Tag Archives: presence of God

Annointing

The Fragrance of the Anointing

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“Therefore God, Your God, has anointed You with the oil of joy above Your companions. All Your robes are fragrant with myrrh and aloes and cassia.”
— Psalm 45:7–8 AMP

Truth, when given in love, may crack the jar—but it releases the fragrance of Christ.

Beloved, do you not feel it stirring even now? The scent of something ancient, yet living. Something sacred, yet near. The Fragrance of the Anointing is not of this world. It is not conjured or copied. It descends. It rests. It fills. And it reveals the presence of the Holy One among His people. It is the witness of the Spirit that Christ, the Anointed One, has come and now dwells in the hearts of those who are fully His.

When Mary broke the alabaster jar and poured it out on the feet of Yeshua, the house was filled with fragrance. But it was not only the perfume—it was worship. It was love that could not be restrained. That same fragrance rises again whenever a soul is crushed in surrender and offered in joy. The anointing always smells like love.

Beloved, the anointing oil was not made of random spices. It was myrrh, bitter and prophetic. It was cinnamon and cassia, warm and royal. It was olive oil, crushed and pressed. Every ingredient whispered the story of the Cross before Golgotha was ever seen. When the priests were anointed, it was not to entertain. It was to minister in the presence of a holy God. That oil marked them. It set them apart. And it carried a fragrance that spoke to everyone around them—God has touched this man. God has consecrated this woman.

That same Spirit, Beloved, now rests upon us. Not in part. Not in shadow. But in fire and fullness. “They were all filled with the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2:4). All. Not a few. Not the leaders only. Every hungry heart received. The room shook. Tongues burst forth. But more than signs and wonders, there was a fragrance—a nearness of God that no words could contain.

Stephen, full of the Spirit, gazed into Heaven. Peter, filled with the Spirit, preached with fire and compassion. Paul, overflowing with the Spirit, wrote of the aroma of Christ, saying, “We are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing” (Second Corinthians 2:15 NASB). This is not a metaphor. It is reality. When the Spirit dwells within you, the air around you shifts. Heaven walks into the room.

Beloved, you cannot hide the fragrance of the anointing. It will find its way through every crack and crevice. A brother once tried. He had prayed, surrendered, and the Spirit had filled him. But he resolved to keep silent. Three days passed. His wife touched his arm and said, “What happened to you?” And he broke. His testimony flowed like living water. The fragrance could not be caged. God had filled him, and his life would never be the same.

This is the promise: “You have an anointing from the Holy One” (First John 2:20). And again, “The anointing you received from Him abides in you” (First John 2:27). Not visits. Abides. He remains with those who host Him in humility and love.

What does this fragrance bring, Beloved?

It brings boldness, for the Spirit fills the mouth with the testimony of Jesus.
It brings joy, for the oil of gladness overflows even in trial.
It brings purity, for the presence of God burns away all that does not please Him.
It brings love, for God is love, and He cannot anoint what He does not indwell.
It brings fruit, not manufactured by effort but born through abiding.

This fragrance is the sign of a consecrated life. It cannot be fabricated. It cannot be downloaded or choreographed. It comes only when the vessel is emptied, cleansed, and offered to God without reservation.

O Church, how long will we settle for strategies without presence? How long will we offer light shows when God desires light-filled hearts? We were never called to entertain the lost—we are called to carry the presence of the Living God. Only the fragrance of the anointing can awaken a sleeping world.

She broke her jar—and with it, her pride, her plans, her past. Only in surrender can the fragrance rise. This is where healing begins.

Mary broke her jar. Will you break yours? Will you open your heart so fully that nothing is held back? Will you welcome the Holy Spirit not as a guest, but as your King? The oil only flows where the altar is built. And altars are built with sacrifice.

You say, “What must I do to walk in this anointing?”

Beloved:

  • Consecrate your heart. Let every hidden sin be confessed. Let every idol be torn down. Holiness is not optional. It is the soil in which the anointing grows.
  • Ask and wait. He is not reluctant. “How much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him?” (Luke 11:13). Ask. And keep asking.
  • Abide in the Word. The Spirit loves the Word. He wrote it. Let it wash you, shape you, and fill your prayers.
  • Obey quickly. The Spirit’s voice is gentle but sure. The anointed do not delay when He calls.
  • Worship always. Not just with music, but with life. Let every breath declare His worth.

Then, Beloved, the fragrance will come. You will not need to announce yourself. God will announce Himself through you. Rooms will be filled. Hearts will be stirred. Christ will be glorified.

