The Prophetic Cessationist: How God Used a Bowl of Chili to Warm Cold Souls

Prophetic Chili in the Cold

I am sitting here in my house, surrounded by walls that block the wind, wearing a sweatshirt that keeps me comfortable, and worrying about sound levels for a podcast. Meanwhile, outside my window, the Gulf Coast is plunging into the 20s.

It is a bone-chilling cold. The kind of cold that hurts your face if you stand in it too long. And as I sit here, warm and safe, the Holy Spirit begins to agitate my spirit. It is that familiar tug—the one that says comfort is not the calling. There are people out there right now, shivering in thin nylon windbreakers, charging their phones on public outlets just to stay connected to a world that has largely forgotten them.

We often sit in our prayer closets crying, "Oh Lord, woe is me," focusing on our own internal struggles, when the quickest path to healing our own souls is to step out and bring healing to someone else. I have found that when we stop focusing on our own lack and start addressing the lack in others, the Kingdom of God shows up in ways that defy our theology and our expectations.

This weekend, that lesson came wrapped in a scarf made from a dollar-store blanket and a bowl of chili prophesied by a man who doesn’t even believe prophecy exists anymore.

The Cold Reality of Ministry

We knew the freeze was coming. Early in the week, Susan and I looked at the forecast and saw those plummeting numbers. It is easy to look at a weather report and just turn up your own thermostat, but when you have a heart for the harvest, a freeze warning is a deployment order.

Jesus didn’t just preach to souls; He fed bodies. I was reminded of the time the multitudes followed Him into the wilderness. They had been with Him three days, and He had compassion on them because they were hungry. He didn't want to send them away fainting. There was a physical need that had to be met before the spiritual dismissal.

I realized that this weekend, there was going to be an absence of warmth. And while I am not saying we are the saviors of the world, I knew we could help them be warm while we talked to them about the One who saves.

We had been inspired by a memory that popped up on my Facebook feed from "Merge Memphis." Years ago, on a rainy day, a woman named Sherry showed us how to make these little goodie bags for the homeless—wool caps, gloves, simple necessities. We met a lady named Valerie there who taught us a "Kingdom key" of economics: you can take a fleece blanket from Walmart, use some scissors and thread, and create high-quality scarves for about a dollar a piece.

So, armed with scissors, fabric, and a desire to be the hands and feet of Jesus, we prepared for the cold.

The Dollar Store and the Unlikely Prophet

Before heading to the park where we knew the homeless gathered, we made a run to the dollar store. We wanted to stock up because there is a terrible, sinking feeling you get when you run out of supplies while a line of people is still standing there. You never want to look into the eyes of the last person in line and say, "I have nothing left for you."

We were wearing our "Hashtag Jesus" shirts. These aren't subtle. They are bold conversation starters. I had layers of thermal gear underneath mine to stay warm, but the message was on the outside. As we were walking in, a couple stopped us.

"Hey, like your shirt," the man said.

Now, the flesh wants to say, "Thanks, dude," and keep walking to get out of the cold. But the Spirit said, engage. I asked him, "What is your relationship with Jesus?"

That one question turned a passing compliment into a sidewalk church service. We stood there in the freezing wind, exchanging ideas, linking arms in the spirit, and making what I call a "Kingdom Connection." Too often in the Body of Christ, we practice a "catch and release" system. We meet someone, bless them, and let them swim away. But we need to be jointly fit together. I gave him my card, we connected, and we united the body right there in the parking lot.

But the real surprise waited for us inside.

We ran into a man named Dean. Now, I have met Dean many times at Pascagoula Beach Park. He is a scholar of the Word, a man who can quote theology and discuss the Bible for hours. But Dean is also a cessationist.

For those who might not know, a cessationist believes that the supernatural gifts of the Spirit—prophecy, tongues, healing—ceased with the death of the apostles. They believe God stopped speaking in those direct, supernatural ways comfortably long ago.

I call Dean my "hit-and-run mentor" because despite our theological differences, iron sharpens iron. We were talking, getting excited about helping people, and he was giving us ideas on where to buy supplies. As we were leaving and loading the truck, Dean drove by, rolled down his window, and shouted a question that seemed completely random.

"Do you know where I can get some really good chili?"

We paused. It was freezing cold. We were talking about gloves and hats. And suddenly, chili?

Susan immediately piped up, "Oh, Wendy's, man! Wendy's has great chili and it's cheap."

