Category Archives: Visions

Faith & Sacrifice, Visions

A Pain Felt in Heaven

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When Jesus cried out, “It is finished,” He did not speak as a defeated man, but as the victorious Son of God. With that cry, the heavens shook and the earth trembled. The curtain in the temple was torn from top to bottom. The work of redemption was complete. But have you ever considered what it meant—not just for Jesus—but for the heart of the Father?

“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish, but have eternal life” (John 3:16, NASB). We quote this verse often, and rightly so. But we must pause and feel the weight of what it says: God gave His Son. He didn’t loan Him. He didn’t shield Him from suffering. He gave Him, fully, painfully, and completely.

This was no ordinary giving. This was the giving of the most precious, most holy, most beloved relationship in all eternity. The Father gave the Son, and the Spirit empowered the Son, that we might live. There was no division within the Trinity, no conflict of will. The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit were in perfect unity—a divine agreement made before the foundation of the world (1 Peter 1:19–20). Yet still, when Jesus hung upon that cross, the pain pierced more than flesh—it pierced the very heart of heaven.

Let’s not imagine the cross as a scene where Jesus suffers alone while the Father remains unmoved. That’s not the God of Scripture. God is love (1 John 4:8). And love suffers. “He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him over for us all…” (Romans 8:32, NASB). What kind of love is this, that the Father would give what was most dear to Him, knowing full well the price?

When Yeshua bore the full weight of our sin, something unfathomable occurred. “God made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him” (2 Corinthians 5:21, NASB). That transaction required justice. And for a moment—just a moment—the Father turned His face away. Not in abandonment, but in holiness. Not in rejection, but in judgment. And in that moment, the cry of Jesus pierced the heavens: “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Matthew 27:46, NASB).

It’s not wrong to say that heaven felt that pain. God is not indifferent. He is not a cold judge. He is our Abba Father—tender, merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love (Psalm 103:8). When the spear was thrust into the side of the Son, the Father knew. When the thorns pierced His brow, the Father wept. This wasn’t just a human tragedy; it was a divine agony.

But it was also a divine triumph.

“It is finished” (John 19:30). That declaration meant more than the end of pain—it meant the beginning of grace. The wrath of God was satisfied. The debt of sin was paid in full. The way back to the Father was opened. Heaven did not just feel the pain—it rejoiced in the victory. And all of it—every step—was born out of love.

So now, beloved reader, you must ask yourself: What will you do with this love?

You were bought with a price (1 Corinthians 6:20). Not with silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish (1 Peter 1:18–19). You are not your own. If the Father gave His Son for you, how can you live casually toward Him? If the Spirit groans for you, interceding with groanings too deep for words (Romans 8:26), how can you neglect so great a salvation?

You must not stand aloof from the cross. You must come near. Let it break your heart. Let it cleanse your sin. Let it reorient your entire life. Heaven felt the pain that redeemed you.Will you now live as though it costs you nothing?

Paul writes, “I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20, NASB). That’s the response of a heart that has seen the cross. Not religion. Not routine. Not a Sunday-only faith. But a life crucified, a life surrendered, a life aflame with gratitude.

Friend, if you have become numb to the cross, ask God to awaken your heart. Pray that you never grow comfortable with His sacrifice. Ask Him to show you what it meant—for the Son to suffer, for the Spirit to empower Him, for the Father to give Him up. That kind of love is not safe. It demands everything.

And yet, it gives everything.

Because of that pain felt in heaven, you now have peace. Because of the sorrow of the cross, you now have joy. Because of the silence of Saturday, you now have resurrection Sunday.

Do not waste this gift.

Come again to the foot of the cross. Let it wreck your pride. Let it shatter your excuses. And then rise, filled with the Holy Spirit, and live like someone who knows that God Himself bled for your freedom.

A Prayer for Today:

Father, thank You for the love that gave Your Son. Yeshua, thank You for the obedience that led You to the cross. Holy Spirit, thank You for staying with me and showing me the depth of this love. Awaken my heart again. Let me never treat lightly the agony of Calvary. Help me to live sacrificially, joyfully, and boldly in response to Your grace. Let my life reflect the weight of what was done for me. In Yeshua’s holy name, Amen.