Let the fragrance rise.
Lord, I bring my broken jar
Let it pour upon Your feet
Let the house be filled again
With the scent of love complete

Set me apart for joy and flame
Let my life become the sign
That the Spirit rests on man again
And the oil still flows divine

Closing Prayer

Abba, pour the oil of gladness on Your people once more. Let every weary soul be filled. Let every surrendered heart carry the fragrance of Christ. Anoint us to speak with boldness, to love without fear, and to worship without restraint. Let our churches be filled with Your presence and our cities with Your praise. May the oil never stop flowing. In the name of Yeshua our Messiah, amen.

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See Also

Apostolic Prophetic

Break the Box

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Return to Me

To My Church, whom I purchased with My own blood:

I love you.
With a love stronger than death.
I have never left you. Even when you built without Me, I remained near.
Even when you organized Me out, I stood at the door and waited.
I have watched every gathering, every song, every schedule.
I know your labor, your love for the lost, your good intentions.
I have seen your heart—and I love you still.

But now I speak—not just in comfort, but in clarity.

You have boxed Me in.

You have created systems to keep things safe.
You have guarded the order, protected the time of leadership, and honed the rhythms of ministry until they flow without Me.

You pray for Me to move, but only in ways that match what you’ve built.
You ask for wisdom, but filter My answer through the language of your traditions.
You hunger for revival, but only if it comes wrapped in the familiar.

Beloved, I cannot be reduced. I will not be managed.
You were made for My presence, not just My principles.
You were born of fire. But now you settle for form.

And when I send someone—one carrying the water you cried for—they are met with silence.
They do not want position.
They did not come to join your program.
They came bearing My Word.
Yet you say:
“Already saved, not here to join, no place here.”

So they pretend to be visitors just to receive attention,
because if they don’t fit your structure, your defenses rise to protect your flow.

And I weep.

Not in anger, but in grief—because I came to you through them, and you did not recognize Me.

But even now, I speak as a Father: Break the Box.

Tear down what you’ve built in your own strength.
Not all of it must go—but all of it must bow.

Welcome again the voice of the Shepherd.
Welcome the messengers I send, even when they do not wear your badge.
Welcome the apostolic voice that rebuilds from ruins.
Welcome the prophetic cry that stirs holy discomfort.
Welcome the evangelistic fire that won’t settle for numbers.
Welcome the pastoral heart that bleeds for healing, not performance.
Welcome the teaching wellspring that flows from Spirit and truth.

Let the fivefold gifts not compete, but complete one another—for the building up of My Body in love.

You say, “But Lord, we only wanted to do things decently and in order.”
I reply: My order begins with Me at the center, not on the sidelines.

You say, “But this is what worked in the past.”
I reply: I am doing a new thing. Will you perceive it?

You say, “But we are still preaching the Word.”
I reply: You quote Me, but do you wait for Me?

Beloved, this is not My anger.
This is My jealous love.
I will not let you drift into lifeless motion when I died to give you abundant life.
I will not allow My Bride to settle for form when she was made for flame.

So I stand outside.
I knock.
I wait.
And I whisper: “Let Me in again.”

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in…” (Revelation 3:20, NASB)

Break the box. Open the door. I’m still here.

I love you too much to leave you as you are.

Signed,
The One who walks among the lampstands,
who calls you by name, and who will finish what He began in you.

See Also

Holy Spirit, Power

Fire Shut Up in My Bones

A Holy Fire That Cannot Be Contained

Beloved, there is a fire that does not come from man. It cannot be stirred up by music or forced by emotion. It descends from heaven. It rests on those who tremble at the Word. It burns in the soul of those who have seen the face of God and cannot remain silent. It is the fire shut up in the bones.

The prophet Jeremiah cried out in anguish, “But if I say, ‘I will not remember Him or speak anymore in His name,’ then my heart becomes a burning fire shut up in my bones; and I am tired of holding it in, and I cannot endure it” (Jeremiah 20:9, NASB). This was not the complaint of a man seeking attention. This was the groan of one possessed by the Word of the Lord. The message was not something he carried—it carried him.

When the Spirit of God dwells in you, He does not come to sit quietly. He comes with flame. He comes with weight. He is not an accessory to your life—He is your life. “In Him we live and move and exist” (Acts 17:28, NASB). If He does not breathe into us, we are dust. If He does not speak, we are lost. If He does not move, we are powerless. We are utterly dependent on Him for all things.

This holy fire reveals our nothingness apart from Him and fills us with the fullness of His presence. And oh, the joy of knowing we are His! Not because we are strong, but because He is faithful. Not because we are worthy, but because He is rich in mercy.

The Power of the Word

And when that fire takes hold of you, you cannot help but overflow.

