Following the Thread Part 1 of 7

FOLLOWING THE THREAD

A Series on Authority, Prophecy & Church Life

Jill Smith

ARTICLE 1 OF 7 - The Longing

Some years back I was in prayer, and I found myself lifted, somehow, up above Aotearoa, looking down over our three islands from a vantage point I’d never had before. It felt like being held securely in the Lord and looking back from heaven’s perspective.

What I noticed, looking down, was the mountain spine. That long ridge of high country running the length of the nation, the backbone of these islands. And as I watched, God moved. He brought his foot down on that spine, and these words came with the weight of it:

I am breaking the power of the spirit of control, and the tyranny of technique.

There was no judgment in it. No condemnation of us as a people, or of the church. What I felt was love. Fierce, tender, determined love for this nation and its people. And underneath the words, the cry of his heart:

Let my people go.

He wants us free. That’s where this starts.

That word didn’t land and leave. It started something in me that’s still opening up. What I’ve realised, sitting with that encounter since, is that God is moving, in this season, toward a reformation of authority that will set us free. Not starting in church structures or leadership models, but in hearts and minds, in the lenses we’ve learned to see community and leadership and the gifts Christ gives his church through.

And importantly, this is a reformation, not a revolution. Reformations don’t destroy what’s true and beautiful. They call it back to itself. They clear away what’s built up over time and let the original shape show through again, the one that was always there in the foundation texts, the one that, encouragingly, seems more liveable, more human, more like Jesus than some of what we’ve built in its place since.

The longing

I’ve been reading about the early church again lately, and something keeps happening when I do.

I get jealous.

Not in a mean way. More the feeling you get catching sight of something so good, so alive, so exactly right, that it puts an ache in you. A recognition that says, yes, that. That’s what I’m hungry for.

Those early communities were something else. Gathered round tables in each other’s homes. Jews and Gentiles sitting down together, the walls between them coming down in ways that must have felt as astonishing as anything else the Spirit was doing. Old Testament prophecy catching fire with new meaning, the threads of it weaving together into a picture far bigger than anyone had managed to hold on their own.

And right there in the middle of it, leadership rising up. Bubbling up and growing out of the life itself, recognised by the people around them, proven in character and faithfulness. Authority that served the ongoing life and growth of the community. People finding their gifts and discovering they were genuinely needed, genuinely part of something that couldn’t be what it was meant to be without them.

Most of us who’ve spent time in Spirit-filled communities know something of that aliveness, but probably the gap too. The distance between that compelling New Testament vision and what we sometimes find ourselves living. Maybe a weight that builds up over time. A slight shift queries, "Has belonging started feeling conditional?" A drag as the gifts we contribute feel a bit more like obligations. I went into some of that in an earlier series, The Air We Breathe, and I won’t go over it again here. But I mention it because some of you reading this will know what I mean.

This series continues where The Air We Breathe left off and follows the thread back toward the vision. And that has led me back to look again at what the New Testament reveals about authority, prophecy, apostolic ministry, and the gifts Christ gives his church. As I followed the thread, coming to it fresh, what I found there wasn’t really a correction, but more like coming home.

Come and see

This series is an invitation to come along and check out what I’ve glimped. I’ll share the picture I’ve seen as clearly as I can, and trust you and the Spirit to do the rest.

There’ll be things I’ve got wrong here, or said less well than the truth deserves, and I’d rather say that plainly once than keep apologising for it as I go.

A thought to ponder: When have you felt most alive in community with other believers? What was present then that you’re longing to find again?