TD Jakes - The Year That Changed The World
The year that changed the world, so jot that down: the year that changed the world. Though I’m not going to directly address our contemporary situation, it is closely related. We are in the midst of a transition in this country; in one way or another, we’re in transition all over the world as a result of the pandemic. Economically, we are transitioning. Our norms have been disrupted; we are finding new ways to celebrate birthdays, new ways to do everything. We are in transition in this country concerning the criminal justice system, and we’re having tough conversations. I just want to say a quick word about tough conversations: don’t be too hard on people when they don’t express everything just right.
Correct them, but don’t be nasty or cruel, because America has never had to engage in the conversation it is having right now for hundreds of years. It hasn’t been required, and many people are being forced to think differently; they may not get it right the first time. I’m simply asking you to extend people a little grace. You can tell them they misspoke or didn’t think about the entire situation, but many of our brethren genuinely want to help and may not yet have the language to do so because they didn’t realize the depth and magnitude of the problem. It’s difficult for us to understand this because we live in the midst of the issue they are just now discovering. They don’t know what to say, but they want to say something.
We don’t want to be so harsh that we shut everyone down and scare them away from speaking up. Correct them when they misspeak, address what is offensive, but don’t attack people, and don’t allow others to attack those who are trying to learn the language of our time. I’m excited; I know it’s a mess. I know it’s painful—some of the images I’ve seen will stay with me for life. I’m scarred, hurt, wounded, angry, and filled with other emotions, but I’m excited about this part. I’m excited that we are having a conversation that is long overdue. As someone who regularly counsels couples, I know that when we renew vows or counsel people, you see the pretty parts: the white dresses, the cake, the rice thrown at the couple.
However, I get to see the tough parts of people who are upset with one another and are trying to have a conversation. I’m not as rattled by that as some people are because I understand that the only way to achieve a healthy marriage or relationship when perspectives differ is to talk. When communication breaks down, it is a bad sign that things are getting worse. America is trying to talk; we’re trying to have a conversation. On one side, we’re attempting to converse in a way that isn’t so angry that we can’t be heard, and on the other side, we’re trying to communicate about something that we’re afraid to get wrong. We must navigate this because we lack someone in the middle, like a counselor, to mediate our discussions.
It’s like a husband and wife locked in a room, fighting one another. Just think about that: extend grace where appropriate, correct people when necessary, but don’t be nasty or write people off completely. Yes, some may need to be dismissed, but for many, it’s a matter of understanding. Whenever possible, let’s foster conversations. We need everyone around the table: Black folks, White folks, Brown folks, Boomers, Millennials, young folks, old folks, and Asian people—everyone. This is our country, and we can’t shut anyone down to the point where they feel they can’t express themselves. Let’s try to engage in this conversation that America is having because it’s crucial for the future. We need to stop injustice, quell rage, and return to the place that God wants us to be. I want you to think about that.
Again, let’s turn to 1 Samuel 1:6-16. When you have it, say Amen. I can’t hear you, but God can hear you—say Amen. 1 Samuel 1:6-16. Let’s dive into this—the year that changed the world. We’re going to jump right into the heart of the story; I don’t usually prefer to do that, but since we’re discussing Hannah, Elkanah, and Penina, we’re examining a family—a well-off, affluent family that still faces problems, and how God resolved those issues in their lives. However, there’s far more to this text than that. We will start with the family story, or narrative, and then we will expand from there. Her adversary also provoked her sorely—this refers to Penina—to make her fret, because the Lord had shut up Hannah’s womb. The Lord had shut up Hannah’s womb, while Penina’s womb had not been shut.
Penina had been very fruitful, which was driving Hannah up the wall; the inequity between Penina and Hannah was frustrating her. It tormented Hannah to see Penina’s success while she herself was barren, and it didn’t seem fair: they shared the same husband, yet Penina was fruitful, and Hannah was not. That’s understandable, isn’t it? As he did so year after year, whenever she went up to the house of the Lord, Penina provoked her; therefore, Hannah wept and did not eat. Then Elkanah, her husband, asked her, «Hannah, why are you weeping, and why are you not eating? Why is your heart grieved? Am I not better to you than ten sons?»
So Hannah rose after they had finished eating in Shiloh, and after they had drunk. Now Eli the priest sat on a seat by the post of the temple of the Lord. She was in bitterness of soul and prayed to the Lord and wept sorely. She vowed a vow and said, «O Lord of hosts, if you will indeed look on the affliction of your handmaid and remember me, and not forget your handmaid but will give unto your handmaid a man child, then I will give him unto the Lord all the days of his life, and no razor shall come upon his head.»
In other words, he will become a Nazarite; he will take the Nazarite vow. As she continued praying before the Lord, Eli observed her mouth. Now Hannah spoke in her heart; only her lips moved, but her voice was not heard. Therefore, Eli thought she had been drunken, and Eli said to her, «How long will you be drunken? Put away your wine from you.» Hannah answered and said, «No, my lord; I am a woman of a sorrowful spirit. I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but have poured out my soul before the Lord.»
You see why I emphasize when women pray? When you pour out your soul before the Lord, when you pour out your soul, there are certain things happening right now: you have to pour out your soul before the Lord. If you’ve been in isolation at home for an extended period, you must pour out your soul before the Lord. When you step outside into all this chaos, you must pour out your soul before the Lord. If you step out of your door without a job, in changing times where companies are shutting down, you must pour out your soul before the Lord. If you don’t, you risk exploding on the people you love, fussing and complaining at them about things they cannot control.
There’s a difference between being angry and being bitter. You can experience anger, but when bitterness sets in, it becomes toxic and starts to affect every aspect of your life. If you don’t pour out that toxicity before God, if you don’t expel that poison from within you, it will fester and lead you to hurt things and people you never intended to hurt. It can destroy everything that God has for you. You have to pour out your soul before the Lord. It doesn’t matter where you stand on the issues surrounding you; everybody’s hurting. Everyone is worried, uncomfortable, and uneasy due to the total disruption everywhere—disease, death, shootings, and chaos. Everyone is affected; you have to pour out your soul before God, and nobody does that better than women.
That’s why I’m discussing the importance of when women pray. It’s something to grasp. I’m not dismissing the power of men’s prayer; I’m preparing to talk about fatherhood, but there’s something extraordinary about when women pray. It’s remarkable. Hannah is praying here, and she says, «Count not your handmaid for a daughter of Belial.» In other words, «I am not an evil woman; I am not a worldly woman; I am not an idolatrous woman.» «For out of the abundance of my complaint and grief, I have spoken hitherto.» This grief is coming from me. It’s not wine; it isn’t liquor; it isn’t Boones Farm or Gordon’s gin—this is grief. This is not a secret; it’s grief manifesting.
