Prophecy

"Do not quench the Spirit.  Do not treat prophecies with contempt, but test them all and hold on to what is good . . ."  I Thessalonians 5:19-21.

One of my spiritual gifts is prophecy. 

I have said that sentence so many times, I forget sometimes that it might sound strange to others.  Regardless, it is true.  I have had that gift affirmed by Friends many times, in earnest and teasingly (friends who know me well like to say things like, “And then Ashley said, in her prophetic way . . .” or “How did you know that I needed that?  You must be a prophet!”).

Of course, when I say it for the first time to someone new, that inevitably leads to a discussion of what prophecy means.  My personal definition of prophesying is:  Telling the truth, all the time.  Thomas Merton has a much fancier definition:

To prophesy is not to predict, but to seize upon reality in its moment of highest expectation and tension toward the new.  This tension is discovered not in hypnotic elation, but in the light of everyday experience.

(Borrowed from Jan Hoffman and Kenneth Sutton’s piece in Walk Worthy of Your Calling, p. 153.)

Merton's definition also works for me―I tend to see things both as they are and as they might be, which can be quite painful at times.  Perhaps a more palatable way to say it is that I am intuitive and empathetic, with a gift for speaking to the present moment.

One thing I have learned is that prophets are mirrors, not problem-solvers.  The prophet's job is to deliver the message; it is up to the people listening to decide what to do with it.  In practical terms, that means I usually don't have answers when people ask me, "What are you going to do to fix this problem you have named?"

I am not alone.

Far from it.  There are many others like me―what an older Friend recently referred to as my "litter."  Young adult Friends with strong, prophetic voices, doing powerful ministry in spite of the odds.

We recognize each other, sometimes without ever having met.  The forms of our ministry vary, but we see the same call in each other.  We stay in touch over long distances, through email and social media.  When there are opportunities for us to meet in person, either individually or in groups, the energy is amazing.  But those opportunities are often few and far between.

There is a high level of burnout in this group, for a variety of reasons.  The work is hard.  Although a few of us have found ways to support themselves through ministry, most have other jobs in addition to doing this work.  Some of us have spiritual support from our meetings, others do not.  We feel the pressure of representing our generation, that there is little room for error. 

And sometimes it feels like we are yelling but no one has ears to hear . . . or they listen only long enough to shut us down.

After burning out, some leave Friends altogether.  But others of us stay, because this is our home.

 I recently had the opportunity to gather with some of these ministers at the World Conference of Friends.  I have connected with others since returning home.  My interactions with these Friends were enlivening and challenging, and gave me fresh energy for the work ahead.  

I know that we can't stay at these gatherings forever, that our work is also to go back out in the world.  But it also feels wrong for us to go back to our individual struggles to make ends meet, each of us trying to figure out how to do this ministry on our own.

I am left with the question:  What would the Religious Society of Friends look like if this rising group of ministers had the support, nurture, and accountability to thrive?