Prophetic Update | Prophet Charlie Shamp

I heard the Spirit of the Lord say, “The parable of the ten virgins is your mirror (Matthew 25:1-13). Don’t allow your lamps to flicker with diluted oil! Never allow your hearts to grow estranged from My presence. The foolish clamor for platforms in this hour but scorn the secret place. The oil of preparedness is found only in the wilderness of prayer, the midnight watch, the brokenness of a flame lit altar. No borrowed flame will suffice now! Ministries built on sand will crumble, while the Rock of my word shall stand. Let no man say, “Thus saith the Lord,” unless My fire consumes their lips!

I am summoning Elijahs from Cherith’s brook;  prophets who eat ravens’ bread and defy Baal’s priests. They will confront the Jezebel spirit enthroned in nations and a people drunk on the wine of compromise. These voices will tear down Asherah’s poles the vanity, the divisions, the lust for influence and anoint a remnant with fresh oil.

You are in the Age of Hollow Visions! Your screens have become portals to a counterfeit kingdom, where the Stranger peddles empty promises of freedom. The lies flicker in pixels; promises of fulfillment that leave souls starved, half truths twisted into meaningless memes, and hearts bound by chains that keep you endlessly scrolling.

Flee! Let the Barefoot Ones guide you; those unshackled from comfort, who tread scorched earth with the Word of the Lord upon their lips. In the wastelays of worldly culture lays the landfills of excess, prison cells of addiction that end in death. My fire calls you to a higher place that burns the brightest with uncreated light from my throne. Watch as a consecrated people emerge in this hour, bearing a coal from Heaven’s altar. Where they walk, the Veil tears. Barren hearts will blaze with truth and the wasteland itself will bloom as they step foot upon its dry ground. The Age of Mirrors and mirages ends when My Bride chooses sight over screens and Glory over Entertainment.

I’m calling my Bride to an Era of Open Eyes. The throne room beckons. Let the Isaiah’s arise! The seraphim gather, their wings thundering with holy fire, crying “Holy, holy, holy!” over lands grown cold with rituals and religion. The gates of Paradise only open with a groan. A host marches forth ones who drank the cup of encounter. Their eyes blaze with a light no darkness dares confront. They walk with scrolls in their bellies, their feet shod with direction. Where they tread, chains shatter. Where they speak, deserts bloom!

I am summoning voices to these wilderness places; prophets unshaken by compromise, shepherds who carry My heart, and a generation unafraid to burn. They will tear down these idols, mend broken covenants, and prepare the soil for harvest. Do not fear the night. As I fed Elijah with ravens’ bread, so I will sustain those who cling to My Word. Hidden streams of renewal already flow. Where darkness thickens, My light pierces deeper. The deep calls out to the deep! A tidal wave of awakening is coming not by might, but by My Spirit. The broken will mend, the bound will leap free, and prodigals will return home.

Even now the remnant stirs to go higher still.

They refuse to kneel and remain unbowed, their robes unspotted. They cry; ‘Prepare the way! Sanctify the vessels!’ The whirlwind of My breath will scourge demonic altars. The fire of Carmel descends anew to consume and to refine. The sword of Jehu rides at midnight; the harlot’s paint will be washed in tears of repentance.

Can you hear the crow’s cry at dawn?

The ravens of provision fly to those who dwell by the brook Cherith; the humble, the hungry, the undefiled. Oil and meal multiply in jars of the obedient. The lame leap, even the spiritually blind see the lightning coming from Jerusalem as a sign! The cancer of unbelief melts as wax before the flame of my presence.

Can you hear The Northern Bear and the Lion’s Roar? The Bear of the North (Russia) stirs, its claws sharpened by ambition. While the West feasts on decadence, blind to the frost creeping at its gates. Three crowns Russia attempts to devour; the wolf’s hunger, the eagle’s pride, the hammer’s sickle,

It longs to Twist them into a single scepter in Putin’s fist. Russia’s shadow lengthens, but the Lion of Judah roars louder. The womb of Russia grows cold, colder than any winter. A nation’s strength is its people. When cradles empty and graves multiply, even iron empires crumble. The Bear’s conquests will rot, reclaimed by the forest. His legacy? A map of dust. I say, Putin’s hour fades and your reign is coming to an end.

The fig tree buds; the hour is late but the end is not yet. Before the moon turns to blood, I will send My reapers. The grapes of wrath are trodden, but the oil of joy flows for the sanctified. Dictators fall. Regimes shatter. But the people endure. When the Lion of the Desert roars beneath a crescent moon, and the Iron Eagle’s wings cast shadows over ancient sands, the skies shall bleed crimson.

From Tehran’s streets to Jerusalem’s hills, the oppressed will chant a single word; Enough. The flames of war may scorch the earth, but beneath the ashes, green shoots climb toward the sun.

Let Shreveport, St. Louis, Chicago, Atlanta and every city of the heartland hear; The Lion of Judah roars with Revival over Riots. Tragedy comes to Colorado, but I silence the tempests of chaos for those who dwell in My secret place.

Look at the Daystar it arises! Woe unto the hypocrites who wear holiness as a mask, You polish the Ark but forsake the New Covenant!

But for the seekers the ones who rend their hearts, not garments I will strip the scales from their eyes. You will dream in technicolor visions again. You will walk through prisons unshackled, your shadow will carry deliverance. The orphaned will call you “Father.” The nations will name you “Repairer of Breaches.” For this encounter changed your name.

America, your land sway as Eden but hide serpents in the wheat. Secret cells of terror are in your midst. Pray! The enemy attempts to fracture America further. Trump, isolated yet unyielding, continues to vow to ‘punish the enemies of freedom,’ but his arsenal to bring back America stretches thin. The left continues to decry “no king”; the right splinters furth between isolationists and hawks. Tulsi Gabbard, Beware the vipers who cloak themselves in virtue; they will seek to silence you.

There is lies a Beast Beneath you America. Beware the beast with a thousand eyes, its tendrils deep, its venom disguised. Elon Musk and Peter Thiel walk hand in hand in hand in a merger of technology.

America Two paths lie before you;

-The Broad Way: A descent into desolation, where the sun sets on My favor, and the harvest rots in the field. The strength of your towers will falter, and discord shall devour your land.

The Narrow Way: A return to the ancient paths, where repentance rains like oil, healing the land. The seas of rebellion and riots will calm. The breath of My Spirit will revive the dry bones of your fathers’ faith.

The winds whisper of a crossroads where steel clashes with silk, and the fates of nations tremble.  A cry goes up, "China, China, China!"

Beware the tempest brewed by pride, for china walks a razor’s edge on the brink of economic collapse. As winter looms, China moves. Taiwan braces as warships circle.

Watch! For the serpent coils in the UK, in the halls of power I hear a shatter suddenly, then silence, as a wine cup drops.

-Prophet Charlie Shamp