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Divine 2024 Conference
I want to call this sermon the spirit of Rizpah—a story from the Old Testament that you don't hear a lot about, but one that carries a profound message for us today.
Let me read from 2 Samuel chapter 21. The Gibeonites were a tribe that had joined Israel—not Jewish, but they had made a covenant with Israel through Joshua and Moses. For years, that covenant was kept. But when Saul became king, he broke it. This displeased God greatly, because God is a God of covenant.
When the Gibeonites gained power, they wanted revenge. They demanded payment—not silver, not gold, but seven descendants of Saul. So Saul's five sons and two grandsons were delivered to them, and they were hanged.
Then comes Rizpah:
"Rizpah the daughter of Aiah took sackcloth and spread it for herself on a rock from the beginning of the harvest until the late rains poured from heaven. She did not allow the birds of the air to rest on them by day nor the beasts of the field by night."
For three or four months—the entire harvest season—Rizpah stayed on a rock where her children's bodies hung suspended between heaven and earth. She fought off the vultures by day. She fought off the jackals, the coyotes, the wolves by night. She would not allow the fowl or the beasts to destroy what was left of her babies, even as they were decaying right before her eyes.
She's a mother fighting for her dead. Not one child, but multiple children. And I want to tell you something: in Romans, it says we were dead in trespasses and sins. People look alive when they're partying. People look alive when they're living wild. But the truth is, they were dead and didn't even know it.
So here's Rizpah, sitting on that rock. She says, "I still have a burden for my babies. Yes, they're dead. Yes, they're in horrible shape. Yes, so much damage has been done and so many years have been wasted. But I still have a burden for them."
Some of you in this room have heard words like this from your own children: "You're dead to me." And maybe in your brokenness and bitterness, you've said back, "You're dead to me." You didn't mean it, but you were hurt.
But I've come today to preach that there is a glorious message in this story—one that changes everything. It doesn't end sad. It doesn't.
Rizpah found herself in an uncomfortable place on a rock. She's looking at her children, and she's praying: "I will fight for the dead. I will fight for my children. I will fight the beasts in the night. I will fight the fowl and the demons that come in the day. I won't give up."
Maybe your children are decaying in their faith. Maybe you sent them off to college and they came back questioning everything, even whether God exists. But don't you give up on them. The spirit of Rizpah says: I will not give up no matter how bad. No matter what my family lineage looks like. I will fight for the addicted. I will fight for the thief. I will fight for the liar. I will fight for the one who stole from me, who said they wouldn't do it again but they did it again and again.
Intercession—it means you get in between. Your child is here, demons are here, and you step in between what is coming to kill, steal, and destroy. You say, "No. You cannot have my family."
You know, in the parable Jesus taught, the birds that come to steal the seed are demonic spirits. So she's fighting the fowl off, the demons. She's fighting as a mother. She's fighting as a woman. She's fighting for her family. She's fighting for her seed.
But here's where the story changes—here's the glorious part: A king heard about the woman who wouldn't quit praying.
The scripture says:
"David was told what Rizpah...had done. And David went and took the bones of Saul and the bones of Jonathan."
He didn't just take one. He gathered them all. He cut them down from where they were hanging. He gathered the bones. Because as long as the bones are there, there's structure. There's history. There's proof. There's still hope.
This is the turning point. David, the king, heard her cry. And because she wouldn't give up, he took what was left of her family and buried them—buried them in the king's graveyard. Listen to this: in other words, "I know you've been suspended, but the king heard Rizpah's prayer. And because she wouldn't give up, I'm putting you back in the kingdom."
"They buried the bones of Saul and Jonathan in the country of Benjamin in Zela, the tomb of Kish. And after that God heeded the prayer for the land."
After that—after the king responded—God heard the prayer for the land.
Now, let me show you something from the New Testament. Look at Romans 6:
"Therefore we were buried with him through baptism into death, that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we also should walk in newness of life."
Do you see it? Water baptism. Baptism is being buried in the king's graveyard.
