Prophets Everywhere, yet no Wisdom

Our Ignorance

If you haven’t taken a gander into the dearth of what passes as intellectually stimulating today, I want to help you understand why the Church of God is so fragmented today. There is a real temptation to blame it on a list of things: the internet, the culture, the leaders, the algorithms, the politics, the lack of strong preaching, or the endless parade of conferences and podcasts. Those things play a role, no doubt. They amplify and accelerate what is already resident in the fallen human heart. But if we stop there, we miss the deeper, more sobering reality. The fragmentation we see—the doctrinal confusion, the church splits, the tribal factions, the endless proliferation of self-appointed voices and parachurch empires—is not ultimately from man. It is from God.

It is from God.

The Apostle Paul warned Timothy with sobering clarity: “For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but wanting to have their ears tickled, they will accumulate for themselves teachers in accordance to their own desires, and will turn away their ears from the truth and will turn aside to myths” (2 Timothy 4:3-4, NASB95).

This is not a description of the world. It is a description of professing Christians who have grown weary of the pure preaching of the Word and the ordinary means of grace. We crave affirmation, novelty, emotional highs, or cultural relevance—whatever soothes the conscience without demanding repentance and mortification. So we accumulate for ourselves teachers who suit our passions. And in His holy sovereignty, God has given us over to the very deception we demanded. Not as a final abandonment, but as a judicial act of righteous judgment, much like the giving over described in Romans 1. Persistent refusal of sound doctrine invites the Lord to permit the lying spirits to have their hour.

False Prophets

Nowhere is this clearer than in 1 Kings 22, the story of King Ahab, King Jehoshaphat, and the prophet Micaiah.

Three years passed without war between Aram and Israel. In the third year Jehoshaphat the king of Judah came down to the king of Israel. … And he said to Jehoshaphat, “Will you go with me to battle at Ramoth-gilead?” And Jehoshaphat said to the king of Israel, “I am as you are, my people as your people, my horses as your horses.” Jehoshaphat said to the king of Israel, “Please inquire first for the word of the LORD.” (v. 5) Ahab summons 400 prophets—his court favorites—who unanimously declare victory: “Go up, for the Lord will give it into the hand of the king” (v. 6). One even dramatizes it with iron horns, promising total triumph. It feels spiritual! It feels unanimous! It gives the king exactly what his heart desires. Jehoshaphat, uneasy, asked whether there was not yet a prophet of the LORD. Ahab answered, “There is yet one man by whom we may inquire of the LORD, but I hate him, because he does not prophesy good concerning me, but evil. He is Micaiah son of Imlah” (v. 8). Here is the heart of the matter: Ahab did not want truth. He wanted validation. He had surrounded himself with voices shaped by his own lusts rather than by fidelity to the living God. When Micaiah was finally summoned, the messenger urged him to conform: “Please let your word be like the word of one of them, and speak favorably” (v. 13). Micaiah’s reply reveals the true prophet’s character: “As the LORD lives, what the LORD says to me, that I shall speak” (v. 14). After first giving a sarcastic echo of the false prophets, he declared the truth: Israel would be scattered like sheep without a shepherd, and the king would fall.

Pressed further, Micaiah reveals the heavenly scene:

“I saw the LORD sitting on His throne, and all the host of heaven standing by Him on His right and on His left. The LORD said, ‘Who will entice Ahab to go up and fall at Ramoth-gilead?’ … Then a spirit came forward and stood before the LORD and said, ‘I will go forth and be a deceiving spirit in the mouth of all his prophets.’ Then He said, ‘You are to entice him and prevail also. Go and do so.’ Now therefore, behold, the LORD has put a deceiving spirit in the mouth of all these your prophets, and the LORD has proclaimed disaster against you.” (1 Kings 22:19-23)“I saw the LORD sitting on His throne, and all the host of heaven standing by Him on His right and on His left. The LORD said, ‘Who will entice Ahab to go up and fall at Ramoth-gilead?’ … Then a spirit came forward and stood before the LORD and said, ‘I will go forth and be a deceiving spirit in the mouth of all his prophets.’ Then He said, ‘You are to entice him and prevail also. Go and do so.’ Now therefore, behold, the LORD has put a deceiving spirit in the mouth of all these your prophets, and the LORD has proclaimed disaster against you.” (1 Kings 22:19-23)