Like David, who cried, “My heart was hot within me, while I was musing the fire burned; then I spoke with my tongue” (Psalm 39:3, NASB), you will not contain the praise. The praise will contain you. Like the apostles, who declared, “We cannot stop speaking about what we have seen and heard” (Acts 4:20, NASB), your life will become a living testimony. Not because you try to evangelize—but because the flame in you draws the cold and the broken near.

Unbelievers will be pulled by the light. They will ask, “What is this joy that burns in you? What is this peace that does not flicker? What is this love that consumes fear?” And you will tell them: It is Yeshua, the Lamb who was slain and now reigns in glory. He set me ablaze. He is my fire, my breath, my song.

This fire is not a passing feeling. It is not a temporary high. It is the mark of those who have been with Jesus. It is the seal of those who are crucified with Him and yet live—not they themselves, but Messiah in them. (Galatians 2:20)

When God sets you on fire, you will burn with love that intercedes, with truth that pierces, and with mercy that welcomes. You will long not only to dwell in the secret place but to call others into it. The fire in your bones is not only for you—it is for the nations.

And that fire will not be quenched. The more you give, the more He fills. The more you pour, the more you overflow. And what you cannot contain becomes your witness. It becomes your worship. It becomes the sound of heaven through a yielded vessel.

So cry out if you must. Shout if you must. Dance if you must. Let the fire speak. Let it be said of you, “This one burns for God.”

⸻

You lit a fire I cannot still,
It burns through flesh and breaks my will.
It roars with love and speaks Your name—
Until the world beholds Your flame.

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Closing Prayer:

Yeshua, You alone are life. I have no breath apart from You. No strength. No hope. No light. Set me ablaze with holy fire, that my bones may not rest until You are glorified in all the earth. Let the overflow of Your Spirit in me draw the lost, heal the broken, and exalt Your name. I lay myself at Your feet in total dependence—consume me with Your presence. In the name of the Risen One, amen.

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See Also

Holiness and Revival

Testimonies that Glorify God


Let God Be Glorified

Come and hear, all who fear God, and I will tell what He has done for my soul (Psalm 66:16, NASB).

This is the voice of one who has tasted the mercy of El Elyon and cannot remain silent. He does not draw attention to himself, but to the power of God. Every true testimony flows from this fountain—it glorifies God alone, not the one who speaks.

The Apostle John, who leaned against Yeshua’s chest and saw the glory of the Word made flesh, heard these words from Heaven: They overcame him because of the blood of the Lamb and because of the word of their testimony (Revelation 12:11, NASB). Notice where the victory rests. Not in strategy, eloquence, or charisma—but in the Lamb and what He has done. The testimony is not a platform for self—it is a declaration of God’s faithfulness and mercy.

Even our Savior warned, Beware of practicing your righteousness before men to be noticed by them (Matthew 6:1, NASB). The danger is not just in falsehood, but in misdirected truth—when we say the right things for the wrong reasons, and shift the spotlight onto ourselves.

Let Boasting Die at the Cross

The Apostle Paul could have boasted. His résumé was unmatched—zealous, learned, bold. Yet he said, Far be it from me to boast, except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ (Galatians 6:14, NASB). The cross is where all pride dies. It is where we remember that we were nothing, and He gave us everything. Any story that begins with “I did” must be reexamined. Let every true testimony begin with “God moved.”

Paul reminded the Corinthians, So then neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but God who causes the growth (1 Corinthians 3:7, NASB). We are nothing more than vessels—fragile, breakable, and utterly dependent on El Shaddai to fill us. Testimonies should cause awe, not applause. They should humble, not elevate. If we speak of answered prayers or miracles, let us speak as those trembling in the presence of a holy God.

Before the healing comes, the jar must break. This is where revival begins—on our faces, with nothing held back.

Where Is the Power We Preach?

We have the Word. We memorize the verses. We know what to say. But where is the power? Where is the Presence? We talk about revival, but do we carry it? Yeshua said:

I assure you and most solemnly declare to you that anyone who believes in Me [as Savior] will also perform the same actions as I do. Moreover, they will accomplish even greater feats in scope and reach, for I am going to the Father. And I will do whatever you ask in My name [as My representative], this I will do, so that the Father may be glorified and celebrated in the Son. If you ask Me anything in My name [as My representative], I will do it (John 14:12–14, AMP).

We love to quote verse 15—If you [really] love Me, you will keep and obey My commandments—but are we living verses 12 through 14? We say we follow Him, but where is the fruit? Where is the unmistakable evidence of His power and Presence moving through us?