When a person gets saved, when God gathers the bones of those dead in trespasses and sins and comes back and washes your sins away, He wants you to be buried in the king's graveyard. He buries you with Him in baptism.
Colossians 2 says:
"You were buried with him in baptism, in which you are also raised with him through faith in the working of God who raised him from the dead. You, being dead in your trespasses...He has made alive together with him, having forgiven you your trespasses, having wiped out the handwriting of requirements that was against us. He has taken it out of the way. He has nailed it to the cross. Having disarmed principalities and powers, he made a public spectacle, triumphing over them."
Hell has tried to do things to you and your family. God says, "I won't let it prosper. I'm burying you in the king's graveyard, and by resurrection power, I will renew. I will restore. I will raise you back up in newness of life."
Now is the time to believe for your family. Now is the time to get the spirit of Rizpah and say, "I believe for my children." Now is the time to believe that dead relationships—between you and your mom, your dad, your brother, your sister, or whoever—can be healed. Now is the time to let the spirit of Rizpah come upon you and speak life.
They've been in a suspended place of indecision, but they're coming home. They're coming home.
Now let me close with this. In the Old Testament, no woman ever saw the glory of God behind the veil. No woman was in the Levitical priesthood line. No woman could touch the Mercy Seat. No woman could even get near the Ark of the Covenant. Women were confined to the court of women—totally separated by itself.
But in the New Testament, something changed. God got lavish.
He said, "I'm going to make up for everything those male chauvinist practices did in the Old Testament. Here's what I'm going to do: I'm going to let a woman carry my presence."
There was a young girl, perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old, named Mary. And God said, "You will carry the glory. For nine months, only you and Jesus—the only time the glory of God was completely encased outside of deity—will be together in your womb. You will carry the Ark of the Covenant."
Jesus was hung on a cross for our hangups. He was wounded for our transgressions. He was bruised for our iniquities. And He trusted His presence—His entire holy presence—to a young woman.
When Mary had the baby, there was no midwife. The scripture says she brought forth her firstborn. She brought forth the Ark of the Covenant in a stable, in a manger, all by herself. A woman was the first to embrace Him. A woman was the first human to touch Him.
"Blessed are the breasts that gave nurture to him."
There's a tenderness here. God is saying to you: There is a place women can get in intimacy with Me that men cannot even go.
The word travail is so important—it's a word that means nothing to men. Travail. When Zion travails, then she shall bring forth. It's a special responsibility. You can get in such a place with God that the King will hear your cry. That He will use you in ways that men cannot even enter into.
I believe what I'm preaching, because I have a mother who showed me this all my life. My mother was fasting and praying before I ever got on the earth. You hear people say, "You were chosen from your mother's womb," but we forget about the mother. We forget about her prayers. We forget about her intercession.
If you are a mother, if you are a wife, if you are a woman in this room today, and you've had somebody on your heart and on your mind—someone you want to see changed, saved, set free—I'm asking you to come. Come and stand as an intercessor. Stand between the beasts and your babies. Stand for your husband. Stand for your children. Stand for those in your family who need salvation, who are suspended somewhere between heaven and hell.
Don't just hear another song and sing another song. I want a spirit of intercession to come on the women in this place.
Maybe you've got a teenager that's somewhere suspended. You know they know the truth, but hell's coming after them right now. Beat the buzzards off. Beat the beasts off. There's a beast assigned to every one of our children. Tell it: "You can't have my family. You can't have their mind. You can't have their body. You can't have their spirit. You can't have their tongue. You can't have their heart. You cannot have them. They belong to the kingdom. They will be buried in the king's graveyard—baptism—and they will be raised to newness of life."
Raise your hands all over this room and say, "Lord, I want to go into the holy of holies. I want to be a Rizpah in my generation."
Stand to your feet. Call out your children's names. Call out your children's children's names. Begin to call on God and pray for your families. Those friends influencing them, those situations waking you up at night—take authority. You will not have my family.
Continue exploring
Connected by scripture or shared themes.
