the day now, confident we will see You.
Walking paths through trees, we walk in Him, completely unified and marred by Your beauty, we are fearless. Trees look like an army, limbs raised high in worship, calling out Your name. We walk righteous in Christ knowing our every step is established in Him. We walk as planted trees, rooted and abiding, the fruit is bursting and Your glory calls it out.
I ask for an eagle to fly overhead, knowing you hear my every prayer.
We stop abruptly at the beauty, the sight of You. Immovable mountain raised before our eyes. No one speaks because our hearts are stilled by Your majesty. An eagle soars over the mountain top and I am beside myself. My eyes well up with tears. Who can measure Your worth? I set my sights to the top of that mountain and I can see it, I imagine a mountain gazelle swiftly reaching unheard of places. I see the legs so steady and quick to reach those high places. I recall the Prophet reading Your Word to me, that I will have hinds feet and reach those high dangerous places, that You will make me able to walk up there. It all comes together and I weep. How can I be called higher, how can I go, I am so weak. But You have laid Your promises all around me so I will walk by faith.
Our faith releases power to move the mountains and I imagine that power being poured out of our hands. You give the picture of the mountain the rocks, the calloused hearts being broken by the seeds we plant. That as we sow into the kingdom the trees will grow and their roots will crack open the hardened hearts. Revival. I cannot help but feel now as one fighter in the army of God. Victory beats my heart and runs in my veins. I feel it rising. Again today, I am sold.
Love like wind blows, power. Love like the sparkling sea up ahead, extravagant. Love like the shocking cool water on our bare feet, refreshing. Love like the burning sun overhead, consuming fire. Love like the sail of the boat moving slowly, patience. Love like the immovable, strong rocks, it bears all things. Love like the eagle that flies overhead again, freedom.
In Your Presence is the fullness of joy. Every single moment of this day was absolutely filled with your power, your voice, your miracles. You were everywhere. You always are.
Tomorrow I will set my standards that high: to see You in everything I do. You are the objective of every action, the goal of every effort. You are the prize of every test. You are always that present. I open my heart, my eyes, my ears to You. Make yourself known.
You are the Great I AM, and I am Yours.
Martina Sobey
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Saturday, November 23, 2013
And Give Him No Rest
When I stand up I can feel the blood drain from my head to my feet and the room spins. My knees are shaking and the pins and needles cause me to wonder how long I was down. Maybe an hour, maybe only minutes. Likely minutes. It doesn't take long for nothing to be the same.
I saw him for the first time as a spirit today, not as a young man stranger, but as a small child spirit, lost. I see his grey garments and his eyes look the same way they looked when he was small, when his lip would quiver and his eyes would fill with tears. I remember when a bee stung his lip and his tears broke my heart and at 9 years old I could not hold my heart together if his was breaking. What has happened to my heart? Now that he looks stronger and speaks harsh words and frustrates my flesh have I lost all compassion? Why now does his broken heart not break mine?
I am suddenly overwhelmed with how small he is. I see him outside the walls of Zion and all his defenses are laid down, I see him now as the 3 year old child and my heart aches to remember it all. In his grey shorts and t-shirt I am suddenly so aware of the white garment I am clothed in. His aimless wandering, and hopeless stare is making my salvation beam and the contrast breaks my heart. The teenage hardened heart, and adolescent-anger fade away and I see now a broken child. Friendless, lifeless, Fatherless. How can this small boy, this little child be left alone here? Who walked away from him, what is he doing here all alone, it isn't safe! I am filled with questions and somewhere in my heart I know I am among those to blame for his helpless state. Maybe this guilt inside is what has manifested as physical heaviness keeping me on my knees for his soul. All I know is this is dangerous ground, a battlefield, and this child is defenseless. I hear those words again "I looked for a man who would build up the wall and stand before Me in the gap on behalf of the land.". Intercession.
I am brought back to last week when I myself felt like the small boy in grey. Your grace brought me back to the cross, my pride had swelled and you in all your mercy caused me to repent. The week of darkness opened my eyes again to the reality of your justice, your law, and your saving grace. How am I now clothed in glory when last week I felt so cast off, sinful, and unable to approach the throne. Now here I am boldly at the throne of grace where I cry out with a conviction and confidence that is entirely new, the result of an assurance that only comes from the blood of the Lamb. I feel now for certain that you brought me low to save me from my flesh, my pride, myself and you brought me low, tore me open, broke me down, so that you could raise me up to this new place where I can be heard by you, for him. All is grace. Your grace over me, and your grace over him, the small white haired boy.
