By now everyone knows I have a soft spot for the Old Testament.It just feels extra tangible to me, no offence to the Spirit dispensation.
Let’s look at a few of these raw stories we sometimes pass through as if they’re just literary work.
Take Ezekiel. God told this man to lie on his side for hundreds of days, build miniature siege models, and essentially become a living prophetic performance art piece. Imagine trying to explain that to your neighbors.
“Morning, Ezekiel.”
“Morning. Just acting out national judgment again.”
No applause. No brand deals. No viral moment. Just obedience that looked ridiculous before it looked meaningful.
Then there’s Jeremiah — often called the weeping prophet, which already tells you everything you need to know about his vibe. God gave Jeremiah messages nobody wanted to hear. He warned people. They ignored him. He cried. They mocked him. He got thrown into pits and prisons for simply saying what God told him to say.
Jeremiah’s ministry wasn’t glamorous. It was emotionally exhausting. He was faithful in rooms where faithfulness wasn’t celebrated.
And honestly, many of us know that feeling.
You try to stay kind in a cynical workplace.
You keep serving your family even when nobody says thank you.
You choose integrity while everyone else cuts corners.
You obey God in seasons where there is no visible reward.
It can feel painfully ordinary.
Or awkward.
Or invisible.
Then comes Micah — a prophet from a small town with a simple but piercing message: do justice, love mercy, walk humbly with God. No theatrics. No celebrity energy. Just steady truth in a noisy world.
Micah reminds us that obscurity does not reduce significance. Heaven has never measured impact the same way humans do.
God often does His deepest work in hidden places.
Seeds grow underground first.
And then there’s my favorite wild card: John the Baptist.
This man dressed in camel hair, ate bugs and honey, lived in the wilderness, and yelled at people near rivers.
If John existed today, people would avoid eye contact with him at church conferences.
Yet Jesus said there was no one greater born among women than John.
Think about that.
The man who looked socially unhinged was spiritually anchored.
John understood something many of us struggle to accept: your assignment does not have to look polished to be holy.
Sometimes God calls you into spaces that feel uncomfortable because comfort would make you dependent on applause instead of Him.
Obscurity has a way of exposing motives.
Would you still obey if nobody reposted it?
Would you still serve if nobody celebrated it?
Would you still trust God if the assignment felt strange, lonely, or deeply inconvenient?
That’s the hard question hidden inside these prophetic lives.
We love stories of destiny, but we rarely talk about the awkward middle parts:
- the years of being misunderstood
- the seasons where nothing makes sense
- the moments where obedience makes you look foolish
- the quiet faithfulness no one claps for
But perhaps those hidden places are not punishment.
Perhaps they are preparation.
Because obscurity teaches things visibility never can:
- humility
- endurance
- sincerity
- dependence on God instead of validation
And maybe the greatest freedom is realizing you do not have to be impressive to be useful.
You do not have to be loud to be called.
You do not have to be platformed to be purposeful.
You do not have to understand every instruction before taking the next faithful step.
Sometimes holiness looks less like spotlight moments and more like awkward obedience.
Like Ezekiel lying on his side.
Like Jeremiah crying through rejection.
Like Micah faithfully speaking truth from a forgotten town.
Like John the Baptist eating locusts and preparing the way for Jesus.
None of them looked successful by worldly standards.
But heaven measured them differently.
So if your season feels hidden…
If your obedience feels unnoticed…
If your calling currently feels more confusing than cinematic…
You may be closer to biblical normal than you think.
God has always done extraordinary things through people willing to look ordinary, awkward, or obscure in the process.