Divine 2024 Conference
I want to call this sermon the spirit of Rizpah—a story from the Old Testament that you don't hear a lot about, but one that carries a profound message for us today.
Let me read from 2 Samuel chapter 21. The Gibeonites were a tribe that had joined Israel—not Jewish, but they had made a covenant with Israel through Joshua and Moses. For years, that covenant was kept. But when Saul became king, he broke it. This displeased God greatly, because God is a God of covenant.
When the Gibeonites gained power, they wanted revenge. They demanded payment—not silver, not gold, but seven descendants of Saul. So Saul's five sons and two grandsons were delivered to them, and they were hanged.
Then comes Rizpah:
"Rizpah the daughter of Aiah took sackcloth and spread it for herself on a rock from the beginning of the harvest until the late rains poured from heaven. She did not allow the birds of the air to rest on them by day nor the beasts of the field by night."
For three or four months—the entire harvest season—Rizpah stayed on a rock where her children's bodies hung suspended between heaven and earth. She fought off the vultures by day. She fought off the jackals, the coyotes, the wolves by night. She would not allow the fowl or the beasts to destroy what was left of her babies, even as they were decaying right before her eyes.
She's a mother fighting for her dead. Not one child, but multiple children. And I want to tell you something: in Romans, it says we were dead in trespasses and sins. People look alive when they're partying. People look alive when they're living wild. But the truth is, they were dead and didn't even know it.
So here's Rizpah, sitting on that rock. She says, "I still have a burden for my babies. Yes, they're dead. Yes, they're in horrible shape. Yes, so much damage has been done and so many years have been wasted. But I still have a burden for them."
Some of you in this room have heard words like this from your own children: "You're dead to me." And maybe in your brokenness and bitterness, you've said back, "You're dead to me." You didn't mean it, but you were hurt.
But I've come today to preach that there is a glorious message in this story—one that changes everything. It doesn't end sad. It doesn't.
Rizpah found herself in an uncomfortable place on a rock. She's looking at her children, and she's praying: "I will fight for the dead. I will fight for my children. I will fight the beasts in the night. I will fight the fowl and the demons that come in the day. I won't give up."
Maybe your children are decaying in their faith. Maybe you sent them off to college and they came back questioning everything, even whether God exists. But don't you give up on them. The spirit of Rizpah says: I will not give up no matter how bad. No matter what my family lineage looks like. I will fight for the addicted. I will fight for the thief. I will fight for the liar. I will fight for the one who stole from me, who said they wouldn't do it again but they did it again and again.
Intercession—it means you get in between. Your child is here, demons are here, and you step in between what is coming to kill, steal, and destroy. You say, "No. You cannot have my family."
You know, in the parable Jesus taught, the birds that come to steal the seed are demonic spirits. So she's fighting the fowl off, the demons. She's fighting as a mother. She's fighting as a woman. She's fighting for her family. She's fighting for her seed.
But here's where the story changes—here's the glorious part: A king heard about the woman who wouldn't quit praying.
The scripture says:
"David was told what Rizpah...had done. And David went and took the bones of Saul and the bones of Jonathan."
He didn't just take one. He gathered them all. He cut them down from where they were hanging. He gathered the bones. Because as long as the bones are there, there's structure. There's history. There's proof. There's still hope.
This is the turning point. David, the king, heard her cry. And because she wouldn't give up, he took what was left of her family and buried them—buried them in the king's graveyard. Listen to this: in other words, "I know you've been suspended, but the king heard Rizpah's prayer. And because she wouldn't give up, I'm putting you back in the kingdom."
"They buried the bones of Saul and Jonathan in the country of Benjamin in Zela, the tomb of Kish. And after that God heeded the prayer for the land."
After that—after the king responded—God heard the prayer for the land.
Now, let me show you something from the New Testament. Look at Romans 6:
"Therefore we were buried with him through baptism into death, that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we also should walk in newness of life."
Do you see it? Water baptism. Baptism is being buried in the king's graveyard.