I remember how I stood in the same place as him once too and you bring me back to the agony and the feelings of abandonment, feelings of utter disappointment, and loneliness. The same things that broke my heart and alienated me from any sense of family are his scars too. Am I so selfish and blind to the fact that he too has been ripped apart by the inadequacy of the world, the drawn out throbbing caused by divorce, and the loneliness of being tossed between two worlds, torn by the waves of inconsistency.Why have I failed to see that this boy I aged with is also broken hearted and scarred like me? Have I like everyone else let his mask fool me? He may be a better faker than me, but he too is deeply wounded.
I see now the shadow of a boy is wandering and the paths that surround him all look the same. They are all wide and grey. There is one path though that is golden light and narrow. The boy longs to go there, the golden light calls him. I am outraged to see a man in black seated at the fork in the road trying to cause the lost boy to take another way. I label the dark man as fear and I hate him. I come against him and the Name causes him to pack up and leave but he wanders still outside the gates. He waits to steal, kill and destroy this boy and I cannot sit still. Oh Great Shepherd, come in power! He wanders and prowls and sneaks around waiting to act. How will this boy ever survive?
If I, clothed in salvation and truth and grace, still get caught and fooled by the Adversary, if I in my white garment, aware of the armor I hold, still fall into darkness and defeat, how much more danger is the darkness to this boy? In the spirit I stand up before the throne, I cry out for his protection, for someone in heaven to stand guard on his behalf. I know until the boy enters the city gates he is not safe. His grey clothing does nothing to protect him and he doesn't know the Name that has the power to save. I am troubled now by his vulnerability and You know this, your purpose hits me like a punch in my gut. You confirm in the Book what has just happened in the Spirit.
"For Zion's sake I will not keep silent, and for Jerusalem's sake I will not be quiet, until her righteousness goes forth as brightness, and her salvation as a burning torch.... On your walls, O Jerusalem, I have set watchmen; all the day and all the night they shall never be silent. You who put the LORD in remembrance, take no rest, and give him no rest until he establishes Jerusalem and makes it a praise in the earth... And they shall be called The Holy People, The Redeemed of the LORD, Sought Out, A City Not Forsaken. Isaiah 62."
I tremble now at the throne. You brought me low, you lifted me up, and I open my eyes and see I am not the center. You open my eyes to the lost, the wanderers. And this small child, this precious boy, is now added to those entrusted to us who believe, and maybe only to me.
The immense responsibility feels like a burden that goes past my free will but I remember asking for this. For you to lay on my heart a burden for the lost and broken. I had no idea. I did not know the burden would be so real, so crippling, and that the lost would be someone in my own house. My child brother, my own blood. I have special authority here, I have been entrusted with much.
I will give you no rest Lord. You have bound the weight of his soul to mine, and for his sake I cannot be silent, until his salvation goes forth like a burning torch. I stand now in the gap, in the gap where the walls of Zion divide two kingdoms, the gap between the throne and the boy, darkness prowls for a while longer. I rest assured that The Day is coming and darkness will be thrown down into fire, but now, I stand guard. My weapons are mighty in you and this small boy is dead. I fight for his life with my own.
Rejoice oh my soul and have faith, this boy too will be met at the gates by the Shepherd, He will be called Sought Out. His salvation will burn like a torch. The Redeemed are crying out, the harvest is ready, and the intercessors are rising to fight for the advance of the Kingdom. Our hearts are marked by brokenness and we pray connected to the One who cries out continually on our behalf, the only One who really loves the golden haired boy enough to die for his soul.
Martina Sobey
I saw him for the first time as a spirit today, not as a young man stranger, but as a small child spirit, lost. I see his grey garments and his eyes look the same way they looked when he was small, when his lip would quiver and his eyes would fill with tears. I remember when a bee stung his lip and his tears broke my heart and at 9 years old I could not hold my heart together if his was breaking. What has happened to my heart? Now that he looks stronger and speaks harsh words and frustrates my flesh have I lost all compassion? Why now does his broken heart not break mine?