Vision

In the stillness of heaven, the Father grieved. Light poured through eternity’s window, but His heart bore the weight of the cross.

In heaven, the atmosphere was weighty—thick with holy sorrow and glory. The golden streets, so often resounding with songs of praise, fell into a stillness that echoed through eternity. The scent of incense, always rising before the throne, was now mingled with something deeper—an aroma of sacrifice, like the offering of Isaac remembered and fulfilled. The air carried the tension of divine justice and eternal love colliding in one sacred moment.

The Father stood robed in radiant light, yet His expression bore the agony of a grieving King. His eyes—all-seeing—beheld His Son stretched on wood, blood mingling with dirt, and heard every cry, every mocking voice, every gasping breath. From His throne, He could feel the vibrations of the Roman hammer striking nails—each blow shaking the pillars of creation. The sounds of the earth—groaning, thundering, cracking—were not missed in heaven. The cry “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” pierced even the silence of eternity.

Around Him, the angelic host did not sing—they wept. Seraphim who had never ceased to cry “Holy” now covered their faces. The light of heaven shimmered with reverence and pain, like a storm forming just beneath the surface of peace. Thunder rumbled in the spirit realm. Flashes of glory stirred, restrained only by the will of the Father. All power stood clothed in stillness. The Son, robed in humility, did not summon the hosts of heaven though they waited—ten thousand times ten thousand, swords drawn in perfect obedience. The earth shook not from their advance, but from the trembling surrender of Love. Yeshua held back the storm, not for lack of strength, but for the joy set before Him.

All might, all angelic legions stood ready—yet none moved. Not a seraph’s wing stirred, not a cherub dared breathe without His command. He could have called them. But He chose the cross. Not because He was overpowered, but because He came to overpower death with mercy. This was the Lamb’s hour. This was the Father’s plan.

And still, the Father breathed in the moment, tasting the bitterness of wrath He would not withhold. His hands, sovereign and eternal, did not tremble—but His heart did feel. He knew the end from the beginning, but this was the cost. He felt the tear in the Son’s flesh as if it were His own. And He did not stop it. For love. For you.

Even in that pain, a fragrance began to rise—stronger than incense, sweeter than myrrh. The fragrance of redemption.It was the smell of blood that would wash nations, of obedience that would open graves, of a sacrifice that would welcome prodigals home. The throne shook not in fury, but in fulfillment. And somewhere, just beyond the veil, resurrection waited.

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Visions

المذبح والنار

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اختيار العهد بدلًا من التهاون

رأيت مشهدًا مهيبًا يملأه الرهبة والمجد. السماء اهتزت، والأرض تشققت عطشى، تتوق إلى مطر البرّ. جموع قلقة ملأت السهل تحتي، وقلوبهم منقسمة بين لذات هذا العالم ونداء القدير.

وأنت، أيها القارئ، هل شعرت بالعطش في أعماق روحك؟ هل وقفت بين مذبح الذات ومذبح التسليم؟

في وسط هذا التوتر، ظهر إيليا، مرتديًا لباسًا من شعر خشن وممتلئًا بغيرة متقدة. صوته دوّى كصوت مياه كثيرة:

“إلى متى أنتم مترددون بين رأيين؟ إن كان الرب هو الله، فاتبعوه، وإن كان البعل، فاتبعوه.”

(1 ملوك 18:21، الترجمة الموسعة)

الكلمة العبرية “פָּסַח” (pasach) تخترق النفس. تعني أن تترنح، أن تقفز جيئة وذهابًا بدون التزام. إنها نفس الكلمة التي وردت في سفر الخروج عندما عبر الرب فوق البيوت الملطخة بالدم، فأنقذ شعب العهد. كان من المفترض أن ترقص إسرائيل فرحًا بالعهد، لكنها كانت تتعثر في ترددها وانقسامها. تحدي إيليا كشف ليس فقط أصنامهم، بل ترددهم الداخلي أيضًا.

بدأ أنبياء البعل أولًا. أربعمئة وخمسون رجلاً رقصوا حول مذبحهم وهم يصرخون: “يا بعل، أجبنا!” ولكن عبادتهم تحوّلت إلى هستيريا. جرحوا أجسادهم، واندفعت منهم الدماء، ولكن لم يكن هناك صوت، ولا من يجيب. البعل طلب ألمًا، لكنه لم يُرسل نارًا. السماء بقيت صامتة.

