I did a thing. Started posting on a YouTube channel. The Lord has been bombarding me with visions and dreams with prophetic words meant for other people. I asked him what he wanted me to do with them all. He spoke to my heart about sharing the prophetic words through video. I’d been dragging my feet on the idea, because I couldn’t see myself buckling up in a car or down in a living room to record my talking. I’m just not that chatty. Long story short, something came about. I have a communication channel that fits how he’s created me to express. Still, it's a bit of a learning curve, as I’m not too technically inclined, and I had some nerves to iron out. But I’ve learned to do a lot of things in life by just starting, facing trials and errors, while having a limited budget. My YouTube material is a small beginning, and very fresh—not quite a week old—but had to start somewhere, so here I am. Turns out, though, I really like the process. I find flow and creativity in the undertaking. And I get a good Holy Spirit soak while I create these videos, asking for guidance and anointing as I go. Social media pages are in development, as well, as this will not be a “Tessa Stockton” entity. It is its own, and I believe the start-up of a ministry. I most likely won’t be sharing much here from there, and so wanted to invite you to visit, watch, subscribe, like—whatever or however the Lord leads. I hope to be posting content regularly via YouTube at this time, or as the Lord continues to give me visions and dreams meant to be shared. You can find me on YouTube at (click on the banner below): An intercessor’s life is peculiar. We require a lot of quiet and reflective time, praying, fasting, pushing aside things—sometimes important things—in a moment’s notice when the Holy Spirit prompts. We are dedicated, reliable, sensitive, sacrificial, and disciplined. Some of the requests, places in the spirit world the Lord wants us to stand-in-the-gap over, can be wild stuff. We are enabled to see through God’s eyes regarding particular details. Sometimes we get a glimpse of the fruit of our labors, oft times we don’t, but we do this thing called intercession anyway. I love my life of intercessory prayer because it’s more time spent with the Lord. The process heightens how we hear his voice; it expands how we depend on him. And it’s for the sake of others. Heart for God; heart for his people. But we’ve all had our struggles with the calling. The hardest part for me is finding balance… the fine line between being empathetic while you’re pouring yourself out over an assignment and investing in someone else’s spiritual journey, and remaining objective so that the process doesn’t consume you. Intercessors often operate under a sense of need to help others. It gets heated, intense sometimes, especially when coming against principalities and demonic warfare. It’s emotional. I am an all-or-nothing person. This makes me a committed and fervent prayer warrior; also, a basket-case when an assignment lifts or concludes, where I’m wandering about without aim or inspiration. We have to learn how to trust in between commitments, stay prayed up and not let our guard down, and be obedient in letting go. For it all belongs to the Lord, from the beginning to the end. Occasionally I’ve had assignments I wish I hadn’t, with awful warfare, and felt relieved to get through them. Yet the biggie for me more often is letting go. Because I still feel tied to circumstances and people I’ve prayed for, in a personal way—especially if it lasts for months or years. An example of this is when, not that long ago, a maritime assignment lifted. My spiritual obligation over this one lasted quite a while, and it was a journey, as some of you might already know. It began with the Holy Spirit alerting me to specific seaports, then ships and crewmembers. And I prayed over a whole gamut of conditions and seafarers (also floating church planting and port outreaches). Near the end of this task, the Holy Spirit would give me the name of a ship and where geographically it was positioned. Found these nifty little apps that can track ships, so discovering each of these named vessels was like a treasure hunt, and a joyous confirmation of the Lord’s lead. Each called out ship was exactly as the Lord said it was and where. He also gave me Words of Knowledge to understand what the vibe was on board, the spirits, the challenges, the sailors… and sometimes who might the Lord want covered in a specific way. I knew via the Holy Spirit when he gave me the name of the latest vessel, that it would be my last—at least within this format at this time. Understood that my prayer voyage here would lift at this ship’s next port. It was so very sweet when I discovered my last port of call would be Seattle. My hometown. I’ve