I am suddenly overwhelmed with how small he is. I see him outside the walls of Zion and all his defenses are laid down, I see him now as the 3 year old child and my heart aches to remember it all. In his grey shorts and t-shirt I am suddenly so aware of the white garment I am clothed in. His aimless wandering, and hopeless stare is making my salvation beam and the contrast breaks my heart. The teenage hardened heart, and adolescent-anger fade away and I see now a broken child. Friendless, lifeless, Fatherless. How can this small boy, this little child be left alone here? Who walked away from him, what is he doing here all alone, it isn't safe! I am filled with questions and somewhere in my heart I know I am among those to blame for his helpless state. Maybe this guilt inside is what has manifested as physical heaviness keeping me on my knees for his soul. All I know is this is dangerous ground, a battlefield, and this child is defenseless. I hear those words again "I looked for a man who would build up the wall and stand before Me in the gap on behalf of the land.". Intercession.
I am brought back to last week when I myself felt like the small boy in grey. Your grace brought me back to the cross, my pride had swelled and you in all your mercy caused me to repent. The week of darkness opened my eyes again to the reality of your justice, your law, and your saving grace. How am I now clothed in glory when last week I felt so cast off, sinful, and unable to approach the throne. Now here I am boldly at the throne of grace where I cry out with a conviction and confidence that is entirely new, the result of an assurance that only comes from the blood of the Lamb. I feel now for certain that you brought me low to save me from my flesh, my pride, myself and you brought me low, tore me open, broke me down, so that you could raise me up to this new place where I can be heard by you, for him. All is grace. Your grace over me, and your grace over him, the small white haired boy.
I remember how I stood in the same place as him once too and you bring me back to the agony and the feelings of abandonment, feelings of utter disappointment, and loneliness. The same things that broke my heart and alienated me from any sense of family are his scars too. Am I so selfish and blind to the fact that he too has been ripped apart by the inadequacy of the world, the drawn out throbbing caused by divorce, and the loneliness of being tossed between two worlds, torn by the waves of inconsistency.Why have I failed to see that this boy I aged with is also broken hearted and scarred like me? Have I like everyone else let his mask fool me? He may be a better faker than me, but he too is deeply wounded.
I see now the shadow of a boy is wandering and the paths that surround him all look the same. They are all wide and grey. There is one path though that is golden light and narrow. The boy longs to go there, the golden light calls him. I am outraged to see a man in black seated at the fork in the road trying to cause the lost boy to take another way. I label the dark man as fear and I hate him. I come against him and the Name causes him to pack up and leave but he wanders still outside the gates. He waits to steal, kill and destroy this boy and I cannot sit still. Oh Great Shepherd, come in power! He wanders and prowls and sneaks around waiting to act. How will this boy ever survive?
If I, clothed in salvation and truth and grace, still get caught and fooled by the Adversary, if I in my white garment, aware of the armor I hold, still fall into darkness and defeat, how much more danger is the darkness to this boy? In the spirit I stand up before the throne, I cry out for his protection, for someone in heaven to stand guard on his behalf. I know until the boy enters the city gates he is not safe. His grey clothing does nothing to protect him and he doesn't know the Name that has the power to save. I am troubled now by his vulnerability and You know this, your purpose hits me like a punch in my gut. You confirm in the Book what has just happened in the Spirit.
"For Zion's sake I will not keep silent, and for Jerusalem's sake I will not be quiet, until her righteousness goes forth as brightness, and her salvation as a burning torch.... On your walls, O Jerusalem, I have set watchmen; all the day and all the night they shall never be silent. You who put the LORD in remembrance, take no rest, and give him no rest until he establishes Jerusalem and makes it a praise in the earth... And they shall be called The Holy People, The Redeemed of the LORD, Sought Out, A City Not Forsaken. Isaiah 62."
I tremble now at the throne. You brought me low, you lifted me up, and I open my eyes and see I am not the center. You open my eyes to the lost, the wanderers. And this small child, this precious boy, is now added to those entrusted to us who believe, and maybe only to me.
The immense responsibility feels like a burden that goes past my free will but I remember asking for this. For you to lay on my heart a burden for the lost and broken. I had no idea. I did not know the burden would be so real, so crippling, and that the lost would be someone in my own house. My child brother, my own blood. I have special authority here, I have been entrusted with much.
I will give you no rest Lord. You have bound the weight of his soul to mine, and for his sake I cannot be silent, until his salvation goes forth like a burning torch. I stand now in the gap, in the gap where the walls of Zion divide two kingdoms, the gap between the throne and the boy, darkness prowls for a while longer. I rest assured that The Day is coming and darkness will be thrown down into fire, but now, I stand guard. My weapons are mighty in you and this small boy is dead. I fight for his life with my own.
