By Saroj Parbhoo.
This past weekend, the House of Ariel Gate hosted its Pentecost Conference on 31 May and 1 June—and what a divine appointment it was. A holy convocation, a gathering of saints, a solemn yet fiery feast. Apostle Natasha Grbich delivered a weighty, burning word across every session—words that pierced, purified, and aligned us afresh with the heart of God. It was not just a conference. It was a visitation. The anointing filled the House, so tangible that it was impossible not to weep, not to tremble, not to respond. We were not merely taught—we were transformed.
Session 1 opened with the mystery of sevens—seven Feasts, seven flames on the Menorah, seven weeks from Passover to Pentecost. When you meet with God, He lights a candle in your spirit. But if you never count the days with intention, if you never show up to see His face, you’re not switched on. The number seven is more than biblical—it’s covenantal.. Seven weeks of seven days points to perfection, to vows, to commitment. If you have never made a vow, you are not in covenant. Counting the Omer is more than a Jewish custom—it’s about transformation. You begin as raw grain, but by Shavuot, you become baked bread. And what is bread in the Kingdom? It is warfare. Joshua and Caleb looked at the giants in the land and declared, “They are our bread.” Bread is fuel for battle. Jesus, born in Bethlehem—the House of Bread—came into the world not to rest, but to conquer. So did we. Pentecost isn’t the end of a feast—it is the commissioning of a warrior.
In Session 2, we were reminded that everything in the Kingdom has a protocol. You don’t just stumble into destiny—you prepare for it. Preparation is honour, and God honours it by increasing your capacity to hold Him. There’s always a protocol before a face-to-face encounter. Like priests in the Old Covenant, we must be willing to slay every tribe within us that does not belong to the Levitical line. The flesh cannot wear white robes. The unclean cannot minister in the inner court, but here’s the mercy: even if you were a leper, Jesus still makes a way. In His Kingdom, garments change. Sinners become priests. Lepers become brides. It is a holy proposal—a marriage invitation from the King, but sin disfigures our identity and corrupts our union. Righteousness alone makes the Bride ready.
In Session 3, Apostle Natasha unveiled the mystery of the Bride and her true position. God saw Israel as His Bride even as she was coming out of Egypt. The Bride is not a New Testament idea—it’s been the Father’s intention from the beginning. Marriage is not a metaphor; it is a strategy. When you marry a powerful spouse, you receive access, authority, and resources. That’s what we’ve been offered in covenant with the Son. When Joshua commanded the sun to stand still, the heavenly bodies obeyed—not just because he was a servant of God, but because he stood in the authority of the Bride. Creation recognises the Bride. However, a counterfeit exists—a false queen of heaven that wants to take the Bride’s place. Why? Because the real Bride has not yet risen in her full authority. The call was clear: Will the true Bride of Christ please rise up and take her rightful position?
Session 4 called us back to garments, generations, and God’s appointed times. If we do not honour what God has done in the past, we cannot receive the full weight of it now. Three major appointments are etched into eternity: Passover (deliverance), Pentecost (covenant), and Tabernacles (dwelling). Each encounter comes with glory, and each requires honour. In ministry, you either wear the anointed garment or you don’t, and you can’t fake what you haven’t paid for. God doesn’t clothe the careless, only those who are ready are robed in power.
In Session 5, we entered the thundering realm of Zion. “Out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.” Zion is not just poetry—it is the government of God. It’s the place where God is seated with Jesus at His right hand, where justice and mercy kiss, and heavenly legislation is passed but not everyone has paid the price to get there. Zion is for those who endure. Apostle Natasha drew the stark contrast between contracts and covenants. Contracts manage transactions. Covenants transform people. Contracts are time-bound. Covenants are eternal. Contracts are for lawyers. Covenants are for lovers. If we are truly covenant people, then our faith cannot be casual. It must be costly, weighty, enduring.
Then came Session 6—the crescendo of it all. A call to maturity. A sobering, holy echo from the heart of the Bridegroom: “I am not returning for a child bride.” He is coming for a woman—mature, seasoned, and ready to reign. The Bride will rule with Him, but only if she has walked where He walked, carried her cross, and said yes to the cost. The mature Bride lays down her life, follows the Lamb wherever He goes and returns with the harvest of nations. At the moment of the marriage, creation will reset. The new heavens and new earth will come. Everything starts over—because the union of Christ and His Bride is the restoration of all things.
It wasn’t only the sessions that made this weekend memorable. During the breaks, we laughed, we shared meals, we wept in conversation. Ariel Gate is not just a House of Fire—it is a House of Family. Plates of food became communion tables. Laughter mingled with revelation. People sat together and shared the mysteries burning in their hearts. These moments are not separate from the anointing—they are a part of it. Where two or more are gathered in His name, there He is… even at the coffee station.
Ariel Gate is like no other place on earth. It’s a place of hugs and holiness, of laughter and lament, of mystery and clarity. Whether you are there for the first time or the fiftieth, it always feels like coming home. But leaving? Leaving is hard. When the final amen echoes and you walk back to your car, there is an ache. It’s not emotionalism—it’s homesickness. Your soul knows it’s touched something eternal. And the absence of that Presence feels like loss. Like something precious was left behind. And in truth, it was—because you touched the edge of His robe. You stood in the courts of the King. The ache is holy. It’s your soul crying out, “Don’t let me live without this.” And the glorious truth of Pentecost is this: you don’t have to. You are a carrier of His Presence. You are the temple. What was poured out in the sanctuary must now be carried in your spirit. He doesn’t visit—He dwells. We are His flaming torches.
To our beloved Apostle Natasha Grbich—we love and honour you deeply. Thank you for standing in the counsel of the Lord, for paying the high price to carry the weight of His Word, and for releasing it with such authority and grace. Your obedience, insight, and uncompromising love for truth continues to shape and sharpen us. We honour what you carry. We are truly privileged to have access to the deep well of your revelation and witness your fearless love that pulls us out of complacency into Kingdom destiny. Thank you for making room for us all in the House. For building not just a ministry, but an altar. For gathering us under your covering, not as spectators, but as sons and daughters learning to govern with God.
To the beloved Ariel Gate family—thank you for your excellence, your sacrifice, your heart for holiness, and your love for the nations. You don’t just host conferences—you host the King. This Pentecost, we did not attend a service. We ascended a mountain. And even now, as the fire still burns in our hearts, we eagerly await the next gathering.
May we carry the flame of Pentecost into every room, every nation, every moment.
Until we gather again, may His presence go with us and never leave us.
