12/29/2025
The Kingdom of Righteousness Rising
Surety Amidst Upheaval
The Kingdom of Righteousness Rising
Surety Amidst Upheaval
"The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run into it and are safe."
Proverbs 18:10
Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year, to my fellow workers in the field. The slogan in italics beneath the heading of this epistle may have caught your eye. The paragraphs that follow are not intended as a standalone prophetic utterance, but rather as a word of wisdom for those who have been sojourning with these teachings in the present season. It is important, however, to emphasise that the teachings of WOW are prophetic usherings, and also reinforcements from the Lord for seasons yet to come. Because of His compelling love, He equips us with knowledge that turns us back from perishing.
Last year was the year of Divine Alignment, carried under the slogan: "Nothing Is Impossible Through Prayer." This was tested in truth, as those closest to us were challenged even unto death, yet were able to avail much through righteous prayer. This was not ordinary prayer, but prayer empowered by the weekly prophetic word poured forth from the WOW pulpit, beginning with Sacking Jezebel and ending the year with The Hidden King.
It is not difficult to see the destruction of the world; it is apparent, and we do not deny it. Yet our gaze is not fixed there. We do not seek affirmation in being proved right by a destructive prophecy, but would far rather see His Kingdom reality manifest. Our eyes are set upon the finished work, the good news entrusted to us, which we are called to proclaim, to reconcile, and to build upon as co-workers, pressing faithfully toward a triumphant end.
As you know, we are not a doomsday prophetic culture. We have always preached from a place of faith, faith that overcomes. The phrase Surety Amidst Upheaval does not arise from fear, but from an unwavering confidence in the sureness of the Lord’s promises. As the year draws to a close, Fiona’s and my sleep cycles are interrupted by Heaven’s active participation in our lives. We toss and turn through the night, stirred by dreams and visions that move our souls, so that we rise in the morning carrying impressions, fragments of visions, voices, and scriptures. Each morning, Fiona, Mel, and I sit together, stitching these pieces into a tapestry of the Lord’s message, one not declared as a single prophetic utterance, but emerging quietly from the fabric of our ordinary lives.
Every step taken thereafter flows from these deep prophetic stirrings that keep us restless in the dance of REM sleep. By day, the natural rhythm of life overtakes the vision realm, yet unknowingly we have already integrated the profundity of nightly encounter with the plain cadence of daily obedience. God comes to men disguised within the unconscious and within the seemingly secular, issuing commands that, to those without eyes, appear as nothing more than another church task or request. I do not attempt to retain dreams, for it is written that dreams are given and then sealed away, lest pride take root. What we know with certainty is this: we are mightily driven. Where, when, and how remain faint memories, drawn out only by attentive ears and open hearts during the unfolding of the weekly sermons that the Lord deposits in the night watches. It’s not about what has been seen, but more about who is willing to build the city.
Nehemiah 4:3–6, 9
Without descending into apocalyptic detail, our nights have been filled with fragments awaiting their stitching over morning coffee. Yet for your sake, I write only to offer a glimpse of matters that are of lesser weight to Heaven, though of great importance to men. A vision unfolds like a film reel of men and their affairs; some unfamiliar, others known; flashes of lives and character, not for spectacle, but as God uses the nervous systems of men made righteous by grace to pass moments of human life through prophetic dreamers, like current through a wire, for the sake of swift, whispered prayers. These are the collective dreams of millions of saints across the world, who awaken to their first coffee and soon forget.
A glimpse appears of a boxer prancing in his ring, and a voice whispers, “This day will change boxing.” The next vision shows armies beneath the Star-Spangled Banner rising mightily, and the Church rising with them. The scene shifts rapidly to visions of domestic plots of destruction and terror; not merely fought, but caught. Cells that might have been used for great calamity are discovered and diffused. This time the voice thunders, “The Church must rise in foresight to prevail. In God We Trust is the surety that will echo when the destroyer is averted.” The scene changes again, and a softer voice whispers, “The Church will rise, and government will know that the two are one.” Then comes a vision of a strange shore, bearing the colours white, green, red, and black, strewn upon the ground; many rushing to find shelter, others binding wounds upon the mapped earth beneath them. The wee hours of morning are spent through cosmic battles; angels like aliens preaching another gospel; which I wake up fervently refuting. Night after night the visions ebb and flow, not to be ensnared by dream catchers, but to leave behind impressions of urgency; depths not curated by prophetic platforms or public utterance, but shaped through everyday acts that build the Kingdom and make the King known.
The affairs of men are so trivial, and so distasteful to Heaven, that He who sits upon the throne laughs at our most powerful political manoeuvres. He has watched us across the millennia; from Tubal-Cain, when the Watchers imparted technology to build cities, to Jack Parsons traversing forbidden realms in Babylon’s project to engineer the rocket-propelled engine, and onward to the present hour, where quantum computing and super intelligence knock at humanity’s door. When world war is but a desperate button away, He mocks our values, whether democratic, socialist, or the technocratic future we imagine inevitable. Nothing humanity has ever created compares with His Kingdom.
It is unseen and invisible, hidden in the common and concealed within the foolish. It does not shout through sound systems or shine through elegant fonts peering from peer-reviewed journals of science. These achievements are scarcely considered by the finest minds of the age, nor are they found by explorers crossing the deepest caves or the farthest ice fields of the Arctic. They are found instead by a peculiar company of seekers who, once having found it, would sell all they possess for the pearl of great price. They willingly lay down their lives, praising through the centuries as flames are lit and stakes are raised. They endure persecution across millennia to carry the good news that they are finally free; free from the bo***ge of usurped governors and false masters, to serve willingly a true King.
This King does not announce His coming with trumpets or parades. He is ushered in upon those far humbler than human expectation. He is cradled in hearts made tender; through disillusionment with humanity’s finest claims to justice, disappointed by our best efforts at righteous activism, broken because we valued vulnerability and surrendered power through trust. We were defeated because we sought to make others strong; exploited because we refused to be shrewd; cheated because we trusted unconditionally; betrayed because we truly wished to be friends.
Today, my fellow workers in the field, as you pass beyond 2025, I invite you to survey with me the wondrous cross upon which the Prince of Glory died. Let last year’s gains be counted as loss, and let contempt be poured upon every ground of knowledge and pride. Let us acknowledge that nowhere was there a hero to save us, nowhere a bastion in which to hope. Black or white, slave or free, man or woman; no political ideology, no platform, no theory can deliver us.
Yet the still, small voice of the Shepherd continues to call. It calls both the simple and the strong. The Father’s call and the mother’s cry within the walls of the Church remain the safest and most steadfast refuge against the tolling bells of the world. The ecclesial embrace is the appointed dwelling for those who have heard that call, an altar where men and women bow not to the minister, but to the One whom they behold. This place has endured the weight of centuries. Before Daniel saw kingdoms rise and fall, before iron and clay were struck down, the Church was ordained as the city set upon a hill. Those who run into her strong tower find refuge against the gates of Hades itself.
And so in 2026, we set our faces once more toward the refuge of ages past and the hope of years to come. We journey not to an institution, nor to an idea, but to strengthen and build the place where Jesus calls His home. We invite you to be the living stones that can make WOW Life Church all that the Father has bequeathed to His Son.
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were an offering far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.
- Isaac Watts -
“When I Survey the Wondrous Cross”
Kirby Sinclair de Lanerolle,
Bishop of the Free Churches