Rejoice oh my soul and have faith, this boy too will be met at the gates by the Shepherd, He will be called Sought Out. His salvation will burn like a torch. The Redeemed are crying out, the harvest is ready, and the intercessors are rising to fight for the advance of the Kingdom. Our hearts are marked by brokenness and we pray connected to the One who cries out continually on our behalf, the only One who really loves the golden haired boy enough to die for his soul.
Martina Sobey
Monday, November 4, 2013
The Costland Cry
Standing on the shores of Charlottetown I have found a secret place. If I sit just over the bank, the rocks there are perfect chairs and the city is all around me, yet I am hidden. I am guaranteed now to meet Him here it seems, so I come here often. My obvious, yet hidden secret place. In the city, yet hidden in the cleft of the rock. I look out at the horizon where the sky and the ocean meet. Both are various shades of blue-grey. I whisper pray and feel Him asking me to lift my hands and declare His presence over this entire Island. I forget that people passing by may see a hand rising up over the bank. I am overwhelmed every time I come here by His beauty, His peace, and the way His grace crashes over me like the waves hitting the rocks. I let my feet dangle dangerously close to getting wet by the incoming sporadic waves. I am sure I feel the waves consuming me. They pull out the old self and she is taken out to sea. Each wave that hits the shore is another layer of my heart being washed by His grace. Wave after wave our city is being revived in Him.
I breathe You in, God and I can barely hold still, I feel You bursting inside of me. I pray again "Come and flood this place". Those words seem only to hold more power each time I say them. I marvel at how my life can even be used by you, and how you yourself have made me into something that you can overtake and possess. A vessel in your hands. I was cast off, rebellious, broken, dirty, and dark. Your arms pulled me in tenderly and your strength alone upholds me here before your throne where I can murmur a few words for my city. I feel so small before you, so utterly small, yet somehow you have built up my walls, I feel that my prayers are actually loosing something over this place. What if we all gathered, small before you, and asked you to flood this place like a storm?
I day dream about an army standing on the shores, broken people undone before the King, crying out for His Kingdom to invade the cost lands. They are rising up. I shout across the shores "Wake up!" I feel your people coming out of hiding to intercede for the nations. We will call them to come home. There is an army rising up. Banners wave in the sky as people choose who they are going to serve.
I am reminded of a few months ago when you asked me to raise a banner over my household, to take spiritual authority and to raise a banner that blows in the wind and waves the name of Jesus over our home. I remember when you asked me to symbolically raise up that banner, to declare the authority of Christ over our roof, and to watch salvation fall in our home. I did it, not fully understanding what it meant, and yet to see the fulfillment, it too is coming up over the shores in the waves.
Now looking over the land at the rooftops and I can almost see it with my physical eye, but more so in my spirit, red flags raised up over chosen homes that say Jesus is Lord. Red-marked by His blood, His Kingship. I call out ask say "Lift up your banners! Let His name be your strength. Let Him mark you for battle." So that's what this is. It is preparation for battle. I feel like a race horse being kept back behind a bar, waiting for the gunshot so all my stored energy can spur me forth, a freedom fighter. He strips away all the armor I thought I would need, He tells me to let go. Freedom is the armor needed for the battle of the Lord. Here on these rocks, downtown, people passing by, He has taken me away to discuss the battle, to prepare me, to wash over me with grace. Why would I ever want to be anywhere else, and how in the world am I meeting with God. Who am I that He should even be mindful of me? Yet I feel what He is showing me is that we are not nothing, we are actually His instruments and until we see ourselves as Precious to Him we cannot be used in battle. We are actually sons and daughters of the King. How is that even possible. Heaven cries out, voices declaring the worth of the Lamb. It is all about Him. That truth goes deeper and my eyes well up with tears of reverence. Two years ago I would have been bored at the name of Jesus, broken hearted, I wouldn't have thought of Him once a week. How can it be that He now consumes my every thought. He is unrelenting. An hour of meaningless thought and I am homesick. He told me something about this, that I can only love Him in response to how aware I am that He loves me. His love for me is what compels me to love Him back. He first loved us. So my heart cries "I love you", but my souls sings and I rejoice knowing that the Uncreated God said it first. Jesus the Bridegroom said I love you first. I change my I love you, to an I love you too. How humbling, and freeing, I love Him more now than before only because I see how much He loves us as His children.
