Archive for the ‘Evangelicalism’ Tag

50 Year Old Prophecy from Tozer   6 comments

prophets

PROPHETIC WORD FROM 50 YEARS AGO – A. W. TOZER

“Let me go out on a limb a little bit and prophesy. I see the time coming
when all the holy men whose eyes have been opened by the Holy Spirit will
desert worldly Evangelicalism, one by one. The house will be left desolate
and there will not be a man of God, a man in whom the Holy Spirit dwells,
left among them.

“I hear Jesus saying . . . Matt 23: 37-38: ‘O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the one killing
the prophets and stoning those who are sent to her, how often would I have
gathered your children together, even as a hen gathers her chicks under her
wings, and you would not! Behold, your house is left to you desolate.’

“As the Church now stands, the man who sees this condition of worldly
evangelicalism is written off as somewhat fanatical. But the day is coming
when the house will be left desolate and there will not be a man of God
among them. I would like to live long enough to watch this develop and see
how things turn out. I would like to live to see the time when the men and
woman of God—holy, separated and spiritually enlightened—walk out of the
evangelical church and form a group of their own; when they get off the
sinking ship and let her go down in the brackish and worldliness and form a
new ark to ride out the storm.”

The above quote was from A Call To The Remnant

O Jerusalem, Jerusalem
Scribes and Prophets
Bankruptcy of the inner man

_____

Shiloh
By Tim Shey

Brutal deathdance;
My eyes weep blood.
Pharisees smile like vipers,
They laugh and mock their venom:
Blind snakes leading
The deaf and dumb multitude.

Where are my friends?
The landscape is dry and desolate.
They have stretched my shredded body
On this humiliating tree.

The hands that healed
And the feet that brought good news
They have pierced
With their fierce hatred.

The man-made whip
That opened up my back
Preaches from a proper pulpit.
They sit in comfort:
That vacant-eyed congregation.
The respected, demon-possessed reverend
Forks his tongue
Scratching itchy ears
While Cain bludgeons
Abel into silence.

My flesh in tattered pieces
Clots red and cold and sticks
To the rough-hewn timber
That props up my limp, vertical carcase
Between heaven and earth.
My life drips and puddles
Below my feet,
As I gaze down dizzily
On merciless eyes and dagger teeth.

The chapter-and-versed wolves
Jeer and taunt me.
Their sheepwool clothing
Is stained black with the furious violence
Of their heart of stone.
They worship me in lip service,
But I confess,
I never knew them
(Though they are my creation).

My tongue tastes like ashes:
It sticks to the roof of my mouth.
I am so thirsty.
This famine is too much for me.
The bulls of Bashan have bled me white.
Papa, into your hands
I commend my Spirit.

Ethos
February/March 1997
Iowa State University

Genesis 49: 10: “The scepter shall not depart from Judah, nor a lawgiver from between his feet until Shiloh come; and unto him shall the gathering of the people be.”

Shiloh
A Prophet’s Eyes
Locusts and Wild Honey