lived in East Tennessee for so long it’s home to me now, too. But I grew up in Seattle. It’s still my home. I prayed, and watched via satellite in real time, as the tugboats came along and assisted this vessel into the Port of Seattle—arrived! It felt like a homecoming party. I celebrated. And these people, this crew, had no idea a crazy intercessor was praying for them, watching them, fasting on their behalf (or maybe they did, as the Lord told me there were firm believers on board). I always wonder, does somebody sense it when a prayer warrior across the oceans has gone up to bat for them? Fasting and praying, fighting and rejoicing? Probably many someone’s, as I’m not the only spiritual-crazy out there. But… then it was sad for me to let go. I felt invested in the task. I also stretch and grow during these times. The Lord takes me through a journey, asking if I’d do this or that, how much am I willing to commit, how far will I follow his lead? I also have to press in sometimes for clarity, just to understand if I’d heard God correctly. By the way, the Lord has a very special love for seafarers. They were his first choice as his disciples. Well, another commission came fast on the heels (stern) of that last ship. For the Lord clarified that many in my missionary/ministry circle were in or are walking into a new season. We are all in different seasons; rather, varying places within the same season I’m inclined to think. But it seems almost everybody I know has been in a series of whirlwinds to prepare, get ready, and launch or expand into something greater, different, or newer. I’ve been watching and interceding over these launches, committed to holding their arms up like Aaron to Moses and prayed as the Spirit guided. I get to pray often for those beginning new ministries—and I love that. While praying on the phone with somebody recently who was experiencing frustrating hindrances, I got a vision, and in fact had the same vision for a handful of people. We prayed it through, knocking down the demonic gatekeepers and obstacles, and asked for an angels’ charge to carry them onward. We received instant results. Thank you, victorious and glorious God! Now, many of those I know who are being sent have begun, are all set; at least for now. And I rejoiced. I also grieved. I spend much of my time uplifting others, interceding for others, watching them go, and celebrating with them. And I’ll be there for them when they need a supportive, praying sister. But sometimes, the lowly human in me gets caught up in the flurry and then feels left behind. I wish I was the one going. I wish I was commissioned to go out in the field. I’d had that calling once. Perceived God’s call into ministry when I was a young child. Later answered the call and went into full-time ministry through Christian performing arts and worldwide missions. I really enjoyed the field, thrived in challenging environments and all. It was a good fit for my fundamental nature of yearning to absorb adventure, travel, and that deep love for different peoples and cultures. I flubbed up when I stepped away from that path, when I never should have—and God didn’t ask me to. Rather, I didn’t seek him, just did my own thing. I’ve since come to terms with my decisions/mistakes that put a cement stop to all the “moving around” kind of ministry. Repented. Made good with serving the Lord in the best way that I can under my circumstances. I’ve sought his face, pursued his heart. I’ve been obedient. Have written a lot. Realized that I’d learned things I wouldn’t have had I not gone through the erring and wandering ways. Found humility in a place of despair, among a myriad of better things from a firmer Biblical perspective. The entire development has made me stronger. For that, I’m grateful. And I feel called again. Actually, I’m not sure the calling ever left… even if one walks away from it for a time (a long time) in life. For in Romans 11:29, it says, “For the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable.” Irrevocable: “not able to be changed, reversed, or recovered; final” So, no, maybe I’m not picking up on somebody else’s radio frequencies. They’re my signals, intended for me. If the Almighty called me once, the call is still there. And stirring. One of these days, it will be my turn to go, to embark again on a very real-life, real-time, hands-on way, and he’s going to blow my mind when he does it. And instead of my saying with spiritual eyes, “He’s doing that thing over there.” It will be with both spiritual and natural eyes, “He’s doing this thing over here,” and I’ll be reporting about it from somewhere online. When my confession grows into my testimony. Last Thursday, another call-to-prayer over someone lifted. Right after, a cloud of oppression dropped over me. It was