When the word of God comes a 2nd time

I thoroughly enjoy the story of Jonah. It’s not just about the extraordinary fish or the image of the prophet staggering onto the beach, his skin potentially bleached white by digestive acids, and proclaiming his astonishing prophecy that, in a way, never transpired: “Yet 40 days!”

It’s a significant encouragement for prophetic ministry in our day. Perhaps the message of Jonah is radical for today, especially given the rage of the nations, the wars, rumours of wars, and all the other apocalyptic rumblings that leave us second-guessing our place and role in history.

Abundant grace

You’ll see where I’m going with this shortly, but in the story of Jonah, we do not see a God of mere chances, but rather a God abundant in grace. This account is a vivid drama of human disobedience, divine mercy, and profound transformation.

From Jonah’s initial defiance against God’s directive, through an unparalleled experience within a great fish, to his eventual journey to Nineveh, a city beyond the customary reach of Israel, a critical, profound, and stirring message emerges: God’s merciful reach knows no bounds, whether geographical, cultural, or related to stubborn human will. God is not like us, and we are not like God. In this narrative, a prophet waits for a people to be destroyed, while God waits for them to be spared.

Jonah’s encounter urges us to rise above our cultural biases, moral superiority, and apparent privilege, underlining the universality of God’s redeeming love. This love, like a giant, heavy blanket thrown over all who gather before Him, summons everyone to repentance, bestowing reconciliation through grace, not just offering second chances. The story resonates deeply with us if we dare to see ourselves in it—it’s a tale of unending grace, even amidst adversity, revealing the depths of God’s kindness.

Growing in intimacy

Today’s prophets must embrace an encounter of intimacy with God that goes beyond mere knowledge of the Lord, delving into a profound understanding of His justice, mercy, and immense, incomprehensible, immeasurable compassion. This grace and compassion isn’t merely a truth desperately in need of an audience in our war-torn, troublesome, postmodern, innocence-poisoned era; it’s an eternal truth, transcending our individual ‘realities’ that are but myths of the imagination.

A key can lie for ever in the place where the locksmith left it, and never be used to open the lock the master forged it for.—Ludwig Wittgenstein

Observing Jonah from our places of Western security and safety, one cannot help but seek and find encouragement where possible and ponder the nature of God’s word, which reaches us not just once, but sometimes a second time. We don’t always deserve to hear God a second time, but we often do, and frequently. This theme resonates through the lives and scriptural narratives of individuals far greater in character, gifting, and anointing in far-flung history.

It also vibrates at the very core of our contemporary journey of faith and obedience. God is speaking, calling and reaching out to His Church. Angels will find it an awesome thing to witness. This cherished, divine echo, a second whisper, is not merely a repetition; it’s an amplification, a further revelation—an invitation to understand the heart of God more deeply and, perhaps, to reconcile with a purpose we have either misunderstood or openly resisted.

God speaks, a second time

Jonah, the prophet who’s more renowned for his sojourn in the belly of a great fish, presents a narrative far more complex and comforting than often preached from the pulpits. The Word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time (Jonah 3:1), not after a period of success, but following moments of intense resistance, despair, and what can be described as a profound existential confrontation within the confines of a maritime creature. It was a literal and metaphorical darkness. Yet, the Word came again, a second time.

It’s not a solitary incident within the expansive narrative of God found in our Bibles. Elijah, exhausted and discouraged, hid himself away in the cave at Horeb; he had been zealous for the Lord, yet felt utterly isolated and defeated (1 Kings 19:9-18).

The cave man

It was in the cave, in the aftermath of a violent wind, an earthquake, and fire, that the voice of the Lord came anew in a low whisper, a gentle sound. At the mouth of the cave, Elijah heard God again, not in the grandiose, but in the intense quietness of the wilderness—an imperative message for today’s prophets who may feel their sensitivity to God’s whisper has been drowned out by the 70db cacophony of television and media, life, or the discouraging silence of their own spiritual deserts, created at times by their own choices.

Personally, I’m anxious about what I see and hear in some church quarters, perhaps selfishly, because it also affects me. Today, many mature believers, rich in experience, wisdom, and genuine calling, feel sidelined due to the twilight of their years. In a culture that often elevates youth, innovation, and newness, the church has, at times, neglected the very vessels seasoned by trials, time, and testimony.

Yes, we have to pass the baton on, but scripture features many individuals who are long in the tooth, growing older every day, just as we all are. Some of our key assets in the kingdom are those who have enough time ahead of them to plant churches, lead evangelistic teams, and preach powerful sermons with fiery conviction.

Rising to our challenge

The God who speaks again with renewed calls isn’t seeking the vigour of youth but the faithfulness of heart—a heart poised to receive and ready to act, whether in the vibrancy of youth or the reflection of older years. It would be prudent for us to consider that the answer to some of the needs we have in the church today for leaders (and let’s acknowledge our need for vibrant, Christ-exalting, Spirit-led visionary leadership) is found in and among those to whom the Word of God has come a second time.

I was distracted there; the issue at hand is prophetic ministry, recovering, being reinvigorated to hear God’s voice that graciously comes again and again. However, it seems to me the issues can merge. God has a great purpose for all of us, and it is fitting that we encourage each other to do everything as unto the Lord, and that may mean giving opportunities where we can. Character issues are another matter, and that is where godly leaders come in.

Returning to prophecy, away from Jonah and Elijah, consider the apostle Paul’s encouragement to the Corinthians: “So, my brothers, earnestly desire to prophesy…” (1 Corinthians 14:39). This eagerness is not the pursuit of novelty, but an earnest search for the deep things of God; a heart yearning to edify, encourage, and comfort (1 Corinthians 14:3). In a generation where ‘my own truth’ voices abound, and where the prophetic can be misconstrued as mere prediction or personal elevation, the second call – much like that for Jonah and Elijah – often leads directly to the heart of God’s compassion, justice, and remarkable redemptive plan.

