When “Thus Saith The Lord” Becomes A Brand Slogan

A fortune cookie cracked open on top of a gilded Bible, with gold glitter spilling out and a paper message reading “Your destiny is unlocking soon!” — DALL-E

It’s prophecy season again — and wouldn’t you know it? God’s apparently very concerned with your Q4 breakthrough and your destiny being unlocked. Blessings are coming, doors are opening, and the algorithm has confirmed: your next season is going to be your best yet.

At least, that’s what the prophets are saying — well, the ones with merch tables and ministries that sound more like hedge funds. These aren’t the wild-eyed truth-tellers of old. No, today’s prophets are smooth-talking spiritual brand reps peddling divine affirmation like it’s organic granola. The only thing they’re calling down is engagement rates.

Let’s be clear: this isn’t prophecy. It’s PR.

Prophets: Ruining Dinner Parties Since 700 BCE

In the biblical tradition, prophets weren’t motivational speakers with a heavenly LinkedIn. They didn’t hand out affirmations or write books about personal branding through divine favor. Their job — and it was a miserable one — was to call God’s people to account. Not the outsiders. Not the pagans. Not the atheists or the liberals. The insiders. The ones who claimed to know better.

Take Jeremiah, who spent so much time weeping he basically wrote the Old Testament’s version of a depressive blog. Or Amos, a fig-picker turned divine whistleblower who told Israel their worship songs made God want to vomit. Then there’s Elijah, who made enemies of kings, mocked idol worshippers, and had to live in hiding. Nobody was putting these guys on conference panels. They weren’t keynote speakers — they were divine killjoys.

Prophets didn’t cozy up to power. They called it out. Loudly. Publicly. And often fatally.

When Prophecy Becomes a Vibe Check

Somewhere along the line, we traded in that legacy for something softer. Today’s prophets don’t weep for injustice — they promise upgrades. They don’t warn the nation — they whisper sweet nothings about your anointing. It’s prophecy as a mood board.

Gone are the days of sackcloth and ashes. Now it’s hashtags and influencer reels. “God told me you’re stepping into a new season” has all the depth of a Target throw pillow. The result? A spirituality so sanitized it couldn’t convict a fruit fly of sin.

These are not prophets. They’re spiritual hype men. They specialize in prophetic clickbait — all promise, no consequence. And when they’re wrong (which is often), they don’t repent. They just pivot.

Jesus Didn’t Flip Tables for the Romans

Let’s not forget: Jesus operated squarely in the prophetic tradition. And like the prophets before him, he saved his sharpest critiques for those inside the system — not outside it. His “woes” weren’t aimed at pagans or prostitutes. They were leveled at religious leaders who weaponized holiness to prop up power.

Jesus didn’t say, “Woe to the sinners.” He said, “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees” — the gatekeepers, the rule-makers, the spiritual CEOs of his day. If Jesus walked into most churches today, he’d probably start flipping tables again. But this time, they’d be merch tables with “anointed oil” and “Trump: God’s Chosen” bumper stickers.

He’d rage against Christian nationalism, prosperity gospel, and pulpit-packing grifters who preach obedience to empire while cosplaying as prophets.

The Grift in Prophetic Clothing

Let’s talk about the “Trump prophets.” You know the ones. They declared, with full chest and zero doubt, that God told them Trump would win in 2020. He didn’t. And rather than admit they might’ve confused divine revelation with YouTube ragebait, they doubled down. The prophecies didn’t fail — the system was rigged. Or it was spiritual warfare. Or it was still going to happen… just later. Or in another realm. Or after lunch.

And still, people follow them.

Why? Because prophecy has become product. And like any good product, it doesn’t have to be true. It just has to sell.

The Price of the Real Thing

Prophets of old weren’t trending. They were tortured. They didn’t collect royalties — they collected scars. And often, tombstones.

The moment your “prophet” gets invited to speak at a megachurch with a fog machine and security team, you can probably assume they’re not walking the same path as Amos or Jeremiah. True prophets are inconvenient. They don’t protect your comfort; they attack it. They don’t reinforce your superiority — they reveal your complicity.

The truth is: real prophecy costs something. Sometimes everything.

So Let’s Be Honest…

If your prophet always makes you feel seen but never uncomfortable…
If they never confront power, just whisper to it…
If they keep calling out “the world” but never “the church”…
Then congratulations — you’re not listening to a prophet.
You’ve hired a spiritual publicist.