heavy, thick crud, and I couldn’t shake the rot off. And that’s just like the creepoid enemy; when the devil sees a vulnerability, he’ll seize the opportunity. Lasted for several hours. It was all I could do to listen to worship music and utter (even when I didn’t feel like it) “Thank you, Jesus.” Then the attack cleared with a snap (hey, maybe someone from afar was praying for me! Sure felt like I had help, and if so, thank you…) and I praised the Lord freely. But I did ask then of my savior, “Lord, what’s next for me?” And I didn’t mean a prayer assignment from my confined seat or closet. He gave me a vision. I saw a fortified, thick-beamed entranceway. I’d been in a dark space, and this large, bold door appeared. It was holy. I think it was already there, but it only just became visible to me. There were two tubular neon-ish lights, each distinct, yet wrapped around the door and pulsating together like the aurora borealis. I could also hear and feel the pulsating energy. The one in front was rich red, the one behind was sapphire blue; the thick frame between was white. So it appeared like a living triplet of stripes… two separate and distinct colors welded together and supported by this strong inner/middle white frame. Through to the other side, steps away, was bright, beaming, living light; fluctuating and revolving as if a hundred lighthouses of holy fire. It sliced darkness. Took my breath away, especially with the sense of purpose and joy that came with this powerful vision. I wanted more, to learn more. In one word, I asked him, “Lord?” And he gave me one word for now: “Apostolic.” And so there it is. You’ve heard it from me here. You’ll hear again from me from there. One day. Soon. Yesterday, I posted about varied and unlimited styles of prophetic boldness, focusing on the word boldness. Boldness doesn’t have to mean loud and commanding, as I’d once thought. That for the introverted types, boldness can come in the style of taking risks confidently yet still quietly. Communication of God’s message that is strong, vivid, and full of truth can have a delivery that looks a lot of different ways. The gifts of the Spirit are variedly special and purposeful. It's not about us, but about God’s love expressed through us that encourages and motivates others. With that said, there is a prophet who has spoken into my life already several times and affirmed visions and promises of God. I so appreciate his demeanor; his soft-spoken, humble words of truth, love, peace, and trust. I now subscribe to his YouTube channel and listen to his Daily Prophetic Word and more. Encouraging, edifying, sweet, full of God’s tender love and light. I’m taking comfort along my journey with his lovely gift of prophetic boldness. It’s good medicine to have a true prophet of God speaking into your life with words of hope and affirmation (“A happy heart is good medicine and a joyful mind causes healing…” Proverbs 17:22). I consider several to be prophets of edification in my daily walk. Kevin Bridges is one who I’ve only recently discovered, but who speaks of God’s love in a compassionate and serene style that is nurturing to my soul. He is a calm conduit of hope and encouragement. So I thought I’d share his channel information. If you’re like me, a quiet and reflective one, you might like to listen to his inspired words, too. https://www.youtube.com/@KevinBridgesDP/featured I also just finished reading his poetic book, and of course I recommend it: With Love: Loving Words from Father God by Kevin Paul Bridges Be ever blessed with words that inspire. God’s beauty hovers over everything good and pure. His lovingkindness dwells in whoever would seek his presence. In any kind of situation, he is there to shield and protect. He is omnipotent (all-powerful), omnipresent (ever-present), and omniscient (all-knowing); the three Omnis: power, presence, and perception. Three aspects of God reminiscent of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Truths to bear us comfort and nurturing from the Creator of the Universe. If there are different aspects of God, and from that trinity hosts of characteristics outflowing, then surely the witnesses of his believers come in an assortment of styles. I think too often the religious mindset would rather put the operations of God in a box, be it for control of others, luxury of familiarity, or appearance. So would you blow up boxes for the sake of Creator if he asked you to step out and do something different? History has given us a number of prophetic examples; legendary individuals thought of as a bit off, weird to their general populace. Yet, I admire the risk they took for doing something it took courage to do. By shedding man’s judgment rather than miss out on God’s blessings, we grow further into his kingdom and in the