If we are honest, we must ask: Have we crafted denominations, doctrinal statements, and creeds to soothe our lack of faith? Are we building altars of reason because we have forgotten the fire of God? When Peter was in the Upper Room before Pentecost, he probably cried out, “Lord, we have nothing left but You.” Have we reached that place? Have we truly died to self?

Truly Dying to Self: A Forgotten Cry

What does it mean to truly die to self? We speak of it often, but do we live it? Picking up our crosses daily sounds poetic until obedience costs us something. Listening to His voice is inspiring until He asks us to release our comfort, our pride, or our reputation. Is there anyone alive today who can say, “I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20, NASB)?

If our hearts were truly right with God, these things would happen. Miracles would follow our prayers. Deliverance would spring from our declarations. Revival would not be a hope—it would be a holy eruption. The reason it doesn’t happen is not that God has changed. He is being true to His Word. He tests hearts. He purifies motives. He waits for a people who will make Him the center of their testimony, not themselves.

We need to keep pressing into Him, asking Him to search us and refine us. We must return to the altar, not to tell God what we’ve done, but to ask Him to reveal our motives so that we may be pure vessels. Our testimonies should reflect the cry of John the Baptist: He must increase, but I must decrease (John 3:30, NASB).

She broke her jar—and with it, her pride, her plans, her past. Only in surrender can the fragrance rise. This is where healing begins.

Let Testimonies Burn with His Glory

Even our best obedience is not a trophy—it is a response. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them (Ephesians 2:10, NASB). We are not the authors of greatness. We are the canvas upon which the Master Artist paints His glory.

Let every testimony burn with the truth: It was God. All of it. The mercy. The healing. The change. If He used us, it was not because we were worthy—it was because He is good.

Do not share to impress. Share to exalt. Let your testimony be a trembling offering that points upward, not inward. Speak not of how much faith you had, but how faithful El Olam was to you. Let the story glorify the Name above all names—Yeshua, the Lamb who was slain.

Let Us Pray

O El Shaddai, Mighty and All-Sufficient One,

We come before You with broken hearts, confessing how often we have spoken to be seen, shared to be praised, and testified to exalt ourselves. Forgive us, Lord. Purify our hearts, cleanse our lips, and strip away every hidden motive that does not glorify You.

Teach us what it means to truly die daily—to applause, to recognition, to the craving for man’s approval. Let our testimonies rise like holy incense—fragrant only because You have been faithful. Let them carry the weight of Your glory, not the weight of our names.

We lay our words at Your feet. Sanctify them. Let every syllable exalt the Name above all names—Yeshua, our Redeemer. Let our stories become songs of Your mercy, drawing hearts not to us, but to Your throne.

Burn away pride, expose every imitation, and silence the flesh. Let the fire of Your Spirit purify our witness until only Your power remains. And when we speak, let the world see not us, but You living through us.

We join with the saints, with the seraphim, and with all creation in one cry:

You alone are worthy.

Amen.

A weathered wooden cross stands silhouetted against a glowing sunset, marking the place where pride ends and surrender begins.

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See Also

Return

Return to the Fire of His Presence

We have the Word. We know the words. We say what we say, and we know what we shouldsay. We repeat them often enough. We try to stir up enough faith to believe. We convince ourselves that we are holy, that we are doing what the Lord wants—but to what end?

Where is the Power? Where is the Presence?

In a vision of Pentecost, Peter cries out, “Lord, we have nothing left but You.” What does that truly mean? Has anyone reached that place? Do we even understand what that cry demands of us today? Surrounded by noise, comfort, distraction—are any of us truly in love with the Lord that deeply?

How do we reach the end of ourselves, the end of all this stuff, to see God’s power manifest, present, and carried with us again?

Beloved, hear the call of the Spirit: return to the fire of His presence.

Not to the words only. Not to the form. Not to the motion. But to the living presence of the Lord.

We say the right things. We know the Scriptures. We quote the prophets. We recite the creeds. We cry, “Lord, Lord,” and we work in His name. But the aching question remains: Where is the power? Where is the trembling of the ground under His footsteps? Where is the weight of glory that makes men weep and fall on their faces?

O generation—you have built much, but have you touched the hem of His robe?
You have filled the air with worship, but have you heard His voice in the secret place?
You’ve followed strategies and ministries and models, but have you fallen in love with the Lord Himself?
You are not alone—I, too, have walked this path. You are just like me. But we cannot stay here.

The time has come for holy desperation.
The time has come to say with tears and trembling:

“Lord, we have nothing left but You.”

What does that mean? It means the idols must fall.
It means we throw down the golden calves of comfort, ego, platform, and applause.
It means we stop clinging to religion that denies the power of God—and we press in until the fire falls again.
It means the pursuit of His presence becomes everything. Not a side note. Not a sermon point. Everything.