When a person gets saved, when God gathers the bones of those dead in trespasses and sins and comes back and washes your sins away, He wants you to be buried in the king's graveyard. He buries you with Him in baptism.
Colossians 2 says:
"You were buried with him in baptism, in which you are also raised with him through faith in the working of God who raised him from the dead. You, being dead in your trespasses...He has made alive together with him, having forgiven you your trespasses, having wiped out the handwriting of requirements that was against us. He has taken it out of the way. He has nailed it to the cross. Having disarmed principalities and powers, he made a public spectacle, triumphing over them."
Hell has tried to do things to you and your family. God says, "I won't let it prosper. I'm burying you in the king's graveyard, and by resurrection power, I will renew. I will restore. I will raise you back up in newness of life."
Now is the time to believe for your family. Now is the time to get the spirit of Rizpah and say, "I believe for my children." Now is the time to believe that dead relationships—between you and your mom, your dad, your brother, your sister, or whoever—can be healed. Now is the time to let the spirit of Rizpah come upon you and speak life.
They've been in a suspended place of indecision, but they're coming home. They're coming home.
Now let me close with this. In the Old Testament, no woman ever saw the glory of God behind the veil. No woman was in the Levitical priesthood line. No woman could touch the Mercy Seat. No woman could even get near the Ark of the Covenant. Women were confined to the court of women—totally separated by itself.
But in the New Testament, something changed. God got lavish.
He said, "I'm going to make up for everything those male chauvinist practices did in the Old Testament. Here's what I'm going to do: I'm going to let a woman carry my presence."
There was a young girl, perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old, named Mary. And God said, "You will carry the glory. For nine months, only you and Jesus—the only time the glory of God was completely encased outside of deity—will be together in your womb. You will carry the Ark of the Covenant."
Jesus was hung on a cross for our hangups. He was wounded for our transgressions. He was bruised for our iniquities. And He trusted His presence—His entire holy presence—to a young woman.
When Mary had the baby, there was no midwife. The scripture says she brought forth her firstborn. She brought forth the Ark of the Covenant in a stable, in a manger, all by herself. A woman was the first to embrace Him. A woman was the first human to touch Him.
"Blessed are the breasts that gave nurture to him."
There's a tenderness here. God is saying to you: There is a place women can get in intimacy with Me that men cannot even go.
The word travail is so important—it's a word that means nothing to men. Travail. When Zion travails, then she shall bring forth. It's a special responsibility. You can get in such a place with God that the King will hear your cry. That He will use you in ways that men cannot even enter into.
I believe what I'm preaching, because I have a mother who showed me this all my life. My mother was fasting and praying before I ever got on the earth. You hear people say, "You were chosen from your mother's womb," but we forget about the mother. We forget about her prayers. We forget about her intercession.
If you are a mother, if you are a wife, if you are a woman in this room today, and you've had somebody on your heart and on your mind—someone you want to see changed, saved, set free—I'm asking you to come. Come and stand as an intercessor. Stand between the beasts and your babies. Stand for your husband. Stand for your children. Stand for those in your family who need salvation, who are suspended somewhere between heaven and hell.
Don't just hear another song and sing another song. I want a spirit of intercession to come on the women in this place.
Maybe you've got a teenager that's somewhere suspended. You know they know the truth, but hell's coming after them right now. Beat the buzzards off. Beat the beasts off. There's a beast assigned to every one of our children. Tell it: "You can't have my family. You can't have their mind. You can't have their body. You can't have their spirit. You can't have their tongue. You can't have their heart. You cannot have them. They belong to the kingdom. They will be buried in the king's graveyard—baptism—and they will be raised to newness of life."
Raise your hands all over this room and say, "Lord, I want to go into the holy of holies. I want to be a Rizpah in my generation."
Stand to your feet. Call out your children's names. Call out your children's children's names. Begin to call on God and pray for your families. Those friends influencing them, those situations waking you up at night—take authority. You will not have my family.
Continue exploring
Connected by scripture or shared themes.