Be encouraged – God is not silent

God’s providence, His extraordinary capacity to bestow favour in famine, light in the deepest darkness, and a way in the wilderness, is as true today as it was in the days of the scriptures. Let your heart be taken hostage by the assertion of Romans 8:28: “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”

There will be obstacles, both human and demonic, but God will laugh at them both and prevail. God will speak a second time. Wake up, cheer up, chin up. Things may seem difficult, but the ‘omnis’ of God are insurmountable – omnipotence, omnipresence, and omniscience. These set God in a place of indomitable power and Lordship. He has the knowledge, power, and presence to do all he wants to, and nothing, no one can withstand Him. Not even…

Our vision can be myopic, and our understanding may seem limited, but the challenge is seen in football legend Lionel Messi, who might appear to wander aimlessly with his gaze downcast, yet he has an inherent awareness of the play around him. When the ball finds him, there’s purpose and precision. He knows where he is, where others are, and a goal is imminent. In our walks, the ball is God’s will, His word — it may come once, it may come again, but it always requires our response, our movement in faith.

In moments of divine silence, when God seems to be saying nothing, we’re offered an intimate space for reflection, an Elijah-esque cave experience where the absence of noise reveals the profound presence of God. Sometimes, it’s not about what God is saying, but what He’s doing within us, the character He’s forging, the trust He’s cultivating, as we navigate the football pitch of life with our hearts attuned to His slightest whisper.

God speaks a second time. Not in noise, hype and flashing lights, but He does speak. Prophets know not just how to listen, but how to hear.

To the discouraged prophets, the sidelined servants, the questioning hearts: the Word that comes a second time is no less powerful, no less drenched in love, than it was the first. It’s an invitation to see afresh, to listen anew, to respond with the wisdom that has been forged in the fires of past trials and the assurance that His purposes prevail, even when our plans falter. Set your gaze upon Him, with a periphery vision that’s attuned to His presence and providence.

And if you are a prophet, you’ll know what I mean.

Amos 5:13

Wading through the depths of the agony that streaks across our world—from the sky lit by rockets above Israel to the silent villages of Ukraine, now punctuated by the violence of invasion, and further still to every corner where the earth trembles and economies crumble—the words from Amos 5:13 linger in the air: “Therefore he who is prudent will keep silent in such a time, for it is an evil time.”

What does it mean for us, in our noisy, pain-stricken world, to encounter these ancient words? To sit with them, to allow them to speak into our time of global turmoil? It certainly means for us, to respond with caution, and with faith not fear. Easily said.

Amos, a shepherd turned prophet, speaks across centuries, prompting us to peer into the suffering and chaos we see in this day and ask: Where is God in this? How does God move, weep, and act amidst our collective pain and chaos?

The Church, this vast network of believers, is heralded as God’s own envoy, His ekklēsía, the people called out to display God’s character to the world. It’s a community not immune to suffering but rather defined and refined by it, offering a glimpse of God’s redeeming presence amidst our circumstances and perplexity.

The Church, as envisioned by God, stands resolutely as a beacon amidst the chaos

The church is like a lighthouse, steadfast amidst the stormy seas, providing a glimmer of hope, guidance, and safe harbour to those tossed about by life’s tempests. The Church, as envisioned by God, stands resolutely as a beacon amidst the chaos, reflecting the divine light of love, justice, and transformative power of the gospel amidst the dark tides of despair and suffering.

Simply put, the Church is God’s hands and feet in a hurting world, a people that only speak of love and justice but where we act it out, tangibly and practically.

Consider the story of the Good Samaritan. It’s about a man who, instead of walking by someone suffering, gets down in the dirt with them, tends to their wounds, and ensures they are cared for. The Church is called to be a collective of Good Samaritans, seeing the pain of the world and responding with genuine, selfless love and action. And we do that well.

In moments of crisis, silence might be the first step, not of withdrawal, but of true empathy and thoughtful action. This silence is not about turning away but instead, it’s about pausing, truly seeing the pain and suffering around us, and allowing it to shape our actions and responses. It’s a deep seated empathy clothed in prayer, acts of kindess, friendship, food and hope.

Martin Luther King Jr., a man deeply acquainted with suffering and struggle, once remarked, “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” The Church must ensure that any silence is not one of abandonment, but one that leads to meaningful, supportive action amidst the world’s pain. Amos perhaps implied, think before you act or speak – but do respond.

Amos doesn’t simply challenge us to reflect on where God is amidst suffering but compels the Church to be a vessel through which God’s presence is tangibly felt in the world, especially in places marred by conflict, disaster, and despair.

The Church, reflecting the heart of God, is summoned to be a source of comfort, healing, and hope

Think of the Church as a compassionate neighbour in a time of need, offering a listening ear, a helping hand, and a heart that seeks justice and well-being for all. Whether in the traumatised regions of the Middle East, the war-torn communities of Ukraine, or any place where creation and its inhabitants groan in pain, the Church is called to be an embodiment of God’s love and solidarity, standing firmly with and for those who suffer.

The Church, reflecting the heart of God, is summoned to be a source of comfort, healing, and hope amidst the world’s aching landscapes. We’re called to be a manifestation of love that both silently weeps with those who weep and speaks with action and truth, echoing God’s insatiable desire for justice, reconciliation, and renewal in our broken, yet infinitely loved world, but the hallmark is that in all circumstances, we are a people of prayer.

Our conviction, deeply rooted, is that God not only hears and answers prayer, but that He also wants to hear our cries to Him for help, assistance and intervention. The answers to those things always evokes praise and worship from our grateful hearts.