Dean nodded and drove off. It seemed like a throwaway comment. It bugged Susan more than it bugged me. Why would he ask that? But we shrugged it off and headed to the park, not realizing that the cessationist had just given us a word of knowledge that would guide the rest of our night.

The Starfish and the Skateboarder

When we arrived at the park, it was a ghost town. It was so cold that even the homeless people, who usually hang out in the sunny spots during the day, were in hiding.

We eventually spotted a head bobbing up and down behind a concrete barrier near the skate park. It was William.

I have talked about William before. He is a man in his sixties who has fallen through the cracks of society. He is like a grandfather figure to the local skater kids. He espouses wisdom to them, and in return, they look out for him—they even gave him a bicycle once so he wouldn't have to walk everywhere.

William was shivering. He had a jacket, but his head was bare, and his hands were freezing. We were able to give him a wool cap, gloves, and one of those homemade fleece scarves. You could see the relief wash over him physically.

We prayed with him, and I couldn't help but think of the starfish story. You know the one—a boy is throwing starfish back into the ocean one by one. An old man tells him, "Son, there are thousands of them. You can't possibly make a difference." The boy tosses another one in and says, "I made a difference to that one."

William was our starfish. We couldn't warm the whole city, but William was warm.

While we were ministering to William, I saw a skinny girl walking aggressively fast down the street nearby. She was wearing thin sweatpants and a light shirt—completely inadequate for the weather. She looked like she was fleeing something, or maybe just walking fast to generate body heat.

By the time we finished with William, she was gone. She had vanished down the street, and we lost her.

The Illogical Detour

We got back in the truck, and we did what we always do—we asked the Boss for directions. "Lord, where do You want us to go?"

The answer didn't make sense. I felt a pull toward Pascagoula Beach Park. Now, logically, this was foolish. That park is right on the water. It is the coldest, windiest place you could possibly go, and nobody hangs out there during a freeze.

But we have learned that when the logic of the mind conflicts with the witness of the Spirit, you follow the Spirit.

We drove toward the beach, which required us to cut through a very rough neighborhood. I am talking about a place where you lock your doors and keep moving. And there, walking down the side of the road, was the skinny girl. Her name was Brandy.

"Susan, stop the truck."

We rolled down the window. "Hey, could you use some scarves and a wool cap?"

Her face lit up. "Yes!"

We pulled over in the middle of this dangerous neighborhood. I could feel the eyes of the community on us. People were watching from porches and windows, wondering what these people in the "Jesus" shirts were doing.

Brandy was shaking. We gave her the warm gear, gave her some snacks, and then we began to minister.

We try to give people what I call "Kingdom Keys." It is written in Hosea 4:6, "My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge." Often, people are in terrible pits because they lack the specific knowledge or wisdom to get out. They blame the government, their ex-spouses, or their bad luck.

Brandy had a story, like they all do. But as we stood there in the cold, we didn't just give her a scarf; we gave her presence. Presence evangelism is powerful. Sometimes you don't need a sermon; you just need to bring the presence of the Holy Spirit into their atmosphere.

We prayed for her. I asked the Lord to show her the truth of her situation. We waited in silence—just thirty seconds of quiet. Suddenly, her head lifted. She gasped, "Oh my." She saw it. The Holy Spirit convicted and revealed something to her that my words never could have.

As we drove away, watching her wrap that scarf tighter around her neck, I realized something profound. If we had not listened to the illogical instruction to go to the empty beach park, we never would have driven down that specific street. We never would have found Brandy.

And here is the kicker: she had walked past four massive church buildings to get there. All of them were locked tight. We, the living church, had to meet her in the street because the brick-and-mortar church had closed its doors against the cold.

The Prophecy of the Chili

We went home to warm up and nap, but Susan could not let go of the chili comment.

"Dean asked about chili," she kept saying. "Maybe we should start a chili ministry. Maybe we should buy dollar chilies and take them to the forest."

"Dude, calm down with the chili thing," I told her.

But I realized I hadn't thawed anything for dinner. So, almost by default, we decided to go to Wendy's. The same Wendy's Dean had asked about.

As we walked in, I saw him. A man sitting in a booth, looking utterly defeated. He had taken his shoes off and placed them on the counter—a sign that he was trying to dry them out or warm his feet. He was wearing a windbreaker and a jogging outfit in 20-degree weather.

He was limping.

