Author Darlene J. Conard

Yesterday, at precisely 1:16 PM, I found myself in an unexpected confrontation with my own soul. Nestled in the comfort of my bed, I lay still, tears escaping my eyes like uninvited guests. “Why, God?” I whispered into the silence, my heart heavy with the weight of unending spiritual battles. Being attuned to the spirit realm can feel like walking a tightrope in the dark—one misstep and the shadows loom ever larger. The struggles I face are not just difficult; they’re the kind of trials that test the very fabric of my being. For two weeks, the heaviness in the atmosphere has been smothering!

As the warm tears streamed down my flushed cheeks,  a profound stirring within my spirit—a gentle yet powerful voice resonated in the depths of my being. “I do care about what you care about, Darlene,” it assured me, infusing my heart with a sense of solace. Slowly, my tears began to dry as a vision unfolded before me.

I saw a procession of clay vessels—no two alike—each sculpted with divine intention, their curves kissed by the fingerprints of God. These were not ordinary pots; they bore the sacred imprint of the Creator’s touch, pressed into them,  golden seals of purpose. They stood side by side at the edge of a battlefield, where shadows howled and chaos clawed at the light.

Yet the glow of God’s handiwork shimmered defiantly, casting light into the gloom. The hounds of hell came roaring—snarling, relentless, teeth bared with fury—but the vessels did not shatter. They absorbed the storm, not with brute force, but with holy resilience. Their silence was not weakness—it was consecrated strength.

Then the Lord said, clear and sovereign: “Not all are summoned to the frontlines. I have chosen the strongest warriors,  vessels forged for fire. These are my watchmen, my defenders of the body.

Satan strikes hardest when purpose burns within a vessel. You carry my signature. Your talents are my witness. You are the living witness of my craftsmanship.”

When others recoil from our presence, it is not rejection—it is recognition. They see the divine fingerprints etched upon us, and tremble. For prophets are not merely shaped by suffering; they are born of sacred design. They are not accidental—they are intentional. Not ornamental—they are instrumental. Chosen not for ease, but for endurance. Marked not for comfort, but for calling.

“Not everyone is called to the frontlines. I have chosen the strongest warriors, vessels forged for fire. These are my watchmen, my defenders of the body. Satan strikes hardest when purpose burns within a vessel. You carry my signature. Your talents are my witness. You are the living proof of my craftsmanship.”

Prophets are not merely forged through experience and struggle; they are born with intention and purpose.

“Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.” —Jeremiah 1:5 KJV

Feel free to forward it to anyone you wish.  My mission is to encourage everyone to follow our Lord Jesus Christ with all their heart, soul, mind, and strength. ©Darlene J. Conard Vision Ministries 2024.   This may not be republished or used without the author’s written consent. The photograph is AI-generated. Darlene J. Conard is also affiliated with Glory Carrier Ministries.

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