O brother. O sister. O weary heart—have you reached the end of yourself yet?

When your strength fails, He becomes your strength.
When your words fall flat, His Spirit groans with power.
When your plans are spent and your hands are empty—then, finally, you are ready.
You are not disqualified because you’re weak.
You are disqualified only if you still trust in your own strength.

Believers gathered in deep intercessory prayer, lifting silent groanings before God, surrounded by symbols of His covenant promises.

God waits—for those who will weep between the porch and the altar,
for those who will rend their hearts and not just their garments.

“Return to Me with all your heart,” says the Lord, “and I will return to you” 
Joel 2:12–13, NASB).

A holy cry rises at sunset—the shofar sounds, declaring to heaven and earth: this world belongs to the Lord.

Let the shofar blast awaken you.
Shake yourself from the dust! The King is at the door!

Will He find faith? Will He find fire?

Or will He find us asleep in the comfort of our programs, while His presence waits outside?

Return to the fire of His presence.

Return with fasting. Return with weeping. Return with longing.
He is not far.
He waits for the brokenhearted.
He dwells with the contrite and lowly of spirit.
Let the cry rise again from the depths of your soul:

“We have nothing left but You.”

And beloved—He is enough.

A Prayer for the Returning Heart

Father, we have wandered in our own ways.
We’ve sung Your songs but not sought Your face.
We’ve built our altars, but we left off the fire.
Have mercy on us, O God. Strip us of every false thing.
Let the fear of the Lord return to our hearts.
We cry out—not for blessings, not for breakthrough, not for platforms—but for You.

We want You, Yeshua.
We need You, Ruach HaKodesh.
Consume us. Burn away everything that hinders love.
Let the fire fall again—not around us, but in us.
Make us the kind of people who carry Your presence.
Let the world see again that You are not an idea.

You are the Living God.
In the holy name of Yeshua,

Amen.

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See Also

Holy Spirit

Boldness in the Presence of God

A Call to the Fearless

This word was born last night at the Pray West Boylston prayer meeting at Freedom Worship Center, and was sparked in part by a message two Sundays ago by Samuel Maisonet, formerly of Faith Church in Auburn. It is a word for now — for you, beloved of God.

The world trembles at the sound of danger. Men pray for safety; hearts seek shelter. But I write to you, beloved, that you would not pray as the world prays. You are called higher. You are summoned to boldness in the presence of God.

When the early Church faced threats — real threats of death and imprisonment — they did not plead for protection. They did not beg to be hidden. They lifted their voices and cried:

“And now, Lord, take note of their threats, and grant that Your bond-servants may speak Your word with all confidence.” — Acts 4:29 (NASB)

The ground beneath them shook. Heaven answered with fire. They were filled again with the Holy Spirit. They spoke the Word of God with boldness, not fear.

But boldness is not born of flesh. It is born in the presence of God.

Come and see the prophet Isaiah. He was drawn up to the heights of heaven, where the Lord sat enthroned, high and lifted up. Seraphim circled and cried:

“Holy, Holy, Holy is the LORD of armies, The whole earth is full of His glory.” — Isaiah 6:3 (NASB)

Before the healing comes, the jar must break. This is where revival begins—on our faces, with nothing held back.
She broke her jar—and with it, her pride, her plans, her past. Only in surrender can the fragrance rise. This is where healing begins.

Isaiah fell on his face:

“Woe to me, for I am ruined! Because I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of armies.” — Isaiah 6:5 (NASB)

The fire of God touched him. His guilt was taken away. His sin was atoned for. Then — only then — did he hear the voice of the Lord:

“Whom shall I send, and who will go for Us?” — Isaiah 6:8 (NASB)

Return to the Lord in brokenness

Beloved, Isaiah did not hesitate. His heart, once trembling, now burned. He answered:

“Here am I. Send me!” — Isaiah 6:8 (NASB)

This is the secret: Boldness comes after brokenness. Confidence is born from cleansing. You cannot stand fearless before men until you have bowed low before God.

Boldness in the presence of God is not arrogance — it is holiness on fire. It is the soul washed clean by the blood of Yeshua, the lips purified by His mercy, the heart inflamed by His Spirit. It is the Church, shaken but unshaken. It is the believer, trembling but bold.

And understand this: When God speaks, His command is often 180 degrees opposite to human logic. Where we would pray for protection, He calls us to pray for boldness. Where we would build walls, He calls us to tear them down with His love. His ways are not our ways — they are higher.