God is not the author of lies. He is light and in Him is no darkness at all. Yet in sovereign judgment—because Ahab had hardened his heart against repeated warnings through Elijah and others—the Lord permitted a deceiving spirit to enter the mouths of the prophets the king had already chosen for himself. The false prophets were not coerced against their inclination; their own bent toward pleasing the king was sovereignly amplified so that Ahab would receive precisely the counsel he craved, to his own ruin. Ahab responded by throwing Micaiah into prison on meager rations and marching into battle anyway—disguised, no less—only to be struck by a random arrow and die exactly as the true word had declared (vv. 26-37). The four hundred looked spiritual, confident, and united. Micaiah looked divisive and alone. Yet the providence of God proved whose word would stand. This passage is a terrifying illustration of divine judicial hardening. When a people (or a generation within the visible church) refuses to submit to the authority of God’s Word and instead demands teachers who tickle their ears, the Lord can ordain that the deception they love becomes the instrument of their judgment. The fragmentation, the cacophony of competing “prophetic” voices, the doctrinal chaos, and the weakness of the contemporary church are not mere sociological phenomena. In a profound sense, they are from God—permitted and ordered by the One who rules all things according to the counsel of His will (Ephesians 1:11).

Everybody wants to be a cat…

This dynamic explains the epidemic we face. In our age, nearly everyone wants to be a prophet. A platform grants the illusion of authority without the burden of accountability. A viral “word” offers influence without the long, cruciform work of character forged in the fire of ordinary means. Social media has democratized the prophetic impulse, rewarding novelty, emotional resonance, and self-expression over tested fidelity to Scripture. But biblical authority is never self-anointed. It is recognized through time, proven character, and submission to the apostolic pattern. Micaiah stood alone against four hundred because he feared God more than kings or crowds. How many of today’s self-appointed voices could endure being hated, imprisoned, or (to use the modern term) marginalized for declaring what the Lord actually says?

Want to know where this is the most obvious?the sheer volume of Christian podcasts, YouTube channels, and online teaching platforms launched especially by men in their twenties and thirties. What was once reserved for seasoned pastors who had labored for decades in local churches—preaching week after week, visiting the sick, counseling the troubled, disciplining the wayward, and submitting to the oversight of a plurality of elders—has become a cottage industry for the young and largely untested. Men barely out of seminary, or with no formal theological training whatsoever, launch shows with professional production values, offering confident opinions on theology, politics, cultural critique, and “biblical manhood.” They quickly amass thousands of listeners who treat their weekly episodes as virtual sermons, often prioritizing them over the preaching of their own local pastors.

Many of these creators are earnest. Some possess real intellectual gifts and a zeal for truth. A few may, by God’s grace, prove faithful over the long haul and transition into genuine pastoral ministry. Yet the dominant pattern reveals a profound disregard for the biblical order of authority and training. These men bypass the slow, humbling apprenticeship that Scripture demands. They skip the years of faithful membership, service in lowly tasks, and observation under elder rule that marked the formation of Timothy, Titus, and every qualified overseer. Instead, they leverage accessible technology to project authority before their doctrine has been refined in the heat of real congregational life, before their character has been tested in conflict resolution, hospital visits, or the mundane faithfulness required of every member of a local body. They speak as experts on the deep things of God when they have scarcely mastered the basics of sitting under authority themselves.

Its not just our young men, the church is being blemished by young women who desire to teach and exercise authority in disregard of God’s clear commands. Scripture is explicit. Paul writes to Timothy: “But I do not allow a woman to teach or exercise authority over a man, but to remain quiet. For it was Adam who was first created, and then Eve. And it was not Adam who was deceived, but the woman being deceived, fell into transgression” (1 Timothy 2:12-14, NASB95). This is not a cultural concession but a creation-order principle rooted in the distinct roles assigned by God at the beginning. Yet in our fragmented age, many women—often young and gifted—launch teaching ministries, podcasts, Bible studies open to mixed audiences, or online platforms that function as de facto pulpits. They bypass the beautiful, God-ordained role of older women teaching younger women “to love their husbands, to love their children, to be sensible, pure, workers at home, kind, being subject to their own husbands, so that the word of God will not be dishonored” (Titus 2:4-5, NASB95).

