Beware of Vagabond Ministers

Let me tell you the story of Mike the Prophet…

In the late 90s, I taught a series of neighborhood Bible studies that were quite popular. It wasn’t uncommon to have 30-40 teens show up at these Friday night studies. On a few occasions, attendance swelled to 75-110 teens. The popularity stemmed from a simple formula and a lot of teens who were “inviters.” We gathered, hung out, ate good food, studied a chapter of Scripture, prayed, and then hung out some more. It was always a good time, and the buzz attracted people from all over. As a matter of fact, one of those people was my future wife.

These Bible studies weren’t sponsored or overseen by any particular church. My pastors knew I was leading them and occasionally asked how they were going, but that was the extent of their involvement. I was the de facto leader, having taken over the teaching portion from my friend Kurt. There was no formal leadership or accountability. Our main host family, the Liskes, had a ton of influence and definitely helped steer things in a constructive direction. I was only 18 when I took over, and looking back, it’s amazing how well-ordered and edifying these studies were for years.

Of course, buzz and numbers attract all kinds of people, including what I came to call “vagabond ministers.” I borrowed the phrase from Scott Manetsch’s Calvin’s Company of Pastors, where he describes:

“Reformed churches in France regularly confronted the problem of self-appointed itinerant ministers known as vagrants or vagabonds (coureurs) who traveled about, causing dissensions and usurping leadership of local churches without official authorization or a legitimate vocation. Some of these vagabond ministers had been deposed from previous charges for moral failure or doctrinal error; others had never been properly ordained to the pastoral office; still others were self-styled prophets who spewed forth all manner of confusion and heresy. The problem was so widespread that the official minutes of the French national synods maintained a 'list of vagabonds' (role des coureurs) to warn reformed congregations about specific preachers.”

These types of guys showed up at our Bible studies more than a few times. The lack of formal leadership and accountability seemed to make us especially attractive to self-appointed vagabond ministers.

The most memorable of these was a guy named Mike. He was a couple of years older than me, probably 23 or so. Mike dominated our Bible study discussion time—he loved to talk. They usually do. He shared all sorts of fanciful interpretations about the end times and claimed that God spoke to him frequently, often through dreams.

The attendees came from all sorts of church backgrounds, and our hosts were fairly charismatic and dispensational in their theology. At the time, I was still semi-charismatic and not reformed at all, so these kinds of things occasionally came up in our circles. That said, I didn’t trust Mike at all—I smelled a wolf.

Mike stuck around for a few weeks. Early on, he pulled me aside to share a prophecy God had supposedly given him for me. It went something like this:

“Michael, God told me that you are going to be one of His end-time generals in the coming great revival. I think you know this, Michael, don’t you? We are being called to do great things.”

“Mike, I’m fine with whatever God wants to do, but I’m not changing my day-to-day. I’m just going to read my Bible, pray, go to church, and work. Speaking of which, where do you attend church?”

“Michael, you’re not ready for this yet, are you?”

“Apparently not. So where do you go to church?”

“I don’t believe in denominations. I belong to the Church.”

“I see. So, you don’t attend church.”

“Let’s talk later, Michael.”

“Eh, let’s not.”

Mike’s prophecies meant nothing to me. I’d heard all that kind of talk before during the Laughing Revival (Google it). I thought he was a fraud, and he knew it. Needless to say, our relationship was rocky from that point forward. He began trying to poison others against me: “Michael has a tendency to quench the Spirit, doesn’t he?”

Mike the Prophet put a target on his back when he sat alone in a car with a 15-year-old girl for an hour. I found out about it after the fact. Apparently, he’d been sharing the same end-times general shtick with her—and no doubt grooming her.

I pressed the issue with our host family, who by this point had their own concerns. Jody, the wife, was skilled at getting people to open up and wasn’t afraid of conflict. She got Mike to admit that he was living with his girlfriend. He claimed they weren’t having sex. I told him, “If I lived with my girlfriend, we’d definitely be having sex.” As I recall, Jody took a better tack and reminded him that “there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality” among Christians (Eph. 5:3).

Mike didn’t take it well. He called us a bunch of legalists and stormed off, never to be seen again.

So that’s the story of Mike the Prophet. I share it because I still encounter guys like him all the time. The internet has made their proliferation even easier. They are legion, and they come in both reformed and non-reformed iterations. Regardless of their theological packaging, they share some common traits:

• They flatter people into their favor by claiming you and they are somehow special.

• They poison impressionable people against leaders who are unimpressed with their shtick.

• They offer “new insights” that usually come directly from God or some dubious source.

• They are self-appointed, self-educated, and proud of being unread.

• They have a checkered church attendance history and despise formal accountability.

• They often have a major moral failing that has been left unchecked for years.

Mike the Prophets don’t need neighborhood Bible studies anymore. Social media and YouTube channels get the job done just fine.

Beware of vagabond ministers and self-styled prophets.