Re-engaging the gifts!

I know no-one asked my opinion but..

group of construction workers constructing house

There’s a kind of slow, almost unperceivable drift that happens in the Church, not with flags waving or heresy shouted from the pulpit, but with a quiet settling of the soul.

It’s similar to the subtle way that icons or colours are changed incrementally and imperceptibly on our digital devices. We look around and say, “This is good.” The worship’s heartfelt. The preaching is strong. There’s prayer, friendship and fellowship, and decent coffee in the hospitality area, and without noticing, we start to believe we’ve sort of arrived, nailed it.

We wouldn’t say it aloud, but in some churches there has come a point where we begin to tolerate the absence of the gifts of the Spirit, and where once necessary, they are now something we go easy on, something we can take or leave.

We’ve got structure, after all. Programmes. Rotas. Systems. Momentum. But the Spirit wasn’t poured out at Pentecost to give us better events. He came to build a living, breathing Church, powerful, prophetic, and prepared for praise, worship, adventure and battle. When we trade the Spirit’s gifts for the comfort of familiarity, we don’t just lose fire, we lose function, and become spectators.

Paul’s words to the Corinthians still stand like a hammer on the charismatic conscience: “To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good” (1 Corinthians 12:7). That’s not a theory – it’s a command. Each one. Every believer. Not just the bold. Not just the leaders. The Spirit gives gifts to build the house. But some are standing by while the timbers are raised, content to watch rather than work.

In Corinthians, Paul is preaching to the choir. Gifts of the Spirit are in evidence everywhere, and it seems that Paul is urging them to calm down a little, bring in some sense of order (not control) to let others have some room to step out and into their Spirit-endowed gifting – everyone can play (as John Wimber would say). Hand-holding with the gifts is the perfect start point as tentative steps are taken. What’s God saying to you, showing, empowering, stirring… for others? Not sure – have you asked?

Look at the Mennonites or the Amish. I’ve seen them on the Discovery Channel; When a new barn goes up, no one from their community sits on the fence with folded arms. Everyone has a role. They are on it. Young, old, men or women, skilled or learning, they bring what they have. Muscle. Experience. Encouragement and cups of tea by the gallon.

And the barn, house, building rises—not because of a few, but because of the many.

It’s not flashy. It’s not for show. It’s a testimony to unity, love and shared purpose. The Church is meant to function the same. Every gift. Every believer. Engaged.

But, and you knew there would be one, there is a problem – at times we can become passive. Some of it is fear. Some of it pride. But a good deal is simply spiritual <cough!> ‘laziness’, dressed up in Sunday best, church clothes.

We say, “I’m waiting on the Lord,” but truth be told, sometimes we’re just avoiding risk. We fear stepping out, afraid we’ll look foolish or get it wrong or that someone guarding the microphone may send us on the imaginary walk of shame or pain back to our chair.

So we choose to play it safe.

We pray in private, we nod in meetings, but skip prophecy. Rarely lay hands on the sick. Probably never expect, trust or hope for the miraculous. And the result? The Church starves while the gifts gather dust.

Don’t mistake order for life. Bones rattling in the valley of dry bones without the breath of the Spirit are still just a valley of dry bones. A well-run church without the Spirit is like a beautiful barn with no animals – tidy, but empty.

The Spirit doesn’t come to decorate but to empower. He gives the gift of faith to move mountains. He brings the working of miracles to break chains. He ignites prophecy to reveal the heart, kindness, calling and intervention of God. These aren’t mere distractions. They’re the means by which Christ is made known and, in the face of adversity and hostility, builds a breath-taking, glorious, nation-impacting, breakthrough Church.

When we neglect the gifts, we don’t just rob ourselves. We rob the Body. Someone really needed your encouragement—me at least! Someone needed your word – me again! Someone needed your faith when theirs was failing, and instead… they got silence. This isn’t about hype. It’s about holiness. It’s about life, love and obedience.

So perhaps it’s time to fast and pray for the return of the juggernaut, mountain-moving, life-transforming, encouraging and inspiring gifts of the Spirit. Not for a show, but for a shaking. Not to perform, but to participate.