Sometimes, you must take your emotional distress to the Lord and release it. I want to talk about the subject «The Year That Changed the World» because the Bible states that every year around this time, they would go up for a pilgrimage. In verse 7, it says, «As he did so year by year when she went up to the house of the Lord.» It was their custom to make this pilgrimage and go up from Shiloh to offer a sacrifice to God. Yet this year was unlike any other year; it was the year that changed the world. I believe, by the Spirit, that 2020 will be the year that changes the world. It already has, in both profound and painful ways; indeed, this is the year that changed the world. I believe it is a year destined to change your world.
Ultimately, I believe that all things work together for the good of those who love the Lord and are called according to His purpose, and I don’t want you to lose hope that this will be the year that changes your world for the better. I’m going to delve into Hannah’s story and set up context for this text, as the text is meaningful only when set in context. If you take it out of context, you risk distorting its application and watering down its potency. First Samuel is believed to have been primarily written by Samuel, and I concur. Some scholars think there were contributions by Gad and Nathan as well, but it is widely recognized that First Samuel is largely authored by Samuel. It’s a Deuteronomistic history of the nation of Israel.
When I say «Deuteronomistic,» understand that we are looking at the development of a nation and its people. This narrative follows the Book of Ruth and the Book of Judges. I mention Judges because between 1 Samuel and the Book of Judges, we see a transition unfold. The last verse of the Book of Judges states, «In those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did what was right in his own eyes.» Whenever there is no king and everyone does what is right in their own eyes, we both know that leads to chaos. There are no rules enforced, no authority. We are nearing the end of Judges and moving toward the emergence of kings. The Israelites had asked God for a king. God was hesitant to grant this request because He viewed Himself as the king of Israel; it was a theocracy—a nation ruled by God. He appointed judges, not kings, as He saw Himself as the king over His people, and still does. Thus, for them to ask for a human king instead of God was painful, and ultimately, He would give them Saul, which would also bring pain.
Through this transition, numerous significant events unfold. We are in a transition right now; our world is in transition. Our culture is in transition. The culture of America is undergoing a transformation. Transitions are challenging; they can drive you crazy because they can’t return to the system of judges, nor can they advance toward kings. The people were caught between two points, unable to go back or forward, and they sought a king from God. The reason God was reluctant to grant a king was that He saw Himself as their king. That’s what a theocracy is—a nation governed by God. He appointed judges instead of kings, and He still sees Himself as the king over His people. Ultimately, this request for a man over God was heart-wrenching.
So here we are, right in between it all, where everyone is doing what is right in their own eyes. We’re in the parts of the Bible where Naomi has left Bethlehem and gone to Moab, mingling with the Moabites, driven away by famine. Eventually, she comes back home, bitter in spirit, and it feels like she’s here, there, and everywhere. This reminds me of our current situation because people are all over the place; nice people are acting nasty, and people you thought would be kind are now nice.
Everything is completely unpredictable. We’re in the midst of transition, unsure whether we want to remain in Bethlehem or move to Moab, going back and forth. We’re having conversations, trying to improve things, while some people attempt to make things worse. Some are holding on to what they have, while others are trying to attain what they’ve never possessed. Everyone is snatching, grabbing, pulling, and tugging. For God’s sake, do not go on social media and say something crazy—everyone goes absolutely mad! Even if it’s not crazy, you might say something nice and get attacked. It’s just really bad, and we’re bombarded with images, news floods, chaos, and confusion.
I love preaching this text during such tumultuous times because when there is so much drama, people often ask, «Where is God?» as if He has left; as if He took the fire escape and flew away on a private plane. God is not the author of confusion; that is absolutely true. However, do not think for one moment that God doesn’t work amidst chaos. He created the earth out of chaos—in total confusion.
In Genesis 1:1-3, it says: «In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth, and the earth was without form and void, and darkness covered the face of the deep.» None of that stopped God from moving. God said, «Let there be light,» and there was light, and the light shined in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it. God does work in chaos, bringing order to chaos, just as He managed to bring things into order after separating the waters and managing the land. This is what we need God to do in America, Venezuela, South America, Canada, Italy, Ghana, Nigeria, the Congo, South Africa, Europe, Rome, and Italy. We need God to put things in order, and we will never get that if we don’t pray. We need to seek His face and call on His name.
We will never realize that God can accomplish great things from unpleasant encounters. We’ve been polite for too long, swallowing our feelings and not speaking our hearts. Now that we finally start expressing our hearts, it feels like all hell is breaking loose. But God can work in confusion, chaos, and turmoil; He can still get it done. In the midst of a kingless Israel, God plants a seed in the barren womb of a woman named Hannah. That’s what we’re discussing—how newness begins. Newness doesn’t start on loudspeakers or television; it doesn’t satisfy the desperation of the masses. No, it begins quietly in a corner. God is already raising us up, moving, stretching, and delivering, while we think He isn’t doing anything because He hasn’t tweeted about it. God is always at work, whether He posts it or not.
Sometimes people say, «You need to do something!» but I am doing something, even when you can’t see it. What is it about us that makes us think if you don’t post it, it didn’t happen? Real change occurs behind closed doors, in meetings, and through using your influence to get things done. One of the biggest mistakes I ever made was trying to change something in a city where we were working by going public to get the change done. Had I approached it privately and followed a structured approach, I could have been effective. Instead, I reacted in a heated manner and turned to public pressure, which would have been far less effective. Later, I learned to take another approach. Some matters need public attention, while others need to be addressed quietly. He who wins souls is wise.
There are times when God acts as a lion and times when He acts as a lamb. He is returning as the Lion of the Tribe of Judah, but He could not redeem us while roaring. On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross, seemingly disconnected from the world’s chaos, where a carpenter’s son was nailed to a tree. What did that have to do with the world’s chaos? It had everything to do with it. «Despise not the day of small beginnings.» This text is fundamentally about how God would start afresh in a corner with a frustrated woman and begin to bring about change in her life. If she wasn’t frustrated enough, He sent someone to provoke her.
I want to talk about being provoked. Being provoked seems like you had a motivational speaker inspire you to take action, or you heard a great sermon or a wonderful song that moved you to launch out in faith. Wrong! Most of the time, when God is ready to provoke you, He sends an irritant into your life to get on your nerves. Penina irritated Hannah, and the Bible says she provoked her. Why? Because Penina was blessed while Hannah was not. Penina was fruitful, and Hannah was not. Hannah looked at herself and then at Penina, wondering, «Why don’t I have what she has?» She was just as much a woman, married to the same man, yet it seemed like God was blessing in a lopsided manner, which provoked her.
