The Morning God Called Me a Builder: A Prophetic Journal Entry
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Editor’s Note: This journal entry reflects the author’s personal experience of receiving a specific identity word during prayer. It is shared as a window into her prophetic journey and should be read with discernment, prayer, and alignment with scripture.
A journal entry from the edge of a new chapter
I didn’t wake up looking for a word.
I didn’t wake up trying to discern the season.
I simply opened my eyes, reached for my Bible, whispered a small prayer, and let the silence settle around me.
Then, out of nowhere, a single word dropped into my spirit like a stone thrown into still water.
Builder.
Not a thought.
Not an idea.
A word.
Clean. Sudden. Heavy.
And the minute it landed, it changed the atmosphere inside me.
Because I knew instantly this wasn’t imagination.
This wasn’t my mind wandering.
This wasn’t my brain recycling something I had read online.
I hadn’t been thinking about builders.
I hadn’t seen anything about builders.
I hadn’t been reading anything about builders.
Yet there it was, sitting in my spirit with the weight of revelation.
Builder.
And I felt it.
That warm ignition deep in the gut, the same place He speaks when He wants to bypass the intellect and brand something straight onto the soul.
It was Him.
The same voice that woke me at 4 a.m.
The same voice that filled my living room with revelation when my life had cracked open.
The same voice that answered prayers in real time with scripture that mirrored my own words back to me like a conversation.
He spoke again.
And this time, He called me a builder.
Not a dreamer.
Not a visionary.
Not a survivor.
Not a prophet, even though that is true.
A builder.
Suddenly everything made sense.
Because what else has He been doing with me all these months?
He demolished me.
He stripped me bare.
He reduced me to foundation.
He excavated wounds I didn’t know existed.
He cleared out rubble I had lived under for decades.
He tore down everything that could not carry weight into the next season.
Of course the next phase would be building.
You do not take someone through demolition to leave them standing in ruins.
You clear the ground so they can raise something new.
This morning I realised something.
I am no longer being undone.
I am being constructed.
Not gently.
Not politely.
Not in the way the church imagines spiritual growth with soft worship songs and tidy sermons.
No.
This is the kind of building that happens after war.
After shaking.
After the storm.
After the foundations have been tested and found unshakeable.
This is Nehemiah with a sword in one hand and a brick in the other.
This is Ezekiel calling dry bones into structure.
This is Jesus forming an ecclesia that can survive the collapse of empires.
This morning, He told me my role.
Builder.
Builder of people.
Builder of atmospheres.
Builder of spiritual communities that do not bow to Babylon.
Builder of the Upper Room.
Builder of the new wineskin.
Builder of spaces where the misfits finally find home.
Builder of movements that carry both joy and fire, House of Player and Daughter of Thunder, two wings of the same eagle.
He has not asked me to maintain anything.
He has not asked me to imitate anything.
He certainly has not asked me to return to anything.
He has asked me to build.
And the strangest part is this.
The word came without fear.
Without striving.
Without hesitation.
It felt as though He was naming something that had been true all along.
I didn’t choose to be demolished.
I didn’t choose to be awakened.
I didn’t choose to be stripped to bone and breath.
But I also didn’t choose the part of me that rises when He speaks.
The part that lifts its head in the dust and says:
“Alright, Lord. If You are calling me a builder,
show me what You want me to build.”
And in that moment, everything inside me rearranged.
This was not a suggestion.
This was identity.
A mantle.
A marking.
The morning God called me a builder was the morning I realised something.
The breaking is over.
The blueprint is coming.
And the work begins now.
“Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labour in vain.” ~ Psalm 127:1
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
