Our V squad training camp happened in mid October. We spent some time one night prophecying over one another (another word for allowing God to speak truth through you to another person). We were told to find someone and stand in front of them with our hands on their shoulders. I ended up in front of Clara, my team leader. I told her the image I saw in my mind: the interior of a small, wooden shack lit by a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. The lightbulb was burning bright, but suddenly it blew out and the room went dark. The shack’s door flew open and outside was a wheat field in golden sunlight. I wasn’t sure what it meant. She journaled about it that night.
During team time a few days ago, Clara spent a few minutes explaining why she felt the images were significant. She said the lightbulb represents an artificial faith powered by human strength and effort, while the sunshine outside the shack represents the light of Christ. I believe the image communicated this: If I want to be a vessel of God’s love, my false idea of him first needs to be destroyed.
A few days ago, our squad had a midday worship session. Afterwards, we were each told to number 1 through 6 on a piece of paper and then spend thirty minutes scribing six different things the Lord told us. We were told it could be a paragraph, or a single word. I didn’t know at the time which six people would be receiving mine. Lindsay divided the squad randomly into groups of 6. Each group drew from a hat containing the numbers 1 through 6, and we gave each person their respective piece of paper. (I drew the number 2, so the other five people in my group gave me the second thing they’d written on their list, etc).
I was in a different group than my squad leader Clara. She came up to me afterwards and showed me one of the prophecies she’d received. I read it out aloud and then looked at her. The very image God gave me that I spoke over Clara during training camp was written on the scrap of paper. Someone else had received an image from God of a shack in a wheat field facing the sun, and the scrap of paper it was written on ended up in Clara’s hands. This proved to me that there are no coincidences!