Some of you may find that your friends aren’t provoking you; it’s your enemies who do. Those who shower you with accolades aren’t provoking you; it’s your critics who do. Sometimes, God allows an irritant in your life to produce a pearl in your spirit. Did you know that pearls are formed by a grain of sand caught in a clam? The irritant becomes a pearl as calcium builds around it. Similarly, when you talk about being provoked, God will allow something to irritate you, pushing you to go back to school, open your own business, or apologize to someone. God uses various means to provoke you into making necessary changes, and we pray and dance about it, sing songs, but when the process begins for what we asked for, we often don’t recognize God’s answer.
God’s answer may take the form of Penina—someone who gets on your nerves, flaunting their success in your face, prompting you to strive for better. Someone who laughed at you, hurt your feelings, or divorced you. Often, people discuss what they want to run into, but sometimes it’s what you’re running from that truly matters. God will place something behind you to make you run faster than you ever have before, and in this case, it was Penina. God used the ministry of Penina to provoke Hannah into a better understanding of who she was.
Oh my God, sometimes in your life, it’s not those who comfort and cuddle you that propel you toward your destiny; it’s that person who exacerbates your frustration, pointing out something you’re already ashamed of. Adam was already ashamed, and I want you to understand why Hannah was ashamed. We live in a society that often discourages large families. Some want one baby, no more; others want two. People kill babies, dismiss them, and it’s tragic but happening daily. When discussing Biblical truths about God’s commitment to life, it doesn’t resonate as it should because families plan their future based on their home size.
However, God wants to do something in your life. In Biblical times, women took pride in having children, not just for the sake of it, but because the promise was given to Eve: the seed of the woman would rise up and bruise the head of the serpent while the serpent bruises his heel. Every woman thereafter believed she might be the one to produce the promised Savior. One woman declared, «Give me a child, lest I die.» They wanted children proudly.
It’s tough to teach these ancient Eastern principles in today’s contemporary Western world because we perceive things differently than our predecessors did. Hannah desired a child; her self-esteem was linked to it, as was her connection to her husband and God. The promise was significant—"the seed of the woman will rise up and bruise the head of the serpent.» God meant for Hannah to be provoked by Penina because there is a ministry of provocation designed to inspire you to gather the momentum needed to push through and achieve your goals.
Pain plays an important role in the process of destiny. Pain was the catalyst for Hannah’s transformation. She was bitter, wounded, and sorrowful, her spirit tormented. Her husband asked, «What’s wrong with you?» She wasn’t eating or drinking as she sank into her sorrow. Every time she looked at Penina, her pain intensified. Penina’s mocking intensified Hannah’s suffering. With an empty womb, Hannah felt the love she longed to give to a child she didn’t possess. She was a singer but had no baby to sing to or hold at night, and that was painful.
On the journey towards God’s promise, pain is often inevitable. There will be pain—if you want anything, there will be pain. If you want to achieve anything, there will be pain. If you get married, there will be pain. If you remain single, there will be pain. If you have children, there will be pain. If you don’t have children, pain is part of the process that leads you to your unique destiny.
I was telling someone today that the pain America is feeling right now is the pain of recovery. Have you ever been sick, needing surgery, and hesitated until it became unbearable? Finally, you decided to have the surgery, checked into the hospital, and underwent the procedure. When you woke up, you were met with pain as the anesthesia wore off. You had pain before the surgery that drove you to seek help, and afterward, you faced the pain of recovery.
After over 450 years of chaos in this country, do you think we’re going to recover without pain? Do you think we’ll heal without pain? You think we can discuss this without pain? You think we’ll recover with mere polite platitudes or simplistic Christian sayings? No, we are not going to heal without confronting the pain that lies within us.
Well, you think you’re going to sing over the top of this history and bring about healing. Sometimes the deeper the surgery, the greater the pain of recovery. Don’t shush me; I’m going to say something: this hurts. Nurse! Nurse! Give me some help! Well, your surgery was successful. I don’t care that it was successful; healing hurts. Healing hurts too. It’s just that it is pain with purpose, but it does not mean that it’s not pain. You get marital counseling, and that’s painful. It’s painful!
Listen, listen, listen, I have sat in so many marital counseling sessions. Trust me, believe me when I tell you marital counseling is painful. I’ve sat across from couples who were ready to kill each other. They said things that hurt each other; they brought up things from their past and childhood that hurt each other. They said things that they didn’t know about each other. They went all the way back into their childhood. Before they got better, they had to get worse. It had to hurt before it could heal. The pain of recovery is something we don’t talk about. Hannah was in pain because something was getting ready to happen, and pain is one of the midwives of purpose.
I want you to write that down: pain is one of the midwives of purpose. Yeah, pain makes you value being well. Labor pains make you appreciate and hold on to that baby. It costs you something. Building a church costs you something. By the time you get through fighting contractors, get through them running off with the money, quitting on the job, lying about what they did, not putting in the right stuff, putting in lesser-grade equipment, and charging you more money for it, believe me, building is painful. My pastor, when I was a little boy, told me building churches is for young men.
I see what he meant: it’s painful. It’s painful working through the red tape—what the bank takes you through, what the government takes you through, and what you have to pay for. General contractors take you through it, with subcontractors putting liens on the bill and going through this and that trying to work through the deal. You paid the general contractor, but he didn’t pay his subs. Now the subcontractors have a lien on the building. Building is painful. You don’t see anybody teaching us about this. We just think everything just happens. «Oh, that’s anointed! They’re so blessed! Glory to God! They just did it!»
Listen, progress is painful. In the early days of this country, moving from the East Coast to the West Coast was a painful decision. You might get killed; you might get snakebit; you might go destitute; you might die in the desert; you might get killed by a bobcat or a wildcat. Change is painful, and Hannah was in real pain—the kind of pain that draws you to the feet of Jesus—the kind of pain that lays you out on the altar—the kind of pain that leaves you calling on God—the kind of pain that makes you have a deeper walk with God—the kind of pain that drives you into His presence—the kind of pain that makes you clean up your life and clean up your act—the kind of pain that makes you come out of your sin and come out of your body. It’s that kind of pain. Have you ever had your heart broken badly enough that you started living right?
The kind of pain that brings about a transition—like the kind of pain that makes you not want to do that anymore. Like when a baby touches something hot—you only have to do that one time. You burn your hand one time, and then they see the baby and tell you «hot.» You don’t have to tell the baby «hot»; the baby will tell you «hot.» Because some things burn so bad when you touch them, you have so much pain that nobody has to preach to you about it again. Nobody has to preach hellfire and brimstone; you touch it, and you get burned so badly that you say «hot.» And it is pain, and it is driving her now. Elkanah speaks to her and says, «Am I not better than ten sons?» He talks her into eating something because she stopped eating altogether. As soon as she gets to the temple, she comes in and lays herself out before God, crying and wailing—a sorrowful spirit and a wounded heart, praying so that her lips were not moving.
