Shirt-basket and then what?

Like any responsible driver, my gaze was scanning the fence-line along the rural road. In the early morning mist, it would be easy to overlook a deer that might be darting out in front of my old Dodge Aries K. I've had nicer cars, but that smooth riding blue gas guzzler had the coldest air and most comfortable seats of any vehicle I've ever owned, and I wasn't about to hit a deer and damage it. Sure enough, there was something stirring on the shoulder up ahead, so I slowed. Curious, I chuckled to myself, that chicken was about to cross the road. Then another one, and another dotted the roadside. Crawling now, with the mist slowly rolling out, I saw ten or twenty chickens moseying along up ahead, all over the parkway. Chubby, cream colored chickens. As I carefully made my way past them, I couldn't help but wonder which of the nearby farmhouses were missing their flock. Was it called a flock? Or a gaggle? Someone would be looking for these little mamas soon I was sure. Just a few hundred feet further down the road, and I brought my V6 boat to a screeching halt. I had crested a slight hill where the mist had already receded, and it was covered with chicks. There was no maneuvering around them, they littered the entire roadway like a herd of Tribbles. Or was it called a murder of Tribbles? Still no farmers in sight looking for their lost poultry, and I had an appointment to keep. I pulled up the corners of my shirt to fashion a shirt-basket and began collecting the sweet chicks. Pile after pile I emptied close to the fence and away from the road, but there were so many. With a full shirt-basket, I stood and surveyed the scope of the task, and wondered...what am I supposed to do with all these chicks? Where did they come from? Why isn't anyone looking for them?

And then I woke up. I don't often have prophetic dreams, nor do I often remember my dreams once my eyes are fully focused in the morning. This one I can still smell.

I can't help but reflect on this dream and remember Jesus' words in Matthew 23:37-39. I've been praying for Israel and Jerusalem, that God's plan will unfold and I wait expectantly for revival in that land. I've been praying for Benjamin Netanyahu as he navigates his nation through the most uncertain times since its rebirth in 1948. Jesus' lament over Jerusalem shows his great love for his people, and prophesies to them that they will never see him again until they say "Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord." I pray that Israel's leaders will recognize Yeshua and that the people will finally say "Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord."

How fitting that this dream would come at Rosh Hashana, in the midst of the turmoil that completely surrounds Israel right now. It's the beginning of God's new year, when He's always ready to begin a new work, and at least for me, He's turning my attention to a more personal connection with Israel. It's not like I didn't see it coming. As a forerunner, I always have an eye on Israel and the Middle East, and less than two months ago, God moved our family into the middle of a Jewish neighborhood. A few weeks ago at church, prophet Hector Santos stared straight into me and I knew I was being called to minister in Israel. As he asked for the third time..."who is called to go to Israel?" I finally stood, not understanding, not even fully hearing that call. Even as I type this out, I know God has brought me understanding of my dream, and confirmation of this new calling. It's time to be the arms of Jesus, to gather his children, "as a hen gathers her chicks" and prepare for His return.

It may be months before I'm able to physically go to Israel, but I am already praying for God to prepare the way, and prepare the hearts of those I will have the privilege to serve. I praise Him for planting me right where I can learn how to share Yeshua with them, and reach out to my neighbors before ever leaving American soil. Pray for me to have boldness and opportunities.