ثم اقترب إيليا وأصلح مذبح الرب المُهدم باستخدام اثني عشر حجرًا—حجرًا لكل سبط من أسباط إسرائيل المرتبطة بالعهد. بلّل الذبيحة والخشب والساحة المحيطة بالماء. ثم صلّى:

“أيها الرب، إله إبراهيم وإسحاق وإسرائيل، ليُعلَم اليوم أنك أنت الله في إسرائيل”

(1 ملوك 18:36، الترجمة الموسعة)

وسقطت النار من السماء.

التهمت الذبيحة.

والحجارة.

والتراب.

والماء.

وسقط الشعب على وجوههم وصرخوا:

“الرب هو الله! الرب هو الله!”

(الآية 39)

لقد شُفي التردد بالنار المقدسة. وعادت رقصة العهد إلى مكانها الصحيح.

نفس الخيار يواجهنا اليوم

مثل إسرائيل القديمة، يتردد جيلنا. نتلاعب مع أصنام العصر—الذات، القوة، اللذة، المال—بينما ندّعي أننا في عهد مع إل شداي. مذبح الإيمان القومي مكسور. والمطر انقطع. ومع ذلك، نتساءل لماذا لا تسقط النار بعد الآن.

إن الرب يسأل من جديد:

إلى متى ستتردد؟

إلى متى ستمسك يدك بالبعل وأخرى في السماء؟

إلى متى ستنتظر نارًا، بينما مذبحك ما زال مهدمًا؟

حقيقة الله ثابتة:

“اختاروا اليوم من تعبدون”

(يشوع 24:15، الترجمة الموسعة)

لا يوجد ملاذ في الحياد. رقصة الفصح تقدم حرية وحياة. أما تردد الأصنام، فيقود إلى عبودية وموت.

تمسك بالإيمان – وابنِ المذبح

كلمة pasach تعود لتواجهنا. هل سنبقى نترنح بين الولاءات؟ أم سندخل بالكامل في عهد الرب؟

إن الإله الذي يجيب بالنار لا يزال يجيب.

لكن فقط عندما يكون المذبح كاملاً.

فقط عندما تكون التقدمة مبللة بالتسليم.

فقط عندما يكون القلب مكشوفًا أمامه.

صلِّ مع داود:

“قلبًا نقيًا اخلق فيّ يا الله، وروحًا مستقيمًا جدد في داخلي.”

(مزمور 51:10، الترجمة الموسعة)

دع التوبة تزيل الأنقاض.

دع الطاعة تضع الحجارة من جديد.

دع الشفاعة تبلل الذبيحة.

وحينها ستسقط النار مرة أخرى.

صلاة من أجل التجديد

يا أبانا،

نعترف بقلوبنا المترددة.

لقد رقصنا مع الأصنام بينما دعوتنا للسير معك.

اغفر ترددنا.

طهر ميولنا.

رمم المذبح المحطم في داخلنا.

أسكب مطر البرّ على أرضنا العطشى.

دع نار روحك تحرق كل عبادة زائفة.

أحيينا في حقك.

واجعلنا، مثل إيليا، نعلن بثقة مقدسة:

الرب هو الله!

نصلي هذا باسم يشوعا، فصحنا المذبوح. آمين.

لا تنتظر النار لتسقط على مذبح غيرك.

ابنِ مذبحك.

اليوم.

في هذه اللحظة.

عد إلى الرقصة. ابنِ المذبح. ودع النار تسقط.

fasting, Holy Spirit, Prayers, Visions

The Day the Fire Fell

A First-Hand Pentecost Vision

I saw it in a vision.

The Lord opened my eyes, and I stood among them, unseen yet present. I could feel the weight of the room—the thick air, the groaning of souls. It was as if I had been carried back through time, placed within the trembling walls of the upper room, where one hundred and twenty waited. Their faces were worn, desperate. Their knees pressed into the cold stone, and the air crackled with a hunger words could not express.

The walls, ancient and heavy with the dust of centuries, seemed to lean in with the prayers. I watched as lips moved without sound, tears ran unashamed, and hands gripped the hem of heaven itself. The Lord had told them: “Stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high” (Luke 24:49, NASB). And so they waited—not with passivity, but with a fervent, breaking cry.