Now, I want to set this in context. You have to understand the temple. Now, when she comes into the temple, Eli is there. Eli is a priest who has two sons, Hophni and Phinehas. Hophni and Phinehas are running through the church’s money, having adulterous affairs, and doing all kinds of stuff. Hannah’s on the floor praying in the presence of Eli, who ultimately will break his neck, fall off his throne, and have a grandchild call Ichabod, meaning the glory of the Lord has departed. Yet Hannah finds help in a bad place. A lot of people think that God won’t work until all the conditions are right, but I started off teaching you that God does work in the middle of chaos.
Hannah didn’t get up and say, «Oh my God, I’m leaving this ministry! I’m going to a place; I’m going somewhere else! God can’t work over here! Eli, stand over there! You’re not going to judge your sons! Ultimately, this ministry can’t come down! Ultimately, this is all good!» No, no, no. That wasn’t any of her business. She didn’t care about Eli or what was going on or what she heard. She said, «I’m a woman of a sorrowful spirit, and I’m going to lay out before God because I need help.» Pain is not the only midwife that produces purpose; passion is the other midwife, standing on the other side of the bed. Without the combined mixture of pain and passion, you’ll never be anybody. If you have all passion and no pain, you won’t appreciate it. If you have all pain and no passion, you’ll never do it again. It is a careful mixing of a concoction of pain and passion that produces the promises and purpose of God in your life. Come on, let’s take a look.
Let’s go back to Genesis chapter 3. I want to go back here for a minute. I’m going to go back to Genesis chapter 3, verse 16. I’ll give you just a minute; you’ve got to move faster than that. Genesis 3, verse 16. «And unto the woman He said"—this is God talking to Eve at the beginning after they have fallen and partaken of the forbidden fruit, and He’s now correcting the chaos. Every time we see God, He is correcting chaos. Okay? You see, God is a present help in the time of trouble, not in the time of peace. The Bible is not full of peaceful stories; it’s full of storms, tornadoes, crippled people, dead people in heartbreaking situations, famines, pestilence, and war. The Bible is a bloody book. This isn’t a bedtime story for you to read to your kids at night before they go to sleep. This is full of what it costs to bring about a change. In the text, everything’s in the message. It starts out in the book of the mess; it starts in Genesis, and now God is correcting His children.
«Whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth; He corrects them.» And unto the woman He said—He corrected the man too—without discrimination. He got everybody. He corrected the serpent; He corrected the man; He corrected the woman. But for the purpose of this text, we’ve been talking about a woman, so I’m going to continue talking about a woman. We’re talking about Hannah, but I want to digress for a minute and talk about Eve because I want to show you something. Genesis 3:16: «Unto the woman He said, 'I will greatly multiply thy sorrow.'»
I’m going to make this hurt worse than it would have been. «And thy conception, in this multiplied sorrow, thou shalt bring forth children.» Okay, it was going to be sorrow, but in this multiplied sorrow, thou shalt bring forth children. You shall go rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves, but you can’t go rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves if you don’t go through the he who bears seed shall go forth weeping, bearing precious seed—that weeping part of it. He’s on the weeping part of it. He said, «I will greatly multiply that sorrow and thy conception.»
This is going to hurt, Eve. This is going to hurt. No anesthesia, no epidural, no hospital, nothing to alleviate the pain, nothing to cover. You’re going to have a natural childbirth on your own. It’s going to hurt. In fact, the pain is going to be an indication that the baby is close. Oh, I heard somebody shout all the way over here. Somebody who’s been in a whole lot of pain—that’s only because the baby’s close. The pain is a sign that you’ve got something in you. The pain is a sign that you’re carrying something more important than just you. The pain is a sign that you’ve got a destiny on the inside to fulfill. If you’re not pregnant, you’re not in pain like that. She wasn’t praying until she got pregnant. He said, «I will multiply thy sorrow and thy conception. And sorrow shalt thou bring forth children.» He’s already told her that the promise is in the child, not the bearer of the child; the promise is in the child. No wonder Hannah ends up giving her child to God; the promise is in the child. Away with this narcissistic attitude! «God, you must bless me!»
Sometimes it’s not about you; it’s about your child. It’s about what’s coming after you; it’s about the next generation, it’s about ten generations from now. It’s about the world that we may not even live to see. The promise is in your child. You can’t abort this; you can’t get away from this; you can’t get out of it because it makes you uncomfortable. Your promise is in this. Though the visionary wait for it, in the end, it shall not lie. And God said, «I’m going to multiply your sorrow.» When you have this child, you’re really going to appreciate it, and thou shalt bring forth children. Incidentally, He didn’t say «a child»; He said «children.» Some theologians think that Cain and Abel were twins and not brothers born in order, because not only does He say «bring forth children,» but also because it says Adam knew his wife and she bore a son, and they called his name Cain, and then it says, «And she bore a son, and he called his name Abel.»
There is no «Adam knew his wife again» in between the two. Some theologians think that they may have been twins; this is further evidence, possibly. God shall bring forth children. Then, after the pain stops, after the crying stops, after the heavy breathing stops, after the blood vessels breaking in your jaw stops, after your body starts to close back up again, after you’re holding the baby in your arms again, after you heal again from an episiotomy, after you get back together again and your body closes like it’s supposed to, then it says, «Thy desire shall be to thy husband.» In the same text is pain and passion; these are the midwives of destiny. And I’ll tell you why: if it were all pain and you never had any passion again, that would be the last child the world ever saw after your God. «If you get me out of this, I will never do that again.»
How many times have we prayed that kind of prayer? So, God plants behind the pain the other midwife, which is passion because the return of passion is what causes the recycling of birth. All pain and no passion, you’re one-off. All passion and no pain, there’s no appreciation for what it costs you to deliver. Pain and passion are the midwives of purpose. Are you with me? I want that to sink in; I want that to go real deep because those of you who have been living painful lives have said, «Oh my God, the pain, the pain, the pain, the pain, the pain.»
