The Prophetic Pitfall: Testing the Spirits in an Age of Celebrity
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Discernment Over Prophetic Hype I remember sitting in a room with a woman who was a psychic. She charged a lot of money for her sessions, and famous people would quietly come to her for readings. There wasn't a smell of incense, but there was a power—a spirit—that was just coursing through my soul. I was writhing. I couldn't... I don't know how to explain it, but there was this energy coming through my solar plexus. It was like she was sucking information out of my soul. She started rattling off names of my relatives and friends—names she couldn't possibly have known—and details about my past and about my friends that made the hair on my arms stand up. At the time, I thought it was a "gift." I thought I was touching the divine. She told me things about my past that were so specific I felt naked before her. I remember the rush of adrenaline, that sense of being "known" by the universe. I was hooked. I wanted more of that feeling, more of that secret ...