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways,” declares the LORD. — Isaiah 55:8 (NASB)

“Whoever wants to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.” — Matthew 16:25 (NASB)

Boldness is not reckless noise; it is love in motion. Last night, the Spirit whispered a deeper truth: it is not only God’s love that draws people — it is God’s love in us. The world will not be won by arguments or anger, but by a bold, visible love that cannot be denied. The true disciple goes out in love and shines. They see Yeshua in us.

As the song “Send Me” by Bethel Music so beautifully sings:

“And before You even ask, oh my answer will be yes.”

This is the posture of boldness: a surrendered yes before the question is even asked.

Will you not come? Will you not enter the presence of the Most High? Will you not fall before Him and be made new?

Do not pray merely for safety. Pray for boldness.
Do not ask merely for comfort. Ask to be sent.
Do not walk in mere knowledge. Walk in love.

The Lord is asking even now:

“Whom shall I send, and who will go for Us?”

Let the cry rise from your cleansed lips:

“Here am I. Send me!”

The world is waiting for the fearless.
The lost are waiting for the loved.
Heaven is waiting for the willing.
The Lord of Glory is waiting for you.

From trembling knees to lion’s roar,
You lift my voice to heights unknown.
In fire and cloud, You speak once more —
The King of Glory claims His own.

Closing Prayer

O Holy Father, El Shaddai,

I come trembling before Your throne. Cleanse my heart with Your holy fire; purify my lips with Your coal. Let every fear be burned away by Your presence. Let every weakness be clothed in Your strength.

Fill me, O Lord, with the power of Your Spirit. Let boldness rise where once there was fear. Let Your love overflow from my heart. Let my voice proclaim the name of Yeshua without shrinking back. Grant me the courage to answer when You call, to stand firm when others fall away, to speak when silence tempts me.

Here I am, Lord — send me.
Here I am, Lord — fill me.
Here I am, Lord — use me for Your glory.

In the mighty name of Yeshua, the King of kings,

Amen.

See Also

Worship

Why are you here?

Call to Worship – Return to the Lord

We come not for a show. Not for noise. Not for programs or performances.
We come for You, O Lord.
You alone are our portion. You alone are our prize.
“Whom have I in heaven but You? And with You, I desire nothing on earth.” (Psalm 73:25, NASB).
If You do not lead, we will not move. If You do not speak, we will not pretend.
“If Your presence does not go with us, do not lead us up from here.” (Exodus 33:15, NASB).
Apart from You, we are lost—wandering, thirsty, broken in the dark.
“Apart from Me you can do nothing.” (John 15:5, NASB).

But You, O Lord, have done great things for us!
You took our sin and nailed it to the cross.
“He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.” (2 Corinthians 5:21, NASB).
You crushed the power of death and rose in glory.
“But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who are asleep.” (1 Corinthians 15:20, NASB).
You broke every chain, tore every veil, and silenced the accuser.
“Having disarmed the rulers and authorities, He made a public display of them, having triumphed over them through Him.” (Colossians 2:15, NASB).
You poured Yourself out—completely, utterly—for us.
“He emptied Himself by taking the form of a bond-servant… He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:7–8, NASB).

So let us come today and pour ourselves out before You.
Let us break our jars at Your feet, like the woman with the alabaster vial.
“She broke the vial and poured it over His head.” (Mark 14:3, NASB).
Let the fragrance of surrender fill the room.
“She has anointed My body beforehand for the burial. Truly I say to you, wherever the gospel is preached… what this woman has done will also be told.” (Mark 14:8–9, NASB).
Not holding back. Not measuring. Not waiting.
You are here, Lord—and You are worthy of it all.
“For where two or three have gathered together in My name, I am there in their midst.” (Matthew 18:20, NASB).

We do not seek a structure. We seek the Shepherd.
“I am the good shepherd, and I know My own, and My own know Me.” (John 10:14, NASB).
We do not follow religion. We follow the Lamb.
“These are the ones who follow the Lamb wherever He goes.” (Revelation 14:4, NASB).
We do not chase performance. We pursue presence.
And Your presence is here.
“Yet You are holy, You who are enthroned upon the praises of Israel.” (Psalm 22:3, NASB).
We bow low. We lift high. We yield everything to You.
“Therefore I urge you… to present your bodies as a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God.” (Romans 12:1, NASB).

Yeshua is risen. The King has triumphed.
The serpent is crushed. The grave is empty.
“The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.” (Romans 16:20, NASB).
“He is not here, for He has risen, just as He said.” (Matthew 28:6, NASB).
The throne is occupied. The gates of hell are falling.
“Upon this rock I will build My church, and the gates of Hades will not overpower it.” (Matthew 16:18, NASB).
All authority belongs to You—forever.
“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to Me.” (Matthew 28:18, NASB).

