Radio Silence
Radio silence. That’s what it looks like since August—less chatter on Facebook, fewer posts on the blog, no endless scroll of noise. The world thinks I’ve gone dark since someone hacked my Facebook and I had to show up here. But silence? Don’t mistake it. This isn’t retreat. This is liberation.
This is no retreat, no surrender!
The grifters can’t find me now. No more phantom orphanages with borrowed pictures, no more scams wrapped in Scripture. No more, “Please send money,” only to investigate and discover there is no orphanage. And with the static cleared out, I’ve found something priceless: peace in the valley. Real peace. The kind Elvis sang about, the kind that bleeds into your bones and soul through the daily giving of yourself to prayer and the Word:
Acts 6:4 KJVS
But we will give ourselves continually to prayer, and to the ministry of the word.
But let’s not lie—I haven’t been silent. Not even close. I’ve been transformed. Romans 12:2 calls it metamorphoo— metamorphosis. The same word used when Christ’s face blazed like the sun on the Mount of Transfiguration. That’s what’s happening inside me–a transformation, an inner transfiguration, a metamorphosis. I’m no longer conformed to this world. I’m not a shadow of Little Johnny anymore. The Word of God has detonated inside me, reshaping me until the Light burns through my pores and spills out onto the street.
I saw it happen with Carlos. His English was broken, but his need wasn’t. He sat in that hospital room shared with Brother Tom whom I’d gone to see. Carlos fumbled for words while I fumbled for napkins to clean up spilled water on his tray. But when I prayed with him—hand in hand, voice filled with emotion, Google Translator as my bridge—it wasn’t me speaking. It was the Word alive inside me, Living Scripture pushing past borders and barriers, cutting deeper than language ever could. That wasn’t silence. That was the roar of God through the crack of an open vessel.
John 15:5–7 (paraphrased):
“I am the vine and you are the branches. Stay connected to Me and your life will overflow with fruit, but apart from Me you can do nothing. Cut off, you wither and are thrown into the fire. But if you remain in Me and let My words live in you, your prayers will carry power and be answered.”
Isaiah said it long ago: line upon line, precept upon precept. The teachers called it baby steps, God drilling truth into dull ears. Paul took it further: since they wouldn’t listen, God would thunder in strange tongues, a warning before judgment fell. And history proves it—Acts 2 lit the flame, Rome brought the hammer with the destruction of the temple and a People for over two-thousand-years.
And here’s the truth: the Word is no fragile relic. It’s a sword that slices to marrow, a fire that sets hearts ablaze, a hammer that smashes pride to dust. I used to preach Little Johnny’s sermons (I am little Johnny), and people wept politely. But now? Now the Lion roars. The Word preaches itself. And when it lands, people don’t just weep—they crumble, they break, they rise again remade. The Way the Word is supposed to be.
Call it Wonderful. Call it Counselor. Call it the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace. This Word is Christ Himself, loosed into the world like a lion freed from its cage. You don’t defend it—you unleash this Lion from the Tribe of Judah. And the mighty Truth defends Himself with fire and thunder once unleashed from the cage of your heart.
So don’t let the quiet fool you. This “radio silence” is louder than ever. But I am blessed in this radio silence, and so is my congregation. For I’ve been preaching about them abiding in the Word, and they’re beginning to meditate upon the Word of God day and night (Joshua 1:8; Psalm 1:1-3).
The Word of God truly blesses us all!