But there’s passion too! Those of you that have been living in your passions and fulfilling your dreams, sooner or later, you’re going to run into some pain. It can’t be all passion and no pain; it can’t be all pain and no passion. You need a midwife on each side of the bed. You’ve got to have pain and passion. As our days are, the Bible says, «so shall our strength be.» If I’m talking to you today in the midst of the most painful day of your life, or a painful moment, or you lost a loved one, or you lost a job, or you lost a spouse, or even if you lost a child, and the pain is riveting through your heart, and I know you feel like you’ll never smile again, and you’ll never laugh again, and you’ll never get back together again, you’ll never have any peace again, you’ll never have a future; but that’s wrong because when the pain stops—and it will; this is a pain of recovery; it will—here comes the passion, and her desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee.
That rule doesn’t mean dominate; he’s going to cover you. He’s going to protect you; he’s going to lead in God; he’s going to be a part of your life, and you’re going to desire it. I’m going to bring back a natural desire behind a multiplied pain. I don’t know why I feel like I’m talking to somebody; I don’t know who it is. You’ve been through the pain, but you won’t let the desire come back. I’m not talking about having children; I’m talking about the desire to get back in the game, the desire to open up your business again, the desire to minister again, the desire to get into ministry again. For a while, they were talking about church hurt—hashtag church hurt everywhere—church hurt, church hurt. You remember that? Everybody hashtagged «church hurt.» God sent this pandemic. You ain’t heard of it anymore.
About church, because you want to talk about hurt. Sometimes God sends real hurt to make you put things in perspective. Somebody talked about me; they hurt me. They said my dress was too short. They said that the other day. That is the kind of talk from people who will never be fruitful. Then God sent some real pain, and you say that ain’t nothing over there—pain and passion. You need to get back up; you need to get over it. You need to stop being afraid. You need to let passion come back. The same God who allowed the pain to come sets the passion right behind it because they are both midwives for you to give birth to what you’re supposed to have in your life.
Let’s look at this a little bit more. Hannah has come into the temple in pain, but she’s also come in passion too. She wants this child badly. It’s not just jealousy; it’s not just being provoked by Penina. She really, really wants this child so much that she starts out crying at the altar, and she ends up making a vow to God: if you just let me have this child, I’ll give him back to you; no razor shall cut his head. There are only two men in the Bible that we hear talking about the Nazarite vow: one is Samson, and the other is Samuel. She said, I’ll dedicate him over to you all the days of his life. Pain and passion push Hannah into her destiny—pain and passion.
Maybe you’re going back to school; it’s going to be pain and passion. Maybe you’re working a hard job. I’ve worked some really rough jobs in my life—really rough jobs, painful jobs. But for the joy that was laid before me on the 1st and the 15th, I endured the pain. Despising the pain, hating the job, but for the joy of being able to take care of my family, I absolutely did it, and I would do it again. Pain and passion push you into destiny. Whoever told you that you were going to get your dream without pain told you a lie. Even God had to go through pain to redeem us. He went to the cross in pain: «Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?"—my God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me—in pain! Breathing in pain on the cross, He gave His mother away on the cross, thirsting and dying on the cross.
In Acts chapter one, they don’t call it pain; they call it passion. After His passion, He showed Himself alive with many infallible proofs. How could the writer Luke in Acts one call that passion when all I saw was pain? I went to see «The Passion of the Christ.» It was one movie I thought was great—well done. Hats off to Mel Gibson and all the actors; wonderful! But I don’t ever want to see that again. The pain of it, the real drama of it—you couldn’t eat popcorn and watch «The Passion of the Christ.» It was painful. Why in the world did they call it the Passion of the Christ? Because pain and passion are the midwives of destiny. In Acts 1, it’s looking back at it, and Matthew, Mark, and Luke are looking ahead at it. Looking ahead, it looks like pain; looking back at it, it looks like passion, and they were both true. The cross was pain, and it was passion. He said, «I endured the pain because I saw you,» the joy that was set before me.
Oh my God, I wonder who you are that you were the only anesthetic God needed to stay on the cross. With nails in His hands and nails in His feet, and blood coming out of His side, He saw you and said you’re worth it— you who don’t like yourself, you who won’t forgive yourself, you who feel bad about yourself. He looked at you and kept on dying, enduring the pain and shame of the cross for the joy that was set before Him—was you! Wow! He’s giving birth to the church; He’s giving birth to the church out of His side. The first birth was of a man anyway—Adam birthed Eve out of a surgery God did while he was asleep. The last Adam—God birthed the church out of the bleeding side of Jesus.
Here comes the birth of the New Testament church: pain, good God of mercy, and passion are the midwives of purpose. There Hannah is; let’s go back to Hannah, laying on the altar, Eli, who would later be beheaded, almost broke his neck, fall backwards, and break his neck. Significant that he broke his neck, headship is gone; headship is changing. His daughter would hear about it and go into labor and have Ichabod, but he’s still alive now, and he is sitting there near the steps where Hannah is laid out on the floor, and whatever her behavior was like, it was to the point that he thought she was drunk. She said, «No, I am not drunk; I am a woman of a sorrowful spirit, laying my request before God because I want this baby. I brought my pain and my passion to this altar, and it brought her to prayer.»
Pain and passion bring you to prayer. The funny thing about it: passion is painful; unfulfilled passion is painful. So we’ve talked about being provoked, we’ve talked about pain, and we’ve talked about passion. Let’s talk about prayer. Eli told her, «Am I not better to you than ten sons?» He got her to eat something, but he could not ease her pain nor fulfill her passion because some things can only come from God. The Bible says be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, make your requests made known unto God, and the peace of God, which passes all understanding, shall keep your heart and mind. God says the thing that brings peace to pain and passion is making your requests made known unto God—that’s prayer, baby! How’s your prayer life lately?
I’ve already taught you that Elkanah, Hannah, and Penina came up every year, and this was supposed to be like any other year, but prayer changed everything. All the other times they went in there, they made a little sacrifice, they made a little quick prayer, they went on out of there, and everything stayed like it was. But this was the year that changed the world. This is not just about her having a baby; it’s about her birthing a promise.
So prayer is how you birth a promise, but you can’t just sit there in your house and pray. She had to go; she had to travel; she had to sacrifice; she had to endure. «Faith without works is dead» being alone, but ultimately, when she got to praying at that altar like a drunk woman, staggering around, moving her mouth, no audible sound coming out of her mouth, wailing in her spirit, when she got through doing it, I don’t know how long she was down there. I don’t know what kind of movements she made—I don’t know whether she raised her hands, or collapsed on the floor or did all of the above. Whatever she did, she looked like she was drunk.
Eli had never seen anybody act like that in church before except they were drunk. She said, «No, I’m not drunk; I’m not a daughter of Belial. I’m not a daughter of this world; I’m not a secular woman; I’m not an idolatrous woman.» She said, «I’m a praying woman.» When was the last time you prayed till you looked drunk? I know you got degrees. Drop your degrees and get down on your knees and pray and stagger around on the altar before God and ask God to do something about this world because this is supposed to be the year that changes the world.
