The Calling No One Would Choose: Surviving God’s Tornado
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Editor’s Note: This journal entry contains intense descriptions of spiritual transformation as experienced by the author during her prophetic awakening. It reflects her honest processing of the mantle she carries. Readers are encouraged to seek God for discernment and hold these reflections before Him with prayer and openness.
I still don’t know how I’m standing.
I look back over this past year and I have one thought:
I would never have chosen this.
Not in a thousand lifetimes.
People like to romanticise prophetic callings.
They imagine some gentle spiritual upgrade, a peaceful “season,” a quiet whisper from God leading you into something lovely.
What actually happened to me was the spiritual equivalent of being dropped into the centre of a natural disaster with no warning, no training, and no exit route.
If I had known what was coming, I would have run.
If someone had approached me with a job description:
“Hi Victoria, the Lord is preparing you for the office of prophet. The process will involve emotional dismemberment, spiritual exposure, psychological warfare, isolation, blood-level breaking, and a complete destruction of your former identity. Interested?”
I would have said,
“Absolutely not. Shut the door. Wrong house.”
And yet, somehow, here I am.
Because this is not the kind of calling you sign up for.
This is the kind that drafts you, whether you are ready or not.
And the only reason I made it out alive is because God decided I would.
Let me tell the truth exactly as it is.
The storm
It felt like living through every natural disaster at once.
An earthquake that cracked open every hidden wound.
A tornado that picked up the pieces of my life and spun them so violently I could not tell up from down.
A hurricane that tore every structure off its foundations.
A wildfire that burned through every false identity until there was nothing left but the truth.
And somewhere inside it, somewhere in the eye of the storm, I was hanging on by my fingernails.
Not bravely.
Not gracefully.
Not poetically.
Just clinging.
Surviving.
Breathing.
Barely.
That is the part no one talks about.
It is not glamorous.
It is not pretty.
It is not peaceful.
It is searing, surgical, soul-deep upheaval that leaves you blinking at the ashes of your old life wondering what on earth just happened.
People say, “Oh, the refiner’s fire,” as though it is some cute metaphor.
Try being set on actual fire, spiritually, emotionally, psychologically, every lie burned out, every hiding place gone, and then tell me how poetic it feels.
No one would choose this
No one would choose this. No one.
Let me make this plain.
Only a person who has never lived through the real thing would ever claim they “want” to be a prophet.
Anyone self-appointing themselves for this calling is either deceived or delusional.
Because here is the truth.
It is a violent mercy.
A holy devastation.
A tearing and rebuilding you do not control.
You do not stroll into it.
You get dragged into it by the Spirit of God Himself.
You do not get a say.
You do not get a vote.
You do not get an escape hatch.
You obey, or you are crushed under the weight of resisting Him.
That is the reality.
On the other side
And yet, emerging on the other side, you feel invincible.
Not because you are strong.
Not because you are fearless.
Not because you are impressive.
But because you survived what should have killed you.
Only God could have carried you through it.
Only God could have preserved your mind.
Only God could have held your spirit when everything else fell apart.
That is what creates the paradox.
You walk like a battle-hardened warrior,
and yet kneel like a lamb before the One who chose you.
The mantle is heavy.
But the humility is heavier.
Because once you have seen God in the fire,
once you have felt His hand on your spine in the storm,
you do not argue with Him anymore.
You do not negotiate.
You do not resist.
You do not pretend you are in control.
You know very clearly.
You belong to Him.
And when He speaks, your only answer is yes.
What this calling really did
This calling did not make me powerful.
It made me obedient.
It tore out everything in me that wanted comfort, reputation, acceptance, normality.
It stripped me of the life I built.
The identity I fought for.
The illusions I carried.
The family ties that were not meant to last.
The relationships that could not withstand the weight.
It left me with one unshakeable truth.
God chose me.
And I do not get to say no.
Not after what He has shown me.
Not after the storm He walked me through.
Not after the fire that did not consume me.
This is the strange thing about a true prophetic calling.
It feels like a curse while you are in it,
but like a crown of fire once you survive it.
Not a crown of glory.
Not a crown of status.
A crown of responsibility.
Of weight.
Of purpose.
Of assignment.
A crown placed on a woman God tore down and rebuilt in the hidden place.
Standing in the aftermath
This is not a testimony of strength.
This is a testimony of survival.
If I am standing today, it is for one reason only.
God decided I would live through His storm.
And that changes everything.
No one gets up from the grave the same.
No one walks out of a spiritual hurricane the same.
No one survives the furnace and keeps pretending to be ordinary.
This calling was forged in disaster, but it stands in authority.
And if I have learned anything, it is this.
God does not choose the qualified.
He chooses the willing, and then He remakes them in the fire.
I did not choose this path.
But now that I know who walked with me through the storm,
I will follow Him wherever He leads.
Because after what He has brought me through,
I know He is real.
I know He is sovereign.
I know He has claimed my life for His purposes.
And when the Lord claims you,
you are His.
Completely.
Irrevocably.
Forever.
“Is not my word like fire,” declares the Lord, “and like a hammer that breaks the rock in pieces?” — Jeremiah 23:29
With fire and grace,
This message carries fire. Pass it on. 👇🏻
Victoria Player is the founder of Daughter of Thunder, a movement awakening spiritually sensitive women to truth, purpose, and divine power in a world that’s lost its compass. After walking through her own season of fire and rebuilding, she now writes and speaks to those who sense there’s more — guiding them from confusion to clarity, from awakening to assignment.
“I don’t bow to Babylon — I walk with the Lion.” — Daughter of Thunder
