“REACH - The Apostolic Advance” an eBook by Dr. David A. Bessey CHAPTER ONE — THE POTTER AND THE PATHFINDER

There are certain moments in our life when God presses His hands so deeply into the clay of a man that he can never return to who he was before. I have lived long enough and have been broken enough times, to understand that Yahweh did not merely form me in my mother’s womb — as Psalm 139 says, shaping my frame in secret, knitting me together in the hidden place, but that He has also continued forming me each and every day since. It is one thing to believe you are fearfully and wonderfully made. It is another to feel the Potter’s thumbs pressing into your soul, reshaping you in ways you did not expect, and certainly did not choose. There is a tenderness in His forming, yes, but there is also a breaking, a crushing, a kneading, a collapsing, and finally a reworking of the vessel, when the first form can not carry the weight of the assignment.

Years ago, I learned this not as a preacher or a student of Scripture, but as a man desperate for answers. I dove into the history of pottery, first out of curiosity, then out of conviction, and finally out of revelation. What I discovered humbled me to the core. Clay is not gently coaxed into beauty. It is dug violently from the earth and river bed, full of stones and impurities, strained and crushed in the potter’s hands, it is kneaded again and again until every hard fragment yields to the pressure. The Potter never asks the clay for permission. The clay has only one task — to remain surrendered in the hands that know its destiny.

Isaiah 64:8 WEBUS

“But now, Yahweh, you are our Father. We are the clay, and you our potter; we are all the work of your hand.”

There were seasons when I thought the worst had passed, only to be slapped and pressed again on the wheel. And just when I believed my shape had settled, I was placed on the shelf to dry, waiting for whatever came next. Then the searing heat of the furnace would roar, and I would feel the heat of trials designed not to destroy me, but to strengthen me.

The Potter does not place a vessel in the fire to hurt it. He does it to give the vessel strength. Without the fire, the clay remains fragile. Without trials, faith remains hollow. Without brokenness, character remains shallow. The furnace is where vessels of honor are born, where temporary shapes are transformed into lasting structures.

My life has followed that pattern: the digging, the crushing, the reshaping, the wheel turning dizzying faster than I could understand, then the drying seasons that felt like abandonment, and the fires that burned hotter than my strength could bear. Yet here I stand, not because I endured well, but because the Potter never removed His hands.

People see the vessel that exists today, but they do not see the discarded shapes I once was, the clay He collapsed, the dust He rehydrated, the parts of me He ground down into powder before molding me again. They do not see the many times Yahweh placed me back on the wheel to rebuild what pain had cracked or pride had warped. They do not see the seasons when I cried out, tears flowing, face on the floor, asking why the shaping required such fire.

If I were to reduce my life to a single sentence, it would be this:

I am a scientist who became a warrior who became an apostle. What’s next Lord?

My training began long before I understood my calling. As a young man, I learned how to observe, how to read patterns in the atmosphere, how to track storms and understand systems. I was a weatherman with an M4 in my one hand and Wind Meter in the other. I was a warrior who used science to read the invisible world before it manifested. That combination, at the time, felt strange: the quiet precision of atmospheric analysis paired with the gritty discipline of combat training. But now I see it clearly. Scientists learn to see what others overlook. Warriors learn to endure what others collapse under. Apostles must do both.

Pathfinder apostles, are especially wired this way. We are the ones who find ourselves at the edges, charting courses no one has walked before, stepping into terrain without maps, listening for the whisper that tells us when to move and when to stand. We are people who understand storms, who understand battles, who understand order and obedience and cost. We do not choose the path less traveled, the path chooses us. This is like the spirit behind Rick Pino’s song “Pioneer,” where the voice of God calls His chosen ones into unfamiliar places for the sake of those who will come after.

But before any apostle can pioneer, he must become a “gatekeeper”. In Psalm 24 David outlines more then merely a psalm; it is the protocol of a gatekeeper standing at the threshold of God’s presence. David understood this better than anyone. He was more than a king, more than a psalmist, more than a warrior with a harp and a sling. He was a gatekeeper who knew who may ascend the hill of Yahweh and who may stand in His holy place. When he declared, “Lift up your heads, you gates; and be lifted up, you everlasting doors; and the King of glory will come in”, he was not reciting poetry. He was executing spiritual authority, the authority to open gates for the King of Glory, the authority to recognize His arrival, the authority to command creation to make way for Yahweh, strong and mighty.

Yahweh mighty in battle.

Gatekeepers open the way for the King. Watchmen see the King’s approach. Together, apostles and prophets form the foundation of the house God is building. Paul wrote that the household of God is “built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the chief cornerstone,” and that in Him, “the whole building, fitted together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord” — a habitation of God in the Spirit (Ephesians 2:19–22). Gatekeepers guard the threshold; watchmen guard the horizon; Christ holds the structure together; and the Spirit fills the house with life.

But there is a reality we cannot ignore. Most apostles today end up carrying both mantles — gatekeeper and watchman — not because it is ideal, but because prophets often wander. Prophetic gifting can be sharp, holy, powerful, and accurate, but without submission, it becomes unstable. The New Testament warns us about this through the examples of Balaam and Korah — two gifted men who refused alignment, two prophetic voices who abandoned order. Peter and Jude speak of “the way of Balaam” and “the rebellion of Korah” as warnings to the Church. Balaam had real revelation, yet he loved the wages of unrighteousness, and used his prophetic insight to lead God’s people astray. Korah had calling and position, yet he rejected divine structure, rebelling against the leadership God established through Moses. These warnings are not ancient stories. They are present realities.

A prophet without submission becomes unmoored, drifting into imagination instead of revelation, independence instead of alignment, rebellion instead of obedience. And when prophets step out of order, apostles must step into the gap. They must safeguard the flock. They must protect the foundation. They must confront deception, clarify truth, and reestablish order, even when it costs them relationships, comfort, or reputation. Apostles are not trying to control prophets. Apostles are trying to protect the house. A foundation cannot be built on voices that wander. True prophecy strengthens, encourages, and comforts, yes, but it also submits, aligns, and builds.

The Potter shaped me for this burden. The warrior trained me for this battle. The scientist taught me how to read the invisible. The pathfinder taught me how to walk alone. The gatekeeper taught me how to open the way. And Christ, the Chief Cornerstone “taught” me how to build.

This is the beginning of the journey. This is the formation of a man who has been crushed and remade more times than I can count. This is the story of clay in the Potter’s hands, of storms read and survived, of gates opened for the King of Glory, of alignment restored, of foundations laid, of a house built not by human ambition, but by divine design. This is not a book about leadership principles or inspirational anecdotes. This is a book about becoming the vessel God intended. A book of becoming the warrior He needs and becoming the apostolic builder He sends. He sends gatekeepers who knows how to open the doors for the King of kings and Lord of lords. What about you are you willing to be sent?

Isaiah‬ ‭6‬:‭5‬-‭9‬ ‭WEBUS‬‬

“…Then I said, “Woe is me! For I am undone, because I am a man of unclean lips and I live among a people of unclean lips, for my eyes have seen the King, Yahweh of Armies!” Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with the tongs from off the altar. He touched my mouth with it, and said, “Behold, this has touched your lips; and your iniquity is taken away, and your sin forgiven.” I heard the Lord’s voice, saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” Then I said, “Here, I AM, Send me!” He said, “Go, and tell this people, ‘You hear indeed, but don’t understand. You see indeed, but don’t perceive…’”

Next: CHAPTER TWO

THE CALLING OF THE GATEKEEPERS