We have never seen another year like this year. I know we had a pandemic 100 years ago; I know about the Bubonic Plague. I’ve read about all the other instances, but we have never had a plague like this plague that we are having now, in the middle of an economic crisis, in the middle of racial conflict, and the shooting of innocent people in the street, all three things happening at the same time—that’s a lot. That’s a lot of travail; that’s a lot of labor; that’s a lot to take in. People are stressing out; people are having nervous breakdowns; people are getting angry. People who normally got it cool and together are flipping out.
They stayed in the house for weeks and weeks and weeks. They came out to all of these scenes of killing, shooting, and dead bodies stuffed up in 18-wheelers and funeral homes running out of space, and police officers shooting people down, running down the street. Look, this is too much; this kind of multiplied sorrow is supposed to birth something! Ah, it’s supposed to birth something! You can’t have this much sorrow and not birth anything. Got me excited, got me shouting. Something is about to happen; something is about to be birthed! The whole earth is groaning and travailing in pain; something is about to happen! Do you hear what I’m saying to you? I don’t know whether Jesus is getting ready to crack the sky or whether every unfulfilled promise that God ever promised is about to come to pass in a flash, but whatever it is, the whole earth is groaning and travailing in pain.
According to Romans, it’s waiting for the manifestation of the sons of God; it’s waiting for you to come into who you are. For we know that the whole earth groaneth and travaileth in pain until now, waiting for the adoption to the redemption of our body, for the manifestation of the sons of God. The whole world is in labor, shut up in a room like Elizabeth, doors closed. You don’t see this birth. Hannah prayed till God made her a promise: «By this time next year, everything is going to be different.» And she leaves here with the promise of God—not just some sweet by and by, no! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! As soon as she got with Elkanah, the Bible said, «Elkanah knew his wife.» They went in that bedroom, they shut the door, they turned on some Luther, and when she came out of that room, she could tell she was pregnant. That pregnancy, which was the promise of God; I’m talking about the promise of God.
I’m not even worried about birthing it yet. The promise of God was in her womb right then. That was the year that changed the world. That was the year that turned everything around. Had she not gotten pregnant with Samuel, there would be no King Saul; there would be no King David. If there were no King David, there would be no King Jesus. This was the year that changed the world. No wonder her pain was so intense. No wonder her passion was so undeniable. No wonder she had to be provoked like she did. She was about to birth the man who anointed the man to whom Jesus would come, and it started in a little town, around the bend, and over the creek bed. This pregnant woman walking around saying, «Oh, I felt him kick!»
God is going to give you something that you’re going to feel kick on the inside! Hallelujah! A promise, a pregnancy! A pregnancy pregnant with something that the world hasn’t seen. Eyes haven’t seen; ears haven’t heard; neither has it entered into the heart of man the things that God has in store for them that love Him, but it has been revealed unto us by His spirit.
In the midst of all this craziness, I want you to understand that you are pregnant. We are about to give birth through much travail. The Bible says when Zion travails, sons and daughters shall be born. You cannot tell me that God is going to disrupt the whole world—every tongue, every language, every nation, every country—and nothing is going to happen. Something is about to occur. The world cannot see the pregnancy for the pain, but you’re a believer, and as a believer, you must understand that we are in the delivery room.
We see the midwives, the pain, and the passion. We witness the chaos and the confusion; we see all the shaking up of government powers. We see nations marching in the streets worldwide. We must be spiritual enough to recognize that this is bigger than anything we are discussing. There is a pregnancy, there is going to be a delivery, and she is about to give birth to a promise from God. The Lord told me that this year will be a year of double portion. I am holding on to that; I don’t care what we do, where we go, what happens, how bad it gets—something God is going to set in motion this year. This will be the year that changes the world, and you can see it. You can see it in the streets; you can see it in the towns. If Dr. King came back today and saw the whole world marching in the streets—Black folks, Brown folks, White folks, rich folks, poor folks, and all types of people—he would be amazed.
This is not the 60s all over again; this is something else. I was in the 60s, and I remember what it was like. This is not that; this is something different. We have never seen anything like this before. Something is about to happen. Get your Bible and your newspaper, and lay them down side by side. Things are changing. This will be the year that changes the world. What is changing? I don’t know all of it, but I know this is not like any other time we have experienced before. We have gone to the temple before, and I know that Hannah was tumbling around in the temple as if she were drunk. I have never seen it like this before. I know that when Elkanah and she got in that tent, he had never seen anything like that before. Suddenly, Hannah started gaining weight, her ankles began to swell, she started vomiting—she had never done that before. She pushed out Samuel, a little baby, a little boy that she held on to long enough to wean. Then she brought him to the temple with her bullocks, her goats, and her offerings. She sacrificed to God and kept her vow to the Lord: «If you give him to me, I will give him back to you.»
We don’t keep our vows. «Lord, if you just get me out of this; Lord, if you just do this for me; Lord, if you give me this job; Lord, if I get this contract…» We don’t keep our vows. Hannah kept her vow. She brought her baby. Who gives their baby? You always talk about Abraham offering up his son, but before Abraham ever existed, it was a woman who gave her son and brought him to the temple. What woman do you know who longed for a baby all her life takes her living baby in her arms, along with some bullocks and goats, her offerings, and brings it to the temple before God, dedicating it all to Him—the bullock, the goat, and the baby? You might ask, «Why did she wait all that time to have a baby and then turn around and give him to God?» Because He opened her womb, and she continued to give birth again and again and again. If you seek first the kingdom of God, everything else will be added unto you.
Her baby, named Samuel, was just the beginning. Samuel would change the temple she brought him to; he would be the first prophet to speak a voice into the midst of a dysfunctional priesthood. He would be the catalyst through which they would defeat the Philistines. He would anoint the first king of Israel, and later, he would anoint David to be king. David sitting on the throne of Israel is a picture of the Messiah, the coming of Jesus Christ. All of this is built around this one woman. This year changed the world. She had been coming to the temple for years, but there had never been a year like this year. When she brought her bullocks, her goat, and her baby, it wasn’t just to thank God for what He had done; she had the foresight to know that she was sowing a seed against what God was about to do.
I’m going to close this class. We could go on and on; I haven’t even exhausted my scripture. I want to take you to Revelation 12:9-13 and show you more about another pregnant woman against whom the dragon stood and roared. I won’t delve into that, but no matter what the dragon did, he could not stop the woman from having her baby. I don’t care how the dragons rise or how many heads they have; what is in you will still come to pass. Whatever that thing is in you, it might look small or insignificant, but it will have major consequences.
