A Prophet Isn’t Welcome…
One Wednesday night at Bible study, I was sitting in the front row of the church with Pastor James MacKnight, waiting for the service to begin. We were talking and getting ready for the evening when a young man walked up right in front of us.
He’d been struggling with some mental health challenges, and over the previous weeks he’d been coming to the services and sharing what he believed were prophetic messages. The problem was that some of what he was saying was becoming inappropriate for the setting and was creating confusion and wasn’t sitting well with me.
I had already met with him privately. I wanted to be gracious and honour what the young man believed God was showing him, while also explaining that not every message he felt he was receiving needs to be shared publicly. I asked him to hold what he felt he had to say and to come to talk with me first. It was an attempt to create both a boundary and a safe place for him.
So, on this particular Wednesday night, this young man came to church with a mission. He came into the auditorium and walked straight up in front of Pastor MacKnight and me. Without saying a word, he lifted one foot, slapped the dust from his shoe, did the same with the other, and then stomped away.
Pastor MacKnight looked at me and said,
“Did he just do what I think he did?”
I started laughing.
“I think so.”
It was one of those moments where you almost couldn’t believe what you had just witnessed.
And yet, strangely enough, his demonstration actually has a biblical reference behind it.
Jesus told His disciples that when they entered a town or home and people refused to welcome or listen to them, they were to “shake the dust off” their feet and move on (Matthew 10:14).
I’m pretty sure that wasn’t exactly what Jesus had in mind that Wednesday night. But the moment did remind me of something important about ministry: we have to learn the difference between embracing people and embracing everything they do.
The church should be a place where people are welcomed, especially people who are struggling, hurting, or trying to find their way. We don’t want to shut people down simply because they are different from us or because their gifts don’t look like ours.
We believe in the gifts of the Holy Spirit. We believe God speaks. We believe people can be used by God. But we also believe in discernment.
Paul tells us that when prophetic words are shared, they’re to be weighed and discerned (1 Corinthians 14:29). In other words, just because someone says, “God told me,” that doesn’t mean leadership is required to automatically accept it or broadcast it.
That’s where pastoral leadership gets complicated.
Sometimes loving someone means encouraging their gift. Sometimes it means teaching them how to use that gift responsibly. And sometimes, it means saying, “Not here. Not now. Let’s talk about this first.” If the person has a good attitude, they’ll receive it well. Sadly that’s not always the case.
This isn’t rejection. It’s protection.
A church leader has a responsibility not only to the individual standing in front of them, but also to the people sitting in the room. We have to think about what builds faith, what brings clarity, what protects vulnerable people, and what keeps the focus on Jesus rather than on someone’s personal revelation or behaviour.
It’s possible to be open to the supernatural and still be discerning. It’s possible to believe in prophecy and still test prophetic words. It’s possible to love people and still establish a boundary. In our early years of ministry we heard some wild things spoken in church. In our first year of ministry we heard a guy tell a story about a vision he had of the Lord. “I knew it was He,” the man said, “cause He had a banner on His chest that said, ‘I is the Saviour.’” Apparently Jesus has poor grammar.
And sometimes, if we’re honest, leadership means having a difficult conversation that nobody really wants to have. No one likes having these conversations but, at times, you have to.
I wasn’t trying to tell this young man that God couldn’t speak through him. I was trying to help him understand that a spiritual gift also comes with spiritual responsibility.
Looking back, I still smile when I remember that young man standing in front of us, wiping the dust off his shoes with great determination.
But underneath the humour was a lesson I’ve carried with me through years of ministry:
Grace doesn’t mean the absence of boundaries. Discernment doesn’t mean the absence of love. And protecting the church doesn’t mean we stop believing in the gifts of the Spirit.
Leading is messy and people are messy. In the moment it can be funny or awkward but, in retrospect, it’s a great lesson in learning to lead well.
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