The sun climbed higher, pouring light through small windows, illuminating swirling motes of dust. The scent of sweat and worn garments filled the air. Yet no one moved for food, no one reached for water. Their thirst was for God alone. I watched a woman collapse against the floor, her face pressed into the stone, whispering one word over and over: “Abba.”

It was not a gathering of the strong. It was an altar of the broken.

Believers gathered in deep intercessory prayer, lifting silent groanings before God, surrounded by symbols of His covenant promises.

Time passed. Hours. The desperation deepened until it was almost a sound itself—a low hum of hunger in the spirit. Peter knelt with his face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking. I could hear his low plea, “Lord, we have nothing left but You.”

That’s when it came.

A sound—first distant, like a storm gathering beyond the hills—then rushing inward, swift and mighty. It was not the wind of earth but the breath of heaven (Acts 2:2). The stones underfoot trembled. Garments fluttered as if caught in a gale, though the air was still.

The roar filled every corner.

God in the Fire

And then, fire.

It appeared, bright as the sun, fierce and holy. Tongues of flame, living and alive, danced above each head (Acts 2:3). Yet it did not burn. It filled. I saw it—how it sank into them, how their faces lifted, eyes wide, mouths opening with sounds no man had taught them.

The Spirit Himself had come.

They spoke in languages of men and angels. Words of praise, of glory, of the mighty deeds of God poured from their lips. Some wept, undone. Others lifted their hands, faces shining. Some laughed with a joy deeper than any suffering they had known (Nehemiah 8:10). The fire had not only touched them—it claimed them.

I watched as the Spirit pressed them outward, stumbling into the streets. The city gathered quickly, drawn by the uproar. Men from every nation under heaven stared in wonder as these simple, broken vessels proclaimed the glory of God in languages not their own. Parthians, Medes, Egyptians, Romans—all heard the wonders of God in their own tongue.

And then Peter—bold, blazing—stepped forward. I heard his voice, strong and certain, rise above the clamor:

“Repent, and each of you be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2:38, NASB).

The fire leapt from heart to heart.

Three thousand souls were swept into the kingdom that day.

And still, as I stood there, unseen but seeing, I knew: this was not the end. The fire was not meant for one day, one room. It was a beginning. A first spark of a blaze that would run to the ends of the earth.

I could feel it even as the vision faded—the fire has never gone out. It burns still. And for those who dare to wait, who dare to hunger, the Spirit will fall again.

Prayer:

O Lord God, El Shaddai, let us be among those who hunger for You with all our hearts. Pour out Your Spirit anew, ignite the fire within us. May we lay down every burden, every pride, every sin, until only You remain. Come, Holy Spirit, breathe on us. Let the sound of heaven once again fill our hearts and homes. In the mighty name of Yeshua, we pray. Amen.

⸻

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Visions

The Whisper and the Fire 

I was in the Spirit on the day of despair, and behold—a wilderness wrapped in silence. It was reminiscent of Elijah’s Revelation on Mount Horeb, where the air blistered with heat, and the sky hung heavy, as if mourning. Dust clung to my skin like judgment, and the ground cracked beneath every step. There was no water. No shade. No voice.

Then I saw him—Elijah, the prophet of fire—yet now bent low, trembling beneath a broom tree. His eyes, once full of flame, were now hollow with sorrow. His lips moved, but the words carried the weight of death: “It is enough now, O Lord. Take my life.”

The earth did not open. Thunder did not strike. Instead, bread began to bake on coals, and the scent of fresh fire met my nose—sweet, smoky, and holy. A jar of water glistened in the morning light like dew from heaven. An angel, luminous and stern, stirred the prophet and said, “Arise and eat.”

I watched as Elijah, with shaking hands, tasted the bread of heaven. Strength returned—not the strength of man, but of mission. He walked—forty days into the night of God, each step crunching over dry rock, each breath drawing in the weight of divine silence.

Then I saw the mountain—Horeb, the terror and glory of Sinai. Its cliffs scraped the sky like fingers reaching for judgment. Elijah entered the cave, and I entered with him. The dark swallowed us whole, and the air was thick—thick with the weight of the Almighty.

