The invisible army

We’re still a little stunned by some of the images we’ve seen over the last few days. On the surface, it feels as if control has slipped away—almost as if love, respect, and restraint have been pushed aside by something unimaginably dark. In that raw helplessness, I found myself returning to a spiritual moment from another dark time in my life —one that still feels quietly relevant.

What follows is a transcription of my journal entry from 9 May 2023, written in the wake of what I sensed as a deep, inward speaking. I want to say upfront: I’m deeply cautious about attaching “thus says the Lord” to anything. That kind of phrasing can borrow an authority I don’t want my writing to claim. So read this simply as an honest account of what I experienced—words filtered through my own mind and language, because they had to be written down somehow.

This morning while meditating, I sensed the Lord spoke into the deep place of my heart:

“I am teaching you about an energy the world does not see.

It is not the energy of striving, proving, or controlling.

 It does not roar like human power, or march like the empires of this age.

 It moves quietly, like sap in the hidden core of a tree,

 yet it carries more creative force than all your anxious activity.

It is the energy of a surrendered heart.”

I saw that every time a human heart lets go—of its demand to be right, to be in control, to be protected from pain—something invisible is released into the fabric of creation. A kind of holy current. It is as if surrender opens a channel and the life of God begins to flow through that person in a new way, radiating into the world like a field of unseen light.

I sensed the Lord saying:

“When you yield to Me in the dark,

 when you choose trust instead of bitterness,

 when you forgive instead of retaliate,

 you are not being passive.

 You are co-creating with Me.

Every act of surrender generates real energy in the spiritual realm,

 a living power that I am gathering and weaving into My purposes for the earth.”

Then my attention was drawn to Jesus in Gethsemane.

There, in the olive-press of his own agony, he fell to the ground and prayed:

 “Not my will, but Yours be done.”

I saw that this was not resignation; it was the ignition point of a new kind of power.

 In that moment of total yielding, a vast, invisible energy was released—

 the energy that would carry him through the brutality of the cross, and reconcile everything to everything. 

I sensed the Lord saying:

“The strength that bore the cross

 was born in the surrender of Gethsemane.

The power that forgave the unforgivable

 was generated in that ‘Yes.’

 The power that rolled away the stone and rekindled a broken body,

 was already moving when he yielded.”

This surrendered energy is not weak.

 It is resurrection power in seed form.

Then I saw something like an army, but not the kind I was used to imagining. Not a line of soldiers with weapons drawn, but an army of ordinary people scattered across the earth—quiet, hidden ones—whose hearts had been broken open by suffering and yet had chosen surrender instead of cynicism.

Mothers, fathers, widows, workers, leaders, unemployed, sick, lonely, betrayed…

 people in hospital rooms and at kitchen sinks, in boardrooms and taxis, in prisons and monasteries.

 People who had whispered, sometimes through tears:

“Into Your hands I commit my spirit.

 Not my will, but Yours.

 Let Your love be born in this pain.”

And from each heart there emanated a subtle, luminous field, like warmth rising from coals. I knew these were fields of surrendered energy—love released in the very places where everything in us wants to shut down and protect itself.

I sensed the Lord saying:

“I am gathering these ones.

 I am forming an army you cannot count,

 not armed with violence but with yielded hearts.

The world will overlook them,

 but heaven recognizes their radiance.

 They are My Gideon’s band in this age—

 small in the eyes of the world,

 mighty in the energy of surrender.”

Then the impression shifted to the pain of “now”—this present season of confusion, loss, and shaking. I felt, almost physically, the weight of collective anguish: personal trials, global turmoil, relationships under strain, bodies and minds stretched to breaking point.

And I heard:

“Do not despise the pain of this moment.

 What you are calling chaos

 may be the contractions of a birth you cannot yet see.

The groaning you feel—in your own heart and in the world—

 is not meaningless.

 It is the labour of a new company being formed:

 men and women whose surrender will release

 a river of creative power into the earth.

These contractions are loosening your grip,

 breaking your illusions of control,

 softening the soil of your heart

 so that My life can flow more freely through you.”

I realised that this “army” is not recruited by enthusiasm or zeal, but midwifed by surrender. No one qualifies by strength; we are inducted through our “Yes” in the place of weakness. 

Every time we choose to trust in the dark, we contribute to this strange, luminous power-field of love that God is weaving into history.

I sensed the Lord concluding:

“As My Son’s surrender in Gethsemane

 released the power that carried him through cross and resurrection,

 so your surrender in this hour

 releases a share in that same power.

I am not wasting your pain.

 I am harnessing the energy of your yielded heart

 to fulfil My purposes in the world.

Let Me have your ‘Yes’ again.

 Breathe it out, even trembling.

 In that simple ‘Yes’

 you are joined to the great current of My resurrection life

 and you stand, whether you see it or not,

 among the quiet ranks of My surrendered ones

 who will bear My love into the coming age.”

And with that, I saw the present darkness not as the end,

 but as the dim room where something holy is being born—

 an unseen army of surrendered hearts,

 shining with the same gentle, unconquerable energy

 that first formed the garden called Eden, 

 pulsed through the garden of Gethsemane

 and rolled the stone away on the third day.