gifts of the Spirit. Just as there are variances in personalities and mannerisms, there are manifestations of holy messages and expressions of the divine meant to edify and encourage. There’s a place for every body and a slant from each person but not one angle for everybody. Because we’re all created distinctively and are not the same body part; we are multiple parts working together for one purpose. Growing up, I had way more exposure to loud or fiery prophets in evangelistic spheres. The more the spirit came upon these saints to speak, the volume went up—megaphones not needed! It exhilarated sometimes, but often I felt this: I’m touched by the Lord, gifted by the Lord in the prophetic, as we all are or can be. We all have access to the voice of God and to his gifts. 1 Corinthians 14:1 says, “Let love be your highest goal! But you should also desire the special abilities the spirit gives—especially the ability to prophecy.” Another version of this scripture I favor comes from the Aramaic Bible in Plain English, “Run after love and be zealous for the gifts of The Spirit, but especially that you may prophecy.” But I’d thought many times that if I didn’t behave as these fiery prophets did, or my exhortation didn’t match the volume, then I wasn’t excited enough, impassioned enough, or touched enough. And with that, I tended to withdraw or hide. Because I also didn’t know that other styles of prophets existed in my generation. Why wouldn’t they? When the Bible gives us such a diverse picture of the various prophets in stories of old? Prophesy isn’t available to only foretell the future, or warn, but it’s God revealed through someone for someone. God is speaking a message and if the prophecy is of God, it will affirm what the Lord already spoke to your heart. It’s personal. Prophecy, and Word of Knowledge (of which I most operate), are meant to encourage and edify. Love is primary. And the Lord loves each one of us as each one of us. I’ve since discovered those who operate in the gifts of the Spirit who deliver in a reflective, gentle way. This speaks to me the most and ushers in healing properties, something to which I’m perhaps more receptive. I’ve learned that there is tenderness in prophetic boldness, too. Prophetic boldness doesn’t have to mean loud or authoritatively imposing; it can be quiet boldness… or prophetic quietness (calm). A confidence to speak, do, or act out—but acting out doesn’t have to mean waving arms and shouting loud—because sometimes loud isn’t motivating to those on the quieter side of perception. If I’ve considered this, then there are others who have wondered about it, too. So I wanted to encourage those who have prophetic tendencies or desires, and want to step out, take a risk, yet you are on the introverted side of humanity. Sure, we’re a minority (it’s estimated that 25-50% of the population is introverted), but we matter. If you are extroverted, great! Express how the Lord gifted you to express. But if you’re a soft-spoken one, and tend to tread gently through life, you are as much needed to communicate to others God’s message of love. If you prefer to dive into the silent deep, and in the depth of the waters to still a person’s soul and speak only what the Father wants you to speak, sing, or write to them, then… Most likely, your receivers are those who don’t find extroverted extensions as reassuring or effective as others might. God’s communication is his communication… and his message will be proclaimed. Still, there’s a reason (many reasons) why we are uniquely and wonderfully made. You might reach a person through your style or format or understanding that nobody else can reach. And that matters. Leave the 99 to find the 1 (Parable of the Lost Sheep, Matthew 18:10-14 and Luke 15:3-7). I knew of an elderly lady who had a green thumb. She loved plants and had a way with them. This dear lady lived on a hill that I drove by almost daily on my way out to the mountain stables where I kept my horse. She’d cut shapes into her hedges, and arrange flower pots, large and small, into images symbolic of telling the Bible story. She was an artist, an artist of plants. She was also prophetic, because more often than not, I’d see a peace dove, or the cross, an angel, the ark, or what looked like a scribe bent near holy flames of fire—Moses’ burning bush! —and more. And it confirmed the voice of the Lord having whispered to my heart either earlier or later that day or even that week or month or season—and I’m not even much of a fan of manicured landscaping. Yet, seeing the images shaped from hedges and plants of her lawn and field speaking a carefully laid out message, well, it was affirming, healing, comforting, and directional. Inspired. I’d say anointed. Love poured off that hill by the hands and heart of that godly