One Sunday, I visited a prophet. I was skeptical. He did not seem like he was anything great. I was in my early twenties and my father was pastoring a church in Tucson, Arizona. We were invited by this prophet to his home. He said he had a word from the Lord for our family. I was not impressed by the small living room that had rows of chairs lined up. I was not impressed with the complete lack of music. I was not impressed by the location or the people who met in this bad side of town. I was not impressed that there was no children’s ministry, no Sunday School and I was equally unimpressed by this man who called himself a prophet. It is my instinctive response to scoff with disbelief when people make such proclamations. I was just completely annoyed to be in attendance at all. As the service wore on, and “The prophet” took the microphone, I was wishing I was anywhere but here. I’ve met enough self proclaimed prophets and had heard so many prophesies that I just impatiently shifted in my seat trying to “will” this whole thing over with. Little did I know, that this man’s words would set my destiny in motion in spite of my disbelief. That day, he took my hands and began to prophesy that I would use these hands to grasp the Sword of Truth to decipher the Word for those who would hear. He prophesied that my husband and I would minister together. At the time, I was married to my first husband and I scoffed at the very idea of him doing any kind of ministering at all. I did go home and write this event in my diary. I did not know that before the decade was out, my first husband would leave me and the church. I would eventually remarry and this man and I would pray together, serve together, speak together, start businesses and churches together. It was meant to be, We WOULD minister together.

In March of 2009, I stepped up to the podium like I had so many times before. On this day, I began to speak about my former pastors. I spoke of my gratitude to them, the impact they had on my life, my spirit and my ministry. I spoke of their ministry in my life. Some ministries were a positive experience while others were negative but both made me a rich woman indeed. Through the years, I had garnered enough spiritual “gems” that as my ordination service came to a close on that cold, spring morning and those present signed a log as witnesses, I recognized one of the most important factors of ministry.. as rich as I was in spirit, I was a daughter of the King, placed here to serve not to rule. For we serve a God whose Son conquered through submission.

In the years that have followed my ordination, I have been humbled again and again at having the opportunity to serve and minister to so many different people. I have faced many obstacles. Those who cannot hear me because I am a woman, those who cannot see Christ because of my humanity and those who cannot receive because their pride has made them incapable. I have been lied on, mocked, ridiculed and abused, sometimes by those who were the closest to me. I have also experienced the frustration of depending entirely on God… and I say frustration because my flesh is impatient and seeks to work out God’s plan in my time while my spirit contends to walk by faith. I have experienced spiritual warfare and physical defeat through illness, deafness and financial devastation but God has been faithful to restore and heal. I have been judged by those who think I’m too worldly and by others who think I am too legalistic. I have had people condemn me for my liberties while others have proclaimed my hypocrisy because I preach too hard and fail too often. I have seen times of plenty and I have seen famine. I have preached to the sinner and to the saint and found myself repenting while everyone else walked out unmoved. But I have also preached and watched those closest to me fumble their way to the Cross when I thought they were so unreachable. In everything, God was and is my comfort. This road is not for the faint of heart but it is for those who submit wholly to it. You cannot rule it. You cannot conquer it. You cannot shortcut it and you cannot predict it. There is only submission.

I look back to those days when I had a podium to speak at and a piano to play on. I hold to past revelations. miracles and inspiration that God gave me. These are the twelve stones in my Jordan River. I look back as they testify that God honored and humbled me to be His servant. God was mindful of me enough to allow me to be apart of His plan. I am home now in Tucson. There is no church for me to speak in, no pianos for me to play, no worship service for me to lead, no table of the elders to pull up to, no financial statements and budgets to approve for the kids. Like the children of Israel, I am in the land God promised and I face giants instead of brethren, walls instead of open gates and my path is only revealed as I take each step. There is no welcoming party just the woes of transition. God has provided fellowship through His spirit and through His servants but there are times when I want to grieve the ministry we left.  In all this, I am without doubt, that God has placed us here. I have been in ministry long enough that I do not look to man for answers or approval for who I am and what I believe. I cannot know where God is taking us and who we will minister to or who will minister to us. With this uncertainty, we walk. We walk by faith. It is during this time, I look back to the testimony and memorial of my twelve stones placed in the river as I passed from what was to what is.