Suddenly—a wind howled, shrieking down the mountain like ten thousand spirits loosed at once. It tore rocks loose and sent dust slashing at the skin. My ears rang. But God was not in the wind.

Then the earth heaved beneath my feet. Stones cracked and the cave roared like a dying beast. I clung to the wall, heart pounding. But God was not in the earthquake.

Then came fire, licking across the stone in ribbons of gold and red. It roared like a furnace, burned with white heat, and the smell of ash filled the cave. But God was not in the fire.

Then—a sound. No louder than breath. A whisper that wrapped around the soul and pulled it forward. Every nerve stilled. Every sense stretched. I felt it more than heard it. It pierced through flesh and soul and divided spirit and bone.

And Elijah stepped out, wrapped in his mantle, eyes wide. The Voice spoke—not to condemn, but to commission.

“What are you doing here, Elijah?”

Then the LORD thundered in a whisper:

“You are not alone. Seven thousand remain. Go—anoint Hazael king. Anoint Jehu. Call forth Elisha. I am not done. I am not finished. The fire is still falling, and My voice still speaks.”

I looked—and behind the prophet, far off in the veil of glory, a chariot of fire waited, its wheels spinning with the names of the faithful, its horses snorting with the breath of God. It burned, yet did not consume. It stood ready.

And I say to you now, reader of this vision:

You who sit beneath your own broom tree—rise.

Eat. Listen. Go.

The same God who whispered to Elijah is whispering now. Not in the storm of spectacle, but in the secret place. The cave is calling. The commission is upon you.

He who has ears to hear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the weary prophets.

See Also

Hope, Jesus, Visions

COME ALIVE IN HIM AGAIN: DEAD NO MORE

Come alive in Him again. These words are more than a call—they are a command from the voice that once thundered outside Lazarus’ tomb. Jesus Christ, the Resurrection and the Life, still calls the spiritually dead to rise. The story of Lazarus is not just a miracle of the past—it is a living prophecy. What God did in Bethany, He is doing still. What He resurrected then, He is breathing life into now.

“Lazarus, come out!” (John 11:43, NASB). This was no whisper. It was a divine decree that shattered the silence of death. And that same voice now calls to every weary heart, every buried calling, every soul wrapped in grave clothes.

This is your invitation: Come alive in Him again.

You may not lie in a physical tomb, but how many sit in pews while their faith lies cold? How many once burned with holy fire, yet now flicker like a dying wick? How many dreams lie wrapped in linen, sealed behind stone by disappointment, fear, or compromise?

Like the valley of dry bones in Ezekiel 37, some believers look alive but are hollow. God asked the prophet, “Can these bones live?” And the answer came not through man’s power, but through the breath of God. The same breath that hovered over the deep in Genesis 1… the same breath that raised Christ from the grave… the same breath still moves today.

Can you feel it? The stirring?

Jesus Still Raises the Dead

This is not a metaphor. This is truth. In Acts 9, Peter raised Tabitha from death. In 2 Kings 4, Elisha raised the Shunammite’s son. In Luke 7, Jesus touched the funeral bier of a widow’s only son and brought him back. God has always been in the business of raising what others declare finished.

And today, the same power that raised Jesus from the grave dwells in you (Romans 8:11, NASB).

But resurrection is not just about miracles—it’s a call. Return to Me, says the Lord, that you may live (Amos 5:4). Repentance is the first breath of new life. As Jesus said, “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit”(John 12:24, NASB).

Cast Off the Grave Clothes

Even after Lazarus rose, he was still bound. Jesus said, “Unbind him, and let him go” (John 11:44, NASB). Some of us are alive but still wrapped in yesterday’s grief, sin, or shame. Your soul may have heard His call, but your habits haven’t caught up.

It’s time. Time to take off what belongs to the grave. Time to silence the voices that say, “You’ll never change.” Time to rise with Christ and walk as a living testimony that dead things don’t stay dead when Jesus speaks.

You called me from the shadows, Lord,
Where silence was my song.
You shattered tombs with holy words—
I rise where I belong.
No grave can hold the child You love,
No chain can stay Your hand.
I live because You called me forth—
To walk, to breathe, to stand.