elder woman I’d never met. How many more lives had she touched than just mine while she used what she was gifted with, right where she was, to share this meticulous beauty, the emblematic Spirit reminders, with others? I now often think of those walking in faith, and in the prophetic, as conduits for God’s Word in different shapes, sizes, colors, polishes, and purposes. When you’re right where you’re meant to be, and you create, express, arrange, and stir in the way God created you, then your style of the Lord-inspired prophetic boldness is refreshing as rain to someone who needs it; one who needs encouraged by a message from God through your participation of love. As lovely as a hedge of green under somebody’s skilled and thoughtful hands. Called to plant seed, grow, sculpt, or harvest? Do it your way in God’s way. There was once a person who hadn’t intended to be a bomb technician and wished they were something—anything—else. If only they could’ve predicted or seen from the beginning what they knew later, their life would have looked very different. They weren’t always skilled at identifying dangerous devices in a threatened area nor deactivating or disassembling the explosives. In fact, they got their start as the cleanup crew of only one, taking care of whole messes after they erupted, clearing the damage and spaces of shrapnel and debris. Even acting as a paramedic and patching wounds, deep or small. A rota never existed; nobody was scheduled to relieve them. They’d been all alone dealing with the volatile environment 24/7. They worked their way up to recognizing and diffusing danger, got good at it, skilled. Turned something destructive into something more static. Sometimes, though, sometimes they deflected the disparaging elements. Wedged a portion under a dead tree stump; hiding it from the public because of shame. Because their position, which never should have evolved in the first place, went on for too long, and what they daily faced proved hard to endure. The pressure behind such things never dissipated; in fact, felt insurmountable. But what they tucked under that dead old stump didn’t just collect into a mound of rubble. Instead, the start of a sprig, something tender, fresh, and green pierced from beneath the hard ground and unforgiving places of concrete and gravel. The sprig became a new tree, and the living trunk grew wide and strong. Its roots went deep to where the black soil provided rich nutrients. The mighty cedar soon towered over the hidden things that had wrought such chaos and, in fact, smothered the negative forces. It overpowered cannonballs, dynamite, and other fused components, detoxifying, purifying as it reached toward the heavens. Its branches spread open and wide, providing shade to the scorched and shelter to the displaced. Its call was for helping others, but in a way that differed from thwarting disasters, especially of the human-terrorist type. Yet growing well while stuck in that unstable environment provided it the understanding necessary to gain essential nourishment and peace of the everlasting kind, and safety for the distressed. It thought its field wherein it’d planted its roots was fallow. Instead, its field had been prepared for the splendor of an entire forest of breathtaking beauty. “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” Isaiah 43:19 Dear Bomb Technician: He makes a way where there is no way. He makes all things fresh, new, and different. Things will change. You’ve sensed this; you’ve known things have to change. Situations, while they lasted for many seasons, will not stay the same. If the hazardous devices you face are from a cyclical circumstance, work, relationship, or condition, and you’re burned out, tired of putting out the fuses alone, and sick of being so achingly lonely while doing it; lift up your eyes. Soak in the Spirit. Listen to the wind, which causes the leaves of the wilderness to dance and branches to sway in delirious freedom. Inhale the woodsy scents of other cedars. Lift your eyes to the heavens and know the promises whispered to your heart will rain down upon you. The Spirit is like the wind. You don’t know from where it comes, from where it starts, but SUDDENLY, it’s there, flowing over you, refreshing your soul. Sailing you into crystal waters, brighter beginnings, enhanced positions, thoughtful relationships, and greatest joy, where the deepest longings of your heart find fulfillment. Expansion awaits, for all that your spirit-filled life can hold and release, grow and heal, and love. “The righteous will flourish like a palm tree, and grow like a cedar in Lebanon.” Psalm 92:12 |
Tessais a storyteller, and a transcript editor. She's also a Romans 8:28 kind of Jewish girl ... For Tessa's new
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