God is shaking the world to set the conditions right, to establish order so that when you give birth to this promise, nobody will rob it, nobody will violate it, nobody will shoot it in the back, and nobody will destroy it. He is opening the womb of your creativity to deliver something in your lifetime that changes the world. Hannah brought her bullock, her goat, and her baby and surrendered it all to the Lord. In return, He opened her womb, and she conceived and was blessed. She waxed strong and grew great. What she received was monumental: the world got David, the world got Jesus, and the world got the rest of the Bible. Because this one year, out of all the years she had been going to the temple, was the year that changed the world.
That’s what this story is about. They went from judges to kings, from priests to prophets. They began receiving prophecies about the Messiah’s coming, which could not have been prophesied until Hannah had this baby. She stayed home and missed the temple; had she not laid out on the altar and cried, it would have been just like any other year. But her prayer, her consecration, and her sowing changed the world.
As I close today, we stand on the precipice of a day unlike any I have ever seen before. Especially in this body, it’s tumultuous, upsetting, and disturbing. The bickering, the murmuring, and the complaining go on and on. The chaos is like nothing I’ve witnessed before. Everybody is marching; in Europe, in Africa, in Canada—it isn’t just California to New York. This year means something—2020 means something.
Now listen to me and hear me well: if you came in late and didn’t get a chance to sow, I challenge you to sow. If you sowed earlier and God stirred you stronger, I challenge you to sow again. This is the year that changes the world, the year that changes everything. This is not business as usual; this is not church as usual. If this were usual, we would be at the Potter’s House right now, having regular service. This is not normal; God shut down everything—every theater, every restaurant, every place in the world, every church at some point was closed. If you don’t see this, you need to get your faith out of the attic, walk it down the steps, dust it off, and bring your offering to the altar. Bring your gift, bring yourself to the altar, and offer it up before God.
Ask God this question: «What role do I play in this year? What would you have me do this year?» I don’t want to just imitate what everyone else is doing. What do I do? Do I drive the vehicle? Do I carry the sacrifice? Do I bring the altar? Do I wrap up the baby? What do you want me to do this year? This is the year that changes the world! No wonder it’s so tough—no wonder my emotions are all over the place. No wonder my rest is broken, and chaos is occurring all around me, causing all kinds of craziness from every direction. This is the year 2020—an amazing, tumultuous, upsetting, disturbing, chaotic, and exciting year that changes the world.
Somebody called me the other day and asked me how I felt, and I didn’t have enough adjectives to explain. I said, «I’m angry, and I’m excited; I’m concerned, and I’m motivated.» I went through a whole list of different feelings that made no sense. This is a year where you can’t even pinpoint how you feel; you can’t define it because we are pregnant and laboring with something. There is a role you must play in this, and God put you in this position for such a time as this. You are not meant to be a bystander, simply watching everything unfold without acting.
If He moved you off your job, say, «Hallelujah!» If He kept you on your job, say, «Hallelujah!» If your business is open, say, «Glory to God!» If it’s shut down, say, «Thank you, Jesus!» God is doing everything according to His good pleasure; He has a plan. I invite you to be a part of it. If you are a backslider, I invite you to give your life to Christ. If you are a sinner, I invite you to give yourself to Jesus. Open your heart, invite Him to be Lord of your life, and know that He died and rose from the dead on the third day so that you can have new birth, new life, new possibilities, new potentials, new futures, new dreams, new concepts, and new ideas.
If you are a believer, I invite you to cast off your laziness, your lackadaisical attitude, your sometimes-on, sometimes-off self. Gather yourself together, bring yourself to sobriety, wake up from your stupor, come to the altar, and bring your gift before God. Worship Him if you need a breakthrough and ask God to open something that had been shut down. The Bible says that the Lord shut her womb; the same God who shut it can open it. If you need that, I invite you to sow and I want to pray over all of you right now, whoever you are, wherever you are, and whatever you’re going through right now that you might discern the times. Something is going on, y’all. Something is happening, and it’s bigger than America. It’s bigger than your community; it’s bigger than race. We don’t even have a word for this. I see as many White people marching in the street as I do Black people. We cannot define this; something is happening.
Little old ladies with walkers are out there walking. Something is happening! People are trying to figure out how to talk about it, how to meet about it, how to get together, and how to resolve it. They don’t have the language for it. Yes, they are saying foolish things that they must retract, absolutely, because this is not like any other year before. They don’t have the language.
Oh, God! Oh, Hallelujah! They don’t have the words to express what God is doing. God is orchestrating this; this is not the work of man. You must get a language, and that language comes through prayer. You must get down on your knees until your spirit speaks as the Spirit of God gives you utterance. You better stop quoting everything you’ve seen on Fox News or CNN and everywhere else. This demands the utterance of the Holy Spirit! Your usual responses will not suffice in this moment. We will have to speak as the Spirit gives utterance.
This is the year that changes everything. This will not be politics as usual; this will not be business as usual. You cannot deploy the same old tricks you used to use to get elected or navigate office. Nothing will work as it used to work. We all must be open to change. Your business cannot remain the same; your church cannot remain the same; your teaching methods must change; your schools must adapt. This is the year that changes the world! Sense that change, that moves as you sow, as you give.
Whether you’re laying your life, your bullets, or your goats on the altar or coming back to God, I want to pray with every last one of you that you will find your place this year and that you would discover your position in God’s purpose. I pray that you would move into your destiny, that every yoke would be broken, and that God would open the womb of your life, enabling you to bring forth fruit like never before. What all that fruit means, I don’t know. For some, it might be a book; for others, it might be ministry, and some of it might be things I don’t even know a name for. God is going to do some things for you that have not been seen before. Your creativity needs to be loosed; you need to get rid of your bitterness. You must let go of that bitterness; keep your anger. Be angry all you want, for the Bible says to be angry but sin not.
Let go of that cynical attitude; you must give it to God. I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know—I can’t even look at the screen sometimes; the images are so bad, I can hardly stand it. This isn’t like any other year we’ve ever seen before. Can I pray with you? Can I pray over your dreams, your future, your children that you’re raising, your children yet to be born, the lives you touch, and the things you say? What are you using your Facebook for? What are you using your Twitter for? What are your gifts going towards? What are you doing?
This is the year for you to find your place and use your platform like never before. I don’t care what the naysayers say or what they write, and I don’t care what they post on your Facebook; I don’t care what they do. This is the year for you to discover the role you’re meant to play, for this is a year that changes the world. This year will go down in history; it will be written in the books. My grandchildren will be talking about it when I’m gone. This is the year that changes the world, and they’ll write about it in Mandarin, English, Spanish, and Portuguese. They will write about it in every language and in every time; not one part of the world will say it didn’t touch them. This year, open your eyes, open your eyes. Let me pray with you, and I’ll let you go.
