Your Prodigal Is Coming Home: A Prophetic Word for Families

Around the same time that the man in our church service was supernaturally touched—after Jessi boldly prophesied:

“You will live and not die, and declare the works of the Lord” other signs for good began to appear.

The atmosphere was shifting. Heaven was moving. God was signaling that revival was coming—and it wasn’t just for the church folks. It was for the lost. It was for the broken. It was for the prodigals.

One of those signs came while my dear friend Pastor Joel DiAngie and I were together. Joel and I attended Oral Roberts University together in the early 2000s. We were both evangelism majors and have always seen eye to eye. Joel is one of the sharpest minds I know—a brilliant theologian, a passionate preacher, and a teacher of the Word with almost a photographic memory. I felt a prompting from the Lord to invite Joel and his wife, Colette, to Amarillo, Texas, to see if they were called to help us build there. We ministered together, played a couple of rounds of golf, and had several deep conversations about partnering in ministry.

One afternoon, we were in my office discussing the future when there was a knock at the door. A lady from our team came in and said, “Pastor, I hate to interrupt, but there are only women in the office right now. There’s a man out front. He seems dis-turbed—maybe drugged—and we’re not sure if he’s dangerous. Could you help?” I stepped outside and saw a man lying face down, hands stretched across the threshold of the church doors. He was trembling, weeping, visibly broken. I could tell he had likely been using drugs—meth, crack, or something like it. I knelt down and asked, “Sir, what’s going on? Can I help you?”

He lifted his tear-streaked face and asked, “Are you the pastor here now?”

I said, “Yes, sir, I am. My name is Brian.” He said, “My mama used to bring me to this church when I was a boy. Last night, I was across town, high, lost, and desperate. But some-thing told me if I could just get back to this building, maybe I could find God again.” I felt fire surge through my spirit. This was a sign for good. This was a prophetic moment. God was drawing the prodigals home. And not just in theory—not just in our prayers—but right there at the threshold of the church, on his knees, in desperation. If you’re reading this and believing for a prodigal—whether it’s your son, your daughter, your spouse, or your grandchild—I declare: The Spirit of God is drawing them home.

Like the prodigal son who was seduced by the glitter of the world, he took his father’s inheritance and chased the party life, only to find himself empty, broken, busted, and disgusted. After tasting everything the world promised, he discovered it all left him starving. So desperate, he longed to eat the food meant for swine. Then something shifted — he came to himself. That moment of awakening changed everything. When he came to his senses, he said, “I will arise and go to my father’s house.”

I declare the same over your family today: your prodigal is coming to their senses. Your son is arising. Your daughter is turning around. There is a divine season when God draws wanderers home. All across this nation, prodigals are going to feel the tug of the Father’s love and find their seat again at the table. The Father isn’t angry — He’s watching the road. And revival looks like sons and daughters coming home.

Declare their names right now in faith: “Susan, come home. Rachel, come home. Michael, come home. Jennifer, come home. David, come home. In Jesus’ name, come home!”

This young man was just the beginning. Pastor Joel and I ministered to him, prayed with him, led him in repentance, gave him water, and broke the spirit that had been binding him. He gave us the address of some family members, so we gave him a ride home and invited him back to church. That was just one sign—but it wasn’t the only one. One Sunday night, not long after, I was ministering at our Amarillo campus. The power of God was moving heavily in the room. We were praying, prophesying, and laying hands on people. As I stepped up to preach, the Spirit of prophecy came upon me so strongly that I couldn’t immediately begin the message and had to declare something.

I looked directly into the camera and said, “Julie, Julie, Julie, come home. Come home, Julie. Come home. I declare you’re coming home. Julie, come home. God loves you. Come home, child. Come home, child. Come home.” I must’ve said her name a dozen times. I declared God’s love, His mercy, and His call. Now, when you’re prophesying into a camera, you don’t always see results immediately. You wonder, Am I hitting the mark, or am I prophesying to the wind? Every prophetic person has had that moment of questioning. But we prophesy in proportion to our faith (Romans 12:6). We say what we hear. We speak what we see—even when we don’t yet see it manifested.

Think about the prophets of old. Isaiah wrote lengthy prophecies to nations that may have never even heard them audibly—but heaven heard them. The spirit realm heard them. And I believe even hell heard them. We declare what God gives us to declare—and those prophetic words do not return void. They go forth and accomplish what He pleases (Isaiah 55:11).

The next morning, during our 7 a.m. prayer meeting, some people from the church approached me and said, “Pastor, we want to introduce you to someone.” They brought me to a young woman. It was Julie. She had come to the prayer meeting to give her life to Jesus. The night before, while I was preaching and declaring her name through the camera, she was at a neighbor’s house, neighbors who are members of our church. They had planned to come in person that night, but something came up, so they stayed home and watched online.

As Julie walked into their living room, the moment she stepped in, she heard her name being declared through the screen: “Julie, Julie, Julie, come home. Come home, child. God is calling you home.” She was stunned. She looked at her friend and said, “Who is that?” Her friend replied, “That’s my pastor. And that’s the Spirit of God speaking to you.”

Julie broke. She came the next morning, gave her heart to Jesus, and was later water baptized. That’s the power of prophetic ministry. That’s the Spirit of God calling the prodigals home. So I say it again to every “Julie” out there, and to every parent or grandparent reading this, that your child is not too far. God knows their name. He knows where they are. And He is calling them home.

“[God is] not willing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9 NKJV). And when God sends revival, He sends it not only for the saints but also to bring the sinners to salvation. There can be no true revival without supernatural salvation.

Jesus told three parables in Luke 15:

• The shepherd who left the 99 to find the one lost sheep.

• The woman who lit a lamp and searched for the lost coin.

• The father who ran to welcome home the prodigal son.

God is wild about lost things.

And prophetic revelation is a divine lamp being lit to help find what’s missing in your life (Luke 15:8). It helps us discern when to speak, when to listen, how to reach a wandering heart, and when to simply declare the name of the one being drawn by the Spirit. Sometimes life brutalizes people. Sin warps their identity. But the Father sees their value. That lost son is still a son. That lost daughter is still a daughter. Even diamonds can get buried. But God is the God of the Lost and Found—and He’s sending His Spirit to recover everything that’s been left behind.

So once again, with boldness, I declare: Every prodigal is coming home. In Jesus’ name—child, come.