I knew instantly we were supposed to talk to him. His name was Michael. He went outside for a moment, leaving his shoes, so I followed him.

Michael was broken. He had a dispute with a family member—a fight so severe that he was willing to freeze on the streets rather than resolve it, or perhaps the family member was willing to let him freeze. It made me think of how we treat people. We feel guilty dropping a dog off in the woods, yet we let human beings, created in the image of God, freeze over relational offenses.

We brought Michael out to the truck. We didn't have much left, but we had enough. We bundled him up. We prayed over him. There were tears—manly tears, but tears nonetheless.

"How did you know?" he asked us. "How did you know I needed this?"

I looked at him and thought about the sovereignty of God.

"God feeds the sparrows," I told him. "He feeds the crows. The rain falls on the just and the unjust. It doesn't matter who was wrong in the argument right now. Jesus wants you warm."

We found out there was a business across the street letting him stay warm for a bit, but he was slipping through the cracks of the system. We did what we could, gave him resources, and pointed him toward safety.

As we sat there eating our chili afterwards, Susan looked at me. "The chili," she whispered.

She was right. Dean, the cessationist—the man who believes God stopped speaking to people in Acts—had been used by the Holy Spirit to guide us to Michael. If Dean hadn't asked that weird question, and if Susan hadn't fixated on it, we would have eaten at home. Michael would have remained cold.

Personal Reflections

I learned something powerful this weekend about the humor and relentlessness of God. He will use anyone to get His will accomplished. He used a "hashtag Jesus" shirt to open a door at a dollar store. He used an illogical urge to drive to an empty beach to find a girl in a bad neighborhood. And He used a cessationist to prophesy a dinner appointment with a homeless man at Wendy's.

It reminded me of the verse in James 5:16 (KJV), "Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed."

When we went out to heal others—to warm William, Brandy, and Michael—we were the ones who got healed. My own spiritual apathy was broken off. The coldness in my own heart was replaced by the fire of God's compassion.

I also realized we need to be better prepared. It is not enough to just say "God bless you." We need to know where the shelters are. We need to know the laws about driver's licenses for the homeless. We need to be wise as serpents and harmless as doves.

Biblical References

Throughout this adventure, the Word of God was coming alive:

• Matthew 25:40 (KJV): "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." Every scarf we tied was tied around the neck of Jesus.
• Acts 16:13 (KJV): "And on the sabbath we went out of the city by a river side, where prayer was wont to be made..." Just like Paul went to the river expecting to find prayer, we went to the park. Sometimes the church isn't in the building; it's by the riverside or the skateboard ramp.
• John 8:32 (KJV): "And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." This is the ultimate goal. The scarf warms the body, but the Truth liberates the spirit.

Key Takeaways

• God Uses Everyone: Do not discount anyone's input. A cessationist can give you a prophetic word if God chooses to speak through them.
• Follow the Nudge: The Holy Spirit often leads us in directions that make zero logical sense (like going to a beach park in a freeze). Obedience yields fruit.
• Presence Over Preaching: Sometimes people don't need a sermon; they need you to stand with them in the cold and bring the atmosphere of Heaven.
• Be Prepared: Ministry is practical. It's knowing how to make a $1 scarf, knowing where the shelters are, and having supplies ready in your truck.

Conclusion

We made a difference to a few "starfish" this weekend. We didn't solve homelessness in our city. We didn't empty the shelters. But William has a hat. Brandy has a scarf. Michael knows that God sees him.

And I learned that God is speaking all the time—through Facebook memories, through weather forecasts, and yes, even through bowls of chili.

I want to encourage you to dig deeper and go higher. Don't just listen to the podcast; become the podcast. step out of your warm house and find someone who needs the warmth of Jesus.

Action Items

• Prepare a "Go Bag": Go to Walmart or the dollar store. Get some fleece blankets, cut them up, and make scarves. Keep them in your car. You can't give what you don't have.
• Kingdom Connections: When you meet someone doing ministry, don't just take their business card. Friend them on Facebook right then and there. Put them in a "Discipleship" list and engage with them. Stop the "catch and release" cycle.
• Research Your City: Find out where the homeless can go when it freezes. Find out where they can get a free meal. Have that information ready to give along with the gospel.
• Listen for the "Chili": Pay attention to the random comments people make. Ask the Holy Spirit, "Is there a divine appointment hidden in this?"

Until we meet again, dig deeper and go higher at ConradRocks.net.