‘The Hoping’ a prophetic word.
“In the run up to our event in May 2025, ‘The Hoping’, our dear friend Wayne challenged me to prepare a prophetic word to share. The result was actually a two part word and a blessing. This is the portion of the word I shared, while brilliant musicians prophesied right alongside me on the keyboard and drums, during one of the events. I hope that a line, a thought, some part of this will stir and encourage you today.”
Sons and daughters,
There are things to keep tucked away, to protect deep within the folds of yourself. There are precious moments, intimacies between me and you that grow only the more tender when kept wrapped up, cosseted and warmed by the gentle pressure of our embrace. Isn’t it a beautiful thing to have secrets with me?
But, that hiding place, that sacred meeting space is not meant for everything. Today, dear sons and daughters, I’m here to remind you that it’s not the place to store your hopes.
For hope is not a thing to be hidden.
Hope may root in a tender embrace. But it doesn’t shoot and surge in the warmth and secrecy of a lover’s embrace. Hope comes alive in full view, basking in sunlight, alight and alive for all to see.
Remember the story of the widow and the oil? First, she remembered the goodness of her late husband’s God. Then, she put her hope in His prophet. Next, she hoped out loud. Abundantly, embarrassingly loud.
She hoped so loud her neighbours heard.
She cast herself so wide open, soft and vulnerable parts belly up and asked others to help her, to hope with her.
She hoped again and again, with every jar she carried home she hoped a little louder, hoped a little bigger.
Imagine for a moment, knocking on your neighbours doors. Already the subject of their pity and sympathy and, instead of tidying yourself up, tucking yourself away and painting your brave face on you go even closer to the ground. You go, humbled by hope. Asking for a favour, borrowing what’s theirs, revealing your hope in the bright light of day.
With every jar collected your capacity for hope stretches, reshaping you.
With every jar collected, the pressure increases … you’ve hoped so abundantly now…will you just be left with empty jars? Will you be knocking these doors again handing back jar after empty jar?
But, with every jar collected, your capacity for a miracle stretches too…reshaping and remaking you.
Every extra jar, every hope shared, every belly up vulnerable moment has made space, has made way, for God’s tender oil of provision in your life.
When the jars had been filled, the oil stopped flowing.
The hoping widow had enough to provide for her sons.
The hoping widow didn’t return any empty jars.
When the jars had been filled the oil stopped flowing.
…imagine if she’d had even more jars?
Or, imagine if the hoping widow had stayed hidden and only dusted off her own empty jars.
Even the dusting off would have felt brave. Would have felt hopeful.
She would have even got a little miracle, a lifeline of oil to sustain her and her boys for a little longer.
But our God is not a God of meagre miracles, is He?
He is rivers in a dessert.
He is a path through an ocean. The calm in the storm. He is the God who feeds the thousands, liberates a nation and plans a future for every son and daughter.
Hope is not a thing to be hidden. Hope thrives in the light. Hope multiplies in community and connection. Hope roots and shoots, reshaping you and remaking you, when it’s coated with vulnerability.
What are you hoping for?
What are we hoping for, here in this nation?
Hope is not a thing to be hidden.
Have you dusted off your oil jar yet?
Is it time to go, humbly hopeful, and borrow a neighbours?
Are your arms so full with jars, ‘hope jars’, that you’ve got stronger just by carrying them. Muscles straining and tensing as you tuck another jar under your arm.
Because it does strengthen you. It sustains you. The more you hope, the stronger you get.
How many jars are you carrying?
Are you ready for the oil?
The oil only stopped flowing when the jars were full.