Prayer:

Abba, breathe on me again. Where I have allowed my spirit to slumber, awaken me. Let every buried gift and forgotten promise come alive by Your Word. I cast off the grave clothes. I believe in the One who raises the dead. Yeshua, call my name again—I will come forth and live. Amen.

⸻

Aaron’s staff blossomed overnight—proof that God brings life where none should exist. His resurrection power still speaks today.

And I looked, and behold—a great valley full of tombs. Some were sealed in stone, others open and hollow, and still others freshly carved but unoccupied. And over the valley hung a stillness like the hush before a storm, and the air was thick with what had once been prayers now forgotten.

And I saw a Man, clothed in light, walking through the valley. His eyes were like fire, and on His sash was written, “I AM the Resurrection and the Life.” Wherever He stepped, the ground pulsed with life. And with a voice like many waters, He called out, saying:

“Come forth.”

Then I saw the tombs tremble, one by one. Bones rattled, hearts quickened, and the breath of God surged through what had lain cold and silent. The dead rose—not just the lifeless, but those who had once walked and sung and served and preached, yet had fallen asleep in spirit.

I saw a woman rise, weeping, her hands still stained from her past, but her eyes beholding glory. I saw a man who had buried his calling stand upright, the scroll of his assignment unrolling in his hands once again. Children whose voices had been silenced by fear now shouted praise.

Then a great voice from heaven cried:

“Loose them and let them go! For what I have called alive, let no man bind again.”

And I saw angels descend with garments of white and oil of joy, clothing the risen ones with strength. They placed harps in their hands and fire on their lips. And I beheld a multitude, once dead in spirit, now burning like stars in the expanse of heaven—each one marked by the Voice that called them forth.

And I fell on my face, trembling. For He who speaks to tombs speaks also to hearts. And I heard Him say:

“Tell them: The time of sleeping is over. The time of hiding is past. I am calling my people to rise. Come alive in me again.”

And I knew it was true, for his voice awakened even me.

⸻

See Also

Repentance, The Pursuit, Visions

The Sword of Revival

In the heavens, I saw the throne of God surrounded by a great cloud of incense, rising like a sweet fragrance. It was the prayers of the humble—those who wept in secret, those who cried out for mercy, and those who longed for the presence of the Lord with all their hearts. Their prayers carried the essence of brokenness, repentance, and surrender, and they ascended together, joined as one voice, to the One who hears the cries of His people.

Then I saw the Lord reach down with His hand and gather the incense. It glowed like molten gold, alive with power and holiness. With His divine authority, He forged it into a sword, brilliant and blazing with fire. Its edge gleamed with the truth of His Word, and its hilt was engraved with the prayers of His saints, woven together in unity. The sword pulsed with a living light, and as it was completed, the Spirit of the Lord spoke:

“This is the Sword of Revival. It is forged from the prayers of the repentant, sanctified by My holiness, and empowered by My Spirit. It shall go forth to shatter the chains of darkness, break the strongholds of sin, and pierce the hearts of the lost. Only the humble and united shall wield it, for My glory rests upon those who are one as I am one with the Father.” The Sword of Revival is a testament to the power of unified prayer.

The Lord extended the sword to the remnant—those who had laid down their pride, turned from their sin, and sought Him with all their hearts. I saw them not as scattered individuals, but as a body, joined together in love and purpose. They took the sword with trembling hands, their voices lifted as one, crying, “Come, Lord Jesus! Reign in us and through us!” A voice like rushing waters called out, “Go now, for the hour of revival is at hand. Lift up the sword, proclaim My Word, and let My Spirit flow through you!”

And I saw the remnant arise, moving in unity, their steps guided by the Spirit, their voices filled with boldness. Wherever they lifted the Sword of Revival, rivers of living water flowed before them. The water surged into dry, cracked lands, bringing life where there had been death. Deserts bloomed, trees of righteousness took root, and their fruit brought healing to the nations. The fragrance of life filled the air, mingling with the sound of angelic shofars that echoed across the heavens, announcing the glory of the Lord.

As the sword moved, chains fell from captives, strongholds crumbled, and blind eyes were opened. The remnant cried aloud, “Repent and return to the Lord, for He is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love!” (Joel 2:13, AMP). Multitudes came, weeping in repentance, drawn by the Spirit. The fire of revival ignited in hearts, spreading like a holy blaze that could not be