Monday, February 11, 2008

A Prophecy

Friday, February 8, 2008; 8:30 a.m. ET

My phone rang, though not its typical tune; it was Melody 3, which I reserve for calendar appointments. I flipped open the device to see what was planned.

Typically, my phone alarm tells me when to wake up or if I have a breakfast date with someone. I've given up on the handwritten day planner; I prefer digital reminders and backlit screens. On more important dates, e.g., wife's birthday, I might also thumb in a notice, selecting a Ringtone that matches the event. Today's "event" fit none of the above.

Some time ago (before the foundation of the world, perhaps) the words Prophecy--church shift were logged into my phone calendar. Today at 8:30 I was reminded that this shift was immanent. When I upgraded to the V-CAST, double-flip screen, I had no idea of its capabilities.

A few things concern me about this prophecy:
  • I have no recollection of ever storing this information in my phone;
  • if I'm not the author of this prophetic utterance, I don't know whom to stone;
  • 'church shift' is unfortunately vague; however, it sounds more ominous than the Men's Breakfast I had scheduled the next morning;
  • I'm not sure if the church mentioned is Leesburg GBC, or the one, holy, catholic Church;
  • and now I'm divining the air for unusual scents.
Predictive prophecy has this effect: confusion, superstition, sign-seeking, and general unrest. This, of course, is as much a reflection of the interpreter as the message. I likely speak for myself, but a chamber of my heart is dedicated to confusion, superstition, sign-seeking, and unrest.

Another chamber of my heart, then, rushes to make sense of things. It places predictions on timelines and weds them with headlines on Fox News. It coordinates them with dispensation charts, midrashic margin notes, and provides cross-references to LaHaye and Rosenberg. Making order of chaos, sense of disparate stimuli, is a reflection of the imago Dei.

But until the time has passed, and the prophecy becomes a backwards glance, it's difficult to feel certainty. I await clarity, or try to force it. I manufacture fulfillments like Da-Lite screens. I go to the church building and rearrange furniture.

Predictive prophecy begs for resolution with granite-filled hands (Duet 18:20-22).

I suppose I should type a reminder into my phone to reconsider February 8th's prophecy in light of its recent history. Until then, I'll survey the current setting of church to see if the spring thaw moves its foundation. The more literal the prediction the better.

(NOTE: If you are the dubious prophet who tampered with my phone, please let me know so I can go back to leading this church without being so paranoid. I promise I'll put my stone down.)


Jake said...

Hey, PT, I really enjoy reading your posts... I just created a blogspot for my random (mostly football-related) brain droppings, if you feel like checking it out, id really appreciate it!


Real Life said...

Hey Tim;
Check again and see the remaining chapters of LIfe on the Street - there are nine posted tomorrow and then the last one the next day.
"They vill be there." (Ocean's Eleven)
Thanks - see ya.