Tell me, tell me, tell me what is the future?

 

These days . . . .

I wish for a crystal ball, a Google button for an internet search into the future, a tarot card reader.

When I was twenty, on the cusp of several major life decisions, I went to see a prophet. My evangelical church was holding Holy Spirit week, a series of revival services and a woman known to be a prophet was scheduled to speak. So many thoughts were rolling around inside my head.

I was thinking about dropping out of college

Changing churches

Actually quitting religion

I was considering leaving the country and had applied for a passport

I believe all of the above would have blown my parents up, but I was grown and living out of the house. I’d already gone down a couple of blind alleys, figuratively, and was unsure of what lay ahead. I just wished I could see a mile or two down the road. I needed a map because I was afraid of making a wrong turn.

I just wished I knew what it was I wanted 

Now at age 61 I’m back here again . . . at the same fork in a road. And, somehow I began thinking about that prophet.

You see the church held all of the answers. Not a lick of doubt. Imagine how potent a person who held the mantle of prophet—they could tell me everything I needed to know. So even though I was on my last leg as far as believing in any of it, I was certain this prophet would show me the way. I think this is what they call irony.

I went with high hopes, walking the mile or two to the rental hall reserved for that week of services. A sign out front advertised Holy Spirit Revival Week. I forget her name, the prophet but she was well-known in the tri-state area, though she did not know me from Adam.

So this, I guess would prove, that she was good at what she did, nothing would taint her foreknowledge. I was a complete stranger to her as she was to me. After her message I walked to the front, where she walked down the row of people waiting for a “word.” She’d place her hand on top of their head, most were slain in the spirit. Me . . .

We just stared at each other, waiting. Well? I thought. And she went on to the guy next to me.

I left thinking my case must be an especially difficult one, a hard nut to crack.

After all these years I’m ready to run to the front, to line up—please, tell me my future, what is it I’m supposed to do . . .

Please tell me--why?