Sweet Holy Spirit, sweet heavenly dove, stay right here with us, filling us with your love. Oh God, we come to You right now in the name of Jesus. You are God, and besides You, there is no other. We raise our hands; You have arrested us. We come out with our hands raised in total surrender and submission to whatever You want us to do. Even though some of us have been afraid of Your will, Your purpose, and the future, worrying about this and being angry about that, this is not about how we feel. This is about what You have ordained to happen on earth. This is the year that changes the world. Whatever You’re doing in this season, please, please, please don’t do it without us. Whatever You’re doing, don’t do it without us.
Forgive the backslider right now while they’re praying—while she’s praying, while Grandma’s praying, while that drunk is praying, while that crackhead is praying, while that wino is praying. We could forgive them right now in the name of Jesus. While they’re praying right now, forgive them; wash them, cleanse them. You have a role for them to play. This is the year that changes the world. Put preachers in their place, leaders in their place, presidents in their place, kings in their place, governors, and magistrates, and get rid of politics as usual— all the lies, trickery, and games. All of it is witchcraft; be gone in the name of Jesus.
I thank You now for a clear path, an open womb, and an open door. I thank You for breaking yokes and breaking bondages, bringing order out of chaos, and I thank You that You’re going to change injustice. I thank You that justice will come down like mighty streams of water. I thank You for the power, the prince of peace, and the glory—all belong to You. I thank You that we will never be the same again, and I thank You because I lay on the altar everything I ever did, everything I ever built, and everything I ever had. Do what You want to do; take what You want to take; move what You want to move. I don’t have any sacred cows; I don’t have anything I can’t walk away from. I don’t have anything I can’t surrender. It’s all available to You.
If You want to use buildings, You can use buildings; if You want to use technology, You can use technology; if You want to use television, You can use television; if You want to use drama, You can use drama. If You want us all to be in cars at a movie theater, You can do whatever You want to do—just don’t do it without me. I want to be a part; I don’t even have to be the preacher; I can be the usher. I want to be a part of whatever You’re getting ready to do in the earth. Do not leave us out, I pray in the name of Jesus, as we sow, as we plan, and as we give. The yokes would be broken off our minds, our thinking, and our attitudes because whatever You’re doing is bigger than any thought we’ve ever had, bigger than any dream we’ve ever dreamed, bigger than any idea we’ve ever conceived.
This is global; this is all-encompassing; this is reaching everybody. This is in the air, the wind, and the atmosphere; this is big. Whatever You’re doing, just don’t do it without us. I pray that You would melt every stony heart, and I pray that You would destroy the yoke of bigotry and prejudice wherever it exists, even if it’s living in a house where the person doesn’t even know that they have it. Break it down, melt it down in white folks, black folks, and brown folks. Wherever You see injustice, bigotry, and wherever You see plots and plans to hurt, kill, and maim what You have created, crush it. Crush it!
Whoever’s trying to stop it, crush every obstacle until life is given, until we don’t have to beg to breathe, until we can trust the people we appoint. We know they’re human, we know they’re flawed, we know they’re nervous; we know they have unreasonable things to deal with. We just want them to be human, with human compassion. Give us politicians who really care about what’s going on in our lives, in every level of government, in every level—district attorneys everywhere. Give us righteousness, give us peace, give us power, and let this be the year to change this world. Let it be something we insist on. Every CEO, every leader, every company owner, every business person, and every individual listening to me right now— in drama, acting, film, music, poetry, hip-hop, and every range—let everyone use their gifts to push this baby out. In Jesus' name, amen.
Forgive the backslider right now while they’re praying—while she’s praying, while Grandma’s praying, while that drunk is praying, while that crackhead is praying, while that wino is praying. We could forgive them right now in the name of Jesus. While they’re praying right now, forgive them; wash them, cleanse them. You have a role for them to play. This is the year that changes the world. Put preachers in their place, leaders in their place, presidents in their place, kings in their place, governors, and magistrates, and get rid of politics as usual— all the lies, trickery, and games. All of it is witchcraft; be gone in the name of Jesus.
I thank You now for a clear path, an open womb, and an open door. I thank You for breaking yokes and breaking bondages, bringing order out of chaos, and I thank You that You’re going to change injustice. I thank You that justice will come down like mighty streams of water. I thank You for the power, the prince of peace, and the glory—all belong to You. I thank You that we will never be the same again, and I thank You because I lay on the altar everything I ever did, everything I ever built, and everything I ever had. Do what You want to do; take what You want to take; move what You want to move. I don’t have any sacred cows; I don’t have anything I can’t walk away from. I don’t have anything I can’t surrender. It’s all available to You.
If You want to use buildings, You can use buildings; if You want to use technology, You can use technology; if You want to use television, You can use television; if You want to use drama, You can use drama. If You want us all to be in cars at a movie theater, You can do whatever You want to do—just don’t do it without me. I want to be a part; I don’t even have to be the preacher; I can be the usher. I want to be a part of whatever You’re getting ready to do in the earth. Do not leave us out, I pray in the name of Jesus, as we sow, as we plan, and as we give. The yokes would be broken off our minds, our thinking, and our attitudes because whatever You’re doing is bigger than any thought we’ve ever had, bigger than any dream we’ve ever dreamed, bigger than any idea we’ve ever conceived.
This is global; this is all-encompassing; this is reaching everybody. This is in the air, the wind, and the atmosphere; this is big. Whatever You’re doing, just don’t do it without us. I pray that You would melt every stony heart, and I pray that You would destroy the yoke of bigotry and prejudice wherever it exists, even if it’s living in a house where the person doesn’t even know that they have it. Break it down, melt it down in white folks, black folks, and brown folks. Wherever You see injustice, bigotry, and wherever You see plots and plans to hurt, kill, and maim what You have created, crush it. Crush it!
Whoever’s trying to stop it, crush every obstacle until life is given, until we don’t have to beg to breathe, until we can trust the people we appoint. We know they’re human, we know they’re flawed, we know they’re nervous; we know they have unreasonable things to deal with. We just want them to be human, with human compassion. Give us politicians who really care about what’s going on in our lives, in every level of government, in every level—district attorneys everywhere. Give us righteousness, give us peace, give us power, and let this be the year to change this world. Let it be something we insist on. Every CEO, every leader, every company owner, every business person, and every individual listening to me right now— in drama, acting, film, music, poetry, hip-hop, and every range—let everyone use their gifts to push this baby out. In Jesus' name, amen.