We cannot even get the basics of Titus 2 and 1 Timothy right, yet we rush headlong into leadership and public teaching. Young men neglect the patient cultivation of elder-qualified character and doctrinal stability before presuming to instruct the church at large. Young women set aside the Titus 2 mandate for domestic godliness and mutual encouragement among women in favor of broader platforms that inevitably involve teaching and exercising influence over men. Both reflect the same root rebellion: a refusal to submit to the boundaries God has placed upon His church for its good and for His glory. We want the fruit of maturity—recognition, influence, a hearing—without the costly process of growth under authority. We despise the ordinary means of grace in a local church and chase the extraordinary platforms of the internet.

The result is fragmentation on a massive scale. Listeners accumulate teachers according to their own desires, just as Paul warned. One young podcaster builds a following through sharp cultural analysis that flatters certain instincts. Another offers relational or therapeutic angles that soften the offense of the cross. Women’s teaching ministries often emphasize empowerment, emotional resonance, or niche applications that resonate with female audiences but blur the lines of biblical complementarity. Believers hop from one voice to another, never rooting deeply in a single local church under elders who know their names and watch over their souls (Hebrews 13:17). Churches fracture as members compare their pastor’s faithful but ordinary preaching unfavorably to the polished, unaccountable delivery of these online voices. The visible church grows weaker, not because there is a lack of content, but because there is a profound lack of submission to the tested, embodied authority Christ has established in His church through qualified elders.

In 1 Kings 22, the four hundred prophets were not outsiders; they were the established voices of the court. They had training of a sort, yet it was corrupted by the king’s desires. Their unanimous message sounded spiritual and confident, but it led Ahab—and the nation with him—straight to disaster. Today’s explosion of young voices—male and female—functions similarly. Many may sincerely believe they are serving the church, yet when their teaching is shaped more by audience metrics, cultural relevance, or personal charisma than by long submission to the Word and to qualified overseers, the outcome is the same: a multitude of flattering or novel words that confirm hearers in their preferences rather than conforming them to Christ.

God has allowed this among us. Not delighting in division, but as a righteous response to a church that has despised the ordinary means—faithful preaching, sacraments, and discipline—in favor of spectacle and self-affirmation. When we collectively refuse the slow wisdom of God and demand prophets (and prophetesses) who tickle our ears, He sovereignly permits the very marketplace of voices we crave.

Recovering the Pathway of Christ

If the diagnosis is biblical, then the remedy is not louder voices or cleverer strategies, but humble return to the historic Reformed commitment to the sufficiency and authority of Scripture.

First, recover true authority.

The Word of God alone is the final rule. Leaders in the church must meet the rigorous qualifications of 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1—not merely giftedness, but proven character, soundness in doctrine, and ability to refute error. “Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they keep watch over your souls as those who will give an account. Let them do this with joy and not with grief, for this would be unprofitable for you” (Hebrews 13:17, NASB95). Submission to rightly ordered elder rule is not optional; it is one of the chief safeguards against the very deception we have invited. Women are called to glorify God in the distinct roles of Titus 2, exercising profound influence through godly womanhood, hospitality, and the discipling of younger women—not by assuming the teaching office reserved for qualified men. I have had my own struggles with authority. I grew up in a home that lacked the basic love children need to survive. I was fired by the man who evangelized me as a Christian in my twenties because I refused to preach the false gospel that baptism necessitates salvation. The normal, standard authority figures in my life encouraged me to do all the very things I am calling out here. Yet the Scriptures do not allow me another pathway. It is submission to authority or foolish destruction. Uriah the Hittite is a far more faithful man than I will ever be in this area—standing firm in his place even when his king betrayed him.

Second, embrace rigorous, patient training.

Wisdom is not downloaded. It is cultivated over years of sitting under faithful preaching, wrestling with the text, and apprenticing under mature saints. Samuel grew up in the tabernacle. Elisha served Elijah faithfully for years before receiving the double portion. Paul spent time in Arabia and then under the church at Antioch. The prophetic guilds of Ahab’s day produced impressive form without substance because they served the king’s desires rather than the Lord’s. We must train the rising generation—not in performative prophecy or online influence, but in biblical literacy, confessional fidelity, and the patient discipline of the means of grace. Young men must learn to submit before they teach. Young women must master Titus 2 before expanding their sphere. I hate reading all the time. I am a people person by nature and enjoy my reading most when it is at my own pace and on books I choose. Yet when it is my responsibility—especially 250 pages a week during seminary on top of raising three children, running a campus ministry, and planting a church—it becomes difficult. Still, I have this role right now, and I must learn obedience in it. There is no shortcut around the grind if I am to feed Christ’s sheep faithfully.