I look one last time at the water and like the waves against the shore His love has moved deeper into my heart yet again. Refreshing cool, healing salt water. As I stand I say, "Come Lord Jesus come" .
Revival is coming, like a wave over our cost lands, like a tidal wave. First comes the healing oil, then comes the Kingdom. Our island will be shaken until only that which cannot be shaken remains. I see depression rates declining, empty hospital beds, churches become the place of healing, the name of Jesus will bring people of every age to tears, reverence and worship will pour out of our mouths and we will be sent out to bring the broken nations home to their First Love. PEI will be a place for the lost to be found, a place for the orphans to be loved, for the widows to be restored. Let us rise up, anointed by God, and proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.
Martina Sobey
I breathe You in, God and I can barely hold still, I feel You bursting inside of me. I pray again "Come and flood this place". Those words seem only to hold more power each time I say them. I marvel at how my life can even be used by you, and how you yourself have made me into something that you can overtake and possess. A vessel in your hands. I was cast off, rebellious, broken, dirty, and dark. Your arms pulled me in tenderly and your strength alone upholds me here before your throne where I can murmur a few words for my city. I feel so small before you, so utterly small, yet somehow you have built up my walls, I feel that my prayers are actually loosing something over this place. What if we all gathered, small before you, and asked you to flood this place like a storm?
I day dream about an army standing on the shores, broken people undone before the King, crying out for His Kingdom to invade the cost lands. They are rising up. I shout across the shores "Wake up!" I feel your people coming out of hiding to intercede for the nations. We will call them to come home. There is an army rising up. Banners wave in the sky as people choose who they are going to serve.
I am reminded of a few months ago when you asked me to raise a banner over my household, to take spiritual authority and to raise a banner that blows in the wind and waves the name of Jesus over our home. I remember when you asked me to symbolically raise up that banner, to declare the authority of Christ over our roof, and to watch salvation fall in our home. I did it, not fully understanding what it meant, and yet to see the fulfillment, it too is coming up over the shores in the waves.
Now looking over the land at the rooftops and I can almost see it with my physical eye, but more so in my spirit, red flags raised up over chosen homes that say Jesus is Lord. Red-marked by His blood, His Kingship. I call out ask say "Lift up your banners! Let His name be your strength. Let Him mark you for battle." So that's what this is. It is preparation for battle. I feel like a race horse being kept back behind a bar, waiting for the gunshot so all my stored energy can spur me forth, a freedom fighter. He strips away all the armor I thought I would need, He tells me to let go. Freedom is the armor needed for the battle of the Lord. Here on these rocks, downtown, people passing by, He has taken me away to discuss the battle, to prepare me, to wash over me with grace. Why would I ever want to be anywhere else, and how in the world am I meeting with God. Who am I that He should even be mindful of me? Yet I feel what He is showing me is that we are not nothing, we are actually His instruments and until we see ourselves as Precious to Him we cannot be used in battle. We are actually sons and daughters of the King. How is that even possible. Heaven cries out, voices declaring the worth of the Lamb. It is all about Him. That truth goes deeper and my eyes well up with tears of reverence. Two years ago I would have been bored at the name of Jesus, broken hearted, I wouldn't have thought of Him once a week. How can it be that He now consumes my every thought. He is unrelenting. An hour of meaningless thought and I am homesick. He told me something about this, that I can only love Him in response to how aware I am that He loves me. His love for me is what compels me to love Him back. He first loved us. So my heart cries "I love you", but my souls sings and I rejoice knowing that the Uncreated God said it first. Jesus the Bridegroom said I love you first. I change my I love you, to an I love you too. How humbling, and freeing, I love Him more now than before only because I see how much He loves us as His children.
I look one last time at the water and like the waves against the shore His love has moved deeper into my heart yet again. Refreshing cool, healing salt water. As I stand I say, "Come Lord Jesus come" .
Revival is coming, like a wave over our cost lands, like a tidal wave. First comes the healing oil, then comes the Kingdom. Our island will be shaken until only that which cannot be shaken remains. I see depression rates declining, empty hospital beds, churches become the place of healing, the name of Jesus will bring people of every age to tears, reverence and worship will pour out of our mouths and we will be sent out to bring the broken nations home to their First Love. PEI will be a place for the lost to be found, a place for the orphans to be loved, for the widows to be restored. Let us rise up, anointed by God, and proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.
Martina Sobey
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