I see small sailboats gliding over water. The water is pristine. Calm. Clear and enticing. The sailboats are all headed in the same direction with the breath of Holy Spirit in their sails.
To the far left, there are cruise ships. Large, crammed full, overly busy cruise ships. They are powered by massive engines and have every imaginable distraction aboard. The cruise ships are travelling under the power of their own strength. Their own self-appreciation. Their own self-aggrandisement.
The cruise ships begin to hit tough waters—the storms have come. I see lightning. I hear thunder. I can see the wind that is headed in their direction and it is very different to the breath of God that is guiding the sailboats—it is accusatory, judgmental, and harsh.
As the storms and harsh winds hit the cruise ships, the cruise ships are pitched to and fro in the stirred up seas. Their suave demeanours and smooth control means nothing as the storm overtakes them, because right now, they are but a drop in the ocean.
Eventually the storm tosses the cruise ships so badly that they begin to sink—they cannot withstand the storm by the power of their own might. The people on board the cruise ships begin to realise that they will die if they stay aboard the cruise ships, and they become scared and confused as panic overtakes them.
I see the gentle, peaceful sailboats turn according to the breath of God as they head for the sinking cruise ships. The sails of the sailboats do not engage the other wind, but instead they remain anchored in and guided by the rest, peace and breath of Holy Spirit in their sails, and eventually, they glide into the stormy waters unaffected, as if—like Jesus—the waves are of no consequence to them.
“Peace, be still,” they declare, and the storms begin to calm and the full destruction of the cruise ships begins to be seen. Floating boards, money, clothing, and every kind of wealth are either floating in the waters, or sinking beneath them.
“Climb aboard!” The sailboats declare to those clambering for air in the waters.
“Why would I want to get on a sailboat when I have this cruise ship?” return some of those who are sinking, fully deluded about their present state.
“It is your choice,” say the sailboats. “But can you not see that you have no cruise ship left and that you are drowning? Here! Take the hand of my people.”
“I do not want to climb aboard you, sailboat—it’s not up to my standards!” say some.
“Yes! Please! Help!” say others.
“Sailboats don’t belong in these waters!” Scream others, offended.
The sky turns darker and those who do not board the sailboats can no longer be seen. A lighthouse activates in the distance and a powerful beam of light searches the waters. It does not give up. It can never give up.
The sailboats respond to the brightness of the light as they glow. The sailboats begin to lift sinking people from the waters and onto their tiny decks. The darkness begins to recede.
There is life in the light. There is truth in the light. There is love in the light. There is safety in the light.
The big cruise ships—the wealths of the nations, religions, fame and fortunes, flock-fleecing, and kingdom denying—sink, and as they sink, the people who have been raised from the waters come to life in a mass awakening.
Brainwashed, unattached, distracted cruise ship life has gone, and real, raw, illuminated life has come so that people are born again. So that people can find true life.