Third, learn to fail faithfully as the path to mastery.

The Reformed tradition has always understood that sanctification and maturity come through striving, falling, and persevering by grace. Peter denied Christ three times and was restored. Paul learned contentment amid shipwrecks and thorns in the flesh. The great Reformers themselves endured exile, opposition, and apparent failure. Yet in our day we fear failure above all. We demand “guaranteed” prophetic success and airbrush our testimonies to remove the messy middle. When a professed word fails, we blame the hearer rather than test the spirit. Woodworking has been the most eye-opening teacher for me in this area. Working with my hands and failing constantly—measuring wrong, grain tearing out, joints not fitting—has taught me patience and steadiness in ways sermons alone never could. Mastery does not come on the first try or the tenth. It comes through faithful repetition under the discipline of reality. The same is true in the Christian life and in ministry. Micaiah was willing to be dismayed publicly—he knew prison and scorn awaited—yet he spoke truth. Ahab refused any counsel that risked exposing his rebellion. In fleeing the possibility of failure, he walked straight into the greater failure God had sovereignly ordained.

Churches that cultivate a culture of honest failure under the cross—where believers are taught to strive, repent, and persevere—will raise mature, stable saints. Those that promise constant triumph through prophetic shortcuts will produce fragile professors who wither under trial.

Now is not the time for that

The terrifying beauty of 1 Kings 22 is the absolute sovereignty of God. Even the deceiving spirit moves only by divine permission. The Lord is not the author of confusion, but when a people hardens itself against His Word and demands teachers who scratch their itching ears, He can ordain that those very voices become instruments of judgment.

This is no cause for despair. God truly can cause us to change. He can truly save us from this fragmentation and deception. But we must work. We must stop expecting things to change on their own. We must do the hard, laborious, and taxing work before our God—submitting to His Word, placing ourselves under faithful elders, committing to the slow discipline of training, and embracing the faithful failures that lead to maturity. Reformation does not happen by wishing or waiting for better circumstances. It happens when ordinary believers, by the power of the Holy Spirit, resolve to walk the narrow way of obedience, one costly step at a time.

You want to start helping Christianity?

• First, audit your intake. Make a list of the podcasts, YouTube channels, teachers, and social media accounts you regularly consume. Ask honestly: Do these voices consistently drive me back to the pure preaching of my local church and submission to Scripture, or do they subtly undermine it? Delete or mute those that feed itching ears, even if they feel helpful or entertaining. Replace them with systematic listening to faithful expositional preaching from your own elders or trusted Reformed ministers who are accountable to a local church.
• Second, commit to a local church under real authority. If you are not already a member of a confessional Reformed church with qualified elders, join one and submit to its teaching and discipline. Attend consistently, serve humbly in unglamorous roles, and seek regular accountability from an elder who knows your name and your struggles. For families, make it a priority to discuss the sermon together at the table each Lord’s Day rather than rushing to the next online hot take.
• Third, embrace the slow work of training. Set aside dedicated time each week for deep reading of Scripture and solid Reformed books—start small if 250 pages feels overwhelming. Read with a pen in hand, take notes, and discuss what you learn with others in your church. Young men: pursue mentorship under an elder before launching any public teaching. Young women: invest in the Titus 2 pattern by learning from and encouraging older godly women in your congregation, focusing on home and church life before seeking wider influence.
• Fourth, welcome faithful failure as part of growth. When you stumble in obedience—whether in family worship, personal discipline, or serving the church—confess it quickly, receive gospel restoration, and keep going. In your woodworking, garden, or daily work, notice how repeated small failures build skill; apply the same patience to spiritual formation. Teach your children that perseverance through difficulty is the normal Christian path, not constant success.

At Christ the King Church in the Keweenaw, we are a small, ordinary Reformed church plant committed to these very things. We are learning together that real reformation begins in the quiet faithfulness of ordinary means: the preached Word, the sacraments, prayer, and mutual accountability. It is hard, slow, and often unglamorous work—but it is the work that endures. May God bless this work, and the work of the churches of Evangel Presbytery that are attempting to bring this historic truth back to the forefronts of our minds, that we would, once agian, be a delight to our Lord Jesus Christ and our God the Father, through the Holy Spirit.