The Church doesn’t need more polish, beeswax, smoke machines. It needs power, and the Spirit is ready, available. Heaven is heaving with the weight of the gifts that are readily available. The only question left is whether you’ll leave your seat, pick up your tools – those magnificent gifts – and join Him in the building.

Seriously, step out in faith – the Church and the host of heaven, are rooting for you.

When God sends… a raven?

You can't cook a raven!

You can’t cook and eat it. The law said so.

You can't cook a raven!There are moments in the life of a prophetic person that feel more like survival than calling. Seasons where the fire of Mount Carmel feels like a distant echo and all that’s left is the dry, weary land of disappointment. The image here captures one such moment… in the wilderness, alone, dusty, worn. And yet, not abandoned. A raven stands before him, bread and meat in its beak, a strange provision from a faithful God. It’s a scene lifted straight from 1 Kings 17. But it’s more than a memory. It’s a mirror.

So, flick over to 1 Kings 17 on your phone. Elijah – not the man in the picture, the prophet of fire, had just delivered a hard word to King Ahab: no rain, not even dew, until he said so. It was a pronouncement that brought the weight of judgment, and with it, danger.

God did not leave him to face the fallout alone. Instead, He led Elijah eastward, away from the spotlight, to a brook called Cherith. “You shall drink from the brook, and I have commanded the ravens to feed you there” (1 Kings 17:4). That’s not a metaphor. God literally sent scavenger birds, ceremonially unclean by the standards of the law, to deliver meat and bread morning and evening. It was not logical, but it was divine.

It’s important to note that God didn’t send Elijah into the wilderness as punishment. He sent him there for preservation. The prophet was being hidden, yes, but he was also being fed. Cherith was not exile, neither was it ‘cherishing’. It was preparation. There, by the brook, the prophet who had spoken the word had to now learn to live by the word. To receive daily sustenance from the hand of God, even when it came in the beak of a raven.

It was, “Our Father, who is in Heaven…” stuff.

There’s a lesson here for every discouraged voice who once burned with vision but now sits in silence, wondering if the brook has dried up. Is this you? Maybe you’ve spoken hard truth and found yourself suddenly unwelcome. Even if this is just your own perception – not the truth. Maybe your obedience led not to acclaim, but obscurity. Here’s a small morsel of encouragement; the wilderness is not the end of the road. It’s where God shapes those He sends.

God’s provision doesn’t always come wrapped in glory. Sometimes it comes through ravens. Not what you expected. Sometimes it’s through a stranger’s kindness, an unexpected word of encouragement from someone at Church, or a verse that lands like fresh water on parched lips. His methods may unsettle us, but His faithfulness never fails. It’s always, ‘locked and loaded.’ Elijah, like you, wasn’t disqualified by his isolation. He was refined in it. And the same is true today – for you. The wilderness doesn’t cancel your calling. It clarifies it. It’s a bit like polishing a precious stone on a ring.

The gospel story echoes the same rhythm, pierces the darkness of discouragement, puts words, colour and picture into the cultural rap of every generation. It’s not about ‘something’, its about someone; Hero, champion of time and eternity who also withdrew Himself to desolate places to pray. He faced hunger, temptation, betrayal. Yet in every moment, the Father sustained Him. And now, through the Spirit, He sustains us. Not always with excess, but always with enough.

To the prophetic voices wherever you sit on Sunday, and whatever church gathering you with, who feel side-lined or forgotten, take heart. If God could command ravens to feed His servant, He can reach you where you are. He knows your GPS location. Your strength may be failing, but His mercies are new every morning. Your brook may dry up, but the Source does not, and even in the silence, you are being shaped for what comes next.

Elijah’s story didn’t end at the brook. After Cherith came Zarephath. After Zarephath came Carmel. And after Carmel, a still small voice in a cave that would call him back again.

Don’t despise the raven or the wilderness. God is still providing, and the God who fed Elijah in secret will empower you in public, in His time.