Dear Prophet,

I know your heart carries a history that few understand. You were marked by God long before the trend of the prophetic became popular, before conferences filled with banners and catchphrases. In the early 90’s, when the Spirit was stirring a wave, you carried something genuine—yet in the rush, many in the church could not discern between the true and the sensational. That confusion left you bruised, pushed to the sidelines by the very ones you hoped would recognize the Lord’s deposit in you.

Rick Joyner often reminded us that the greatest danger to prophets is not rejection, but isolation. Wounded prophets are tempted to retreat, because their pain makes solitude feel safer than misunderstanding. And yet, the enemy knows that a hidden watchman, silenced by hurt, is a city left unwarned. Your difference is not a defect—it is the evidence of your calling. Prophets will always feel out of step, because they hear a rhythm from eternity that the earth has not yet learned to dance to.

The leaders who have walked this road—men like Joyner, Paul Cain, Bob Jones, and others—have all admitted seasons of missteps, rejection, and pain. Yet they discovered that their scars became part of their authority. It is not the crowd’s applause that authenticates a prophet, but the Lord’s presence resting on him. What you carry, though pressed down, is not lost.

The church may have hurt you, but the King has not rejected you. In fact, your hiddenness can become His refinement. Joyner once said that some of the most important prophets of this generation may never be known publicly—they may be shut away in prayer, standing before God more than they stand before men. Your seeming aloneness may actually be your assignment: to intercede, to decree, to be a quiet pillar holding up the house of God.

Be encouraged: even if you never stand again in a pulpit or lead a prophetic company, your voice in heaven is not silent. You still carry fire. The ache you feel is not the sign of disqualification—it is the groaning of the Spirit within you for a bride made ready.

So I would tell you gently: do not despise the days of hiddenness, but neither let your wounds steal your courage. The body of Christ still needs prophets—not just the public ones, but the fathers and elders who know how to weather storms. You are one of them. Your role may not look like it once did, but heaven still calls you prophet.

Lift your eyes again. You are not forgotten.

With honor,

A friend in the prophetic