So we worship not to be seen, but to see You.
“We would see Jesus.” (John 12:21, KJV).
Not to impress, but to adore.
“Worship the Lord in the splendor of holiness; Tremble before Him, all the earth.” (Psalm 96:9, NASB).
Not to receive, but to respond.
“We love, because He first loved us.” (1 John 4:19, NASB).

In the name of Yeshua, the risen Lord, we declare: Victory belongs to the Lord—and He is here!
“Salvation, glory, and power belong to our God.” (Revelation 19:1, NASB).

See Also

Holy Spirit

Knowing the Spirit Within

A call to embrace the supernatural witness of the Holy Spirit and knowing the Spirit within

Beloved,

I write to you not as one who holds answers of the mind, but as one whose heart has burned with the voice of the Spirit. You who are called by the name of Yeshua, do you not know that what you have received is not the spirit of this world, but the Spirit who is from God? That Spirit whispers in places no man can reach. He speaks not to the mind first, but to the soul—deep to deep, glory to glory.

The Apostle wrote, “What we have received is not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may understand what God has freely given us” (1 Corinthians 2:12, AMP). And yet today many walk as though this Spirit were silent. They search the Scriptures for arguments, but not for awe. They assemble sermons that dazzle the intellect, but do not break the heart. This is not the way of God.

The witness of the Spirit cannot be packaged. It is not a theory to teach. It is a Presence to encounter. “The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are children of God” (Romans 8:16, NASB). This is not poetry; it is reality. Have you heard Him? Has your spirit trembled under the weight of His holiness? Has your soul been kissed by the fire of His truth?

You may know doctrine well. You may have walked many years in the church house. But I ask you, dear child of God—has your heart known Him? Not merely believed, but known. “This is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Yeshua the Messiah whom You have sent” (John 17:3, NASB).

There is a kind of knowledge that words cannot touch. There is a voice the outward ear cannot hear. It is the still, inward breath of Ruach HaKodesh—the Holy Spirit—hovering over the soul like He hovered over the waters in the beginning. “You have an anointing from the Holy One, and you all know” (1 John 2:20, NASB). How? By the inner witness, the sacred yes of the Spirit.

Do not reduce what is holy to what is explainable. The world demands signs and arguments. But the Spirit reveals Himself to the surrendered, not to the skeptical. He bypasses the defenses of reason and writes the name of the Father upon the heart. Those who are born of Him walk not by sight but by the light within.

The question is not, “Do you understand everything?” The question is, “Have you been seized by God?” Has your soul heard the thunder of His whisper? Have you become alive with a life not your own? If not, I urge you—do not settle for a religion of facts. Cry out, as the Psalmist did, “My soul thirsts for God, for the living God; when shall I come and appear before God?” (Psalm 42:2, NASB).

Let us no longer boast in knowledge alone. Let us boast in intimacy with the Holy One. Let us return to the fire that cannot be taught, only caught. Let us abandon formulas for fellowship, programs for Presence, and pride for prayer.

And now, I urge you—press in. Seek Him while He may be found. Quiet your soul. Lay down your striving. Let the Spirit testify.

The wind blows where it wills. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit (John 3:8, NASB).

Prayer

Abba,

Breathe upon us again. Awaken the deep places in our hearts. Forgive us for reducing the mystery of Your Spirit to human logic. We hunger not for religion, but for You. Let Your Spirit witness to ours. Let us know we are Yours—not just by Scripture, but by encounter.

We surrender every argument, every doubt, every fear. Work supernaturally within us this day. Let us walk with You in step, in Spirit, in truth. Lead us back to that sacred fire where all that matters is knowing You—together with Your Son, Yeshua, and the breath of Your Spirit forevermore.

Amen.

⸻

See Also

Return

When We Say “Come” – God Says “Return”

The True Distance Between Us and God

Look again. That ache in your spirit crying, “Come, Lord”—it may not reveal His absence, but your distance. God hasn’t gone anywhere. He stands right beside you, unchanged and ever near. And yet we look around, frantic and pleading, while He watches with a mix of sorrow and gentle amusement. Sorrow, because we’ve wandered. Amusement, because we’re searching for what was never lost. Is it sin that blinds us? Idols that distract? Pride that numbs? When we cry, “Come,” He answers, “Return.” Not in anger, but in mercy—calling us back to the place where He’s been all along.

Beloved, how often do our prayers begin with, “Come, Lord Jesus”—as if He had gone somewhere far off? How often do we lift our hands, ache in our voices, longing for God to descend, forgetting that He has already drawn near? The Spirit broods over the waters of our lives, and the Son stands at the door and knocks. Yet we plead, “Come!” as though He were absent. And in the stillness, the voice of the Father answers, “Return to Me.”

“Return to Me, and I will return to you,” says the Lord of hosts (Malachi 3:7, NASB). This is not contradiction. It is correction. The cry of “Come, Lord!” often masks the fact that it is our hearts that have wandered, not His. We pray for revival, for God to show up, for His presence to be known. But He has not moved. He is the Ancient of Days, seated and steadfast. It is we who have run after idols, grown cold, hidden behind our busyness or pain.

Yeshua said, “I am with you always” (Matthew 28:20, NASB), and again, “Where two or three are gathered in My name, I am there” (Matthew 18:20, NASB). He has already come. The presence of the Holy One surrounds us like the wind—felt but unseen. And yet, how blind we are when sin fogs our eyes or pride numbs our hearts.

“Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you” (James 4:8, NASB). This is the sacred tension. Our lips cry “Come,” but God says, “Return.” And if we would humble ourselves, tear down the altars we’ve built to self and success, and once again seek His face—not just His hand—we would discover what was always true: He never left.

He is the God who stands in the fire, the whisper in the cave, the One who walks beside us on the road and is only recognized when our hearts burn within us. When we say “Come,” let it not be an accusation of absence, but a confession of our own distance. And let His voice thunder back—not in anger, but in mercy—“Return.”

I cried out, “Come!” with desperate plea,
But You, O Lord, were still with me.
The space I felt was not Your part—
It came from my divided heart.

Prayer

Holy Father, forgive us for calling You absent when it was we who left. Forgive us for asking You to “come” while we clung to idols, routine, and noise. Today, we respond to Your cry—“Return to Me.” We cast off our distractions. We rend our hearts. We choose the secret place. Let us find You again where You have always been—waiting with mercy, watching like the Father for the prodigal. In the name of Yeshua, who made the way back home, Amen.

See Also

Personal Holiness

Set Apart to Burn

Beloved, God is holy, and those who dwell in His presence must be holy also. You were not redeemed to blend with this world but to be set apart for El Shaddai, radiant in righteousness, clothed in purity, and burning with longing for the One who is altogether lovely. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled” (Matthew 5:6, AMP). This hunger is not of the mind—it is of the spirit. It is not theory—it is fire.

Do you not know, dear one, that the Lord your God is a consuming fire? (Deuteronomy 4:24). He burns away all that is unclean. But He also warms the heart of the one who seeks Him in truth. If you would walk in intimacy with the Spirit of God, then let there be a great returning—a forsaking of compromise, a renouncing of secret sin, a full surrender to Yeshua HaMashiach. For these reasons, you are set apart, called into His embrace to burn with passion for holiness. “Everyone who has this hope [in Him] continually purifies himself, just as He is pure” (1 John 3:3, AMP).

The world mocks purity, but the Spirit exalts it. Weep if you must, tear down the altars of pride and entertainment and comfort. There is no path to glory that bypasses the cross. And the cross still calls you to die daily—to die to flesh, to sin, to vanity—and live unto God. “Therefore, having these promises, beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, completing holiness in the fear of God” (2 Corinthians 7:1, AMP).

Rebuilding the altar of the Lord

Tozer was right: you cannot feel what is not rooted in the soil of repentance. Many want the wind of the Spirit, but they will not build the altar. Yet God visits the altar, not the stage. He comes where there is brokenness and obedience, where hearts lie prostrate and spirits cry out for the living God, set apart to burn in His presence.

Come out, dear reader. Be separate. Be clean. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded (James 4:8). Not for shame, but for glory. Not for legalism, but for love. The Bridegroom is holy. His Bride must be made ready, set apart for His divine calling. And the beauty He sees in you is not your gifting—it is your holiness. It is Christ formed in you.

“Without holiness, no one will see the Lord” (Hebrews 12:14, NASB). These are not words of wrath, but of invitation. For He longs to be seen. He yearns to be known. But He will not reveal Himself where idols still reign.

So, lay the groundwork—repentance, obedience, separation, holy living—and then watch. You will be filled. Set apart, you will burn with His holiness. The Holy One will draw near. And the joy of His presence will become wonderfully, wonderfully real.

⸻

Prayer

O God who is holy and enthroned in glory, we repent of every impurity we’ve harbored. Cleanse us, refine us, draw us into the furnace of Your presence. Plant within us a new hunger, a deeper thirst, a passion for purity. Let us walk blameless before You, not by our strength but by the blood of the Lamb. We are set apart to burn in Your holy fire. Make us holy as You are holy. In Yeshua’s name, amen.

⸻

See Also