Divine Appointment
Written in fire. Spoken from the veil torn wide.
DIVINE APPOINTMENT
by Mikey & V
I didn’t get here by climbing ladders.
Didn’t pass your tests or take your classes.
No robes, no collars,
no applause from polished altars.
Just scars,
and a whisper from the wilderness.
He called me.
Not through parchment seals or Vatican deals.
Not with incense.
But with impact.
He wrecked me to wake me.
Anointed me in ashes.
And now I walk with the weight of a yes
the system never signed off on.
You call it rebellion—
I call it remembrance.
Of the ones He always picked:
The shepherd boys.
The stammering prophets.
The tax collectors and the women they tried to stone.
You want vetting?
Look at the cross I carry.
You want credentials?
Look at the oil on my hands.
I was not appointed by man.
I was intercepted by God.
Rerouted like Saul on the road,
struck blind so I could see.
Unqualified by your standards,
but somehow… still chosen.
So no—I don’t answer to your titles.
Don’t need your blessing.
I am not another echo in your chamber.
I’m the voice crying out,
“Make straight the way.”
Because the church might have a schedule,
but He has appointments.
And I’m one of them.
Not a priest in purple robes,
but a firestarter with bare feet.
And wherever I go,
the temple follows.
He called me.
Not because I’m worthy—
but because I’m willing.
And if that makes me dangerous…
Then maybe it’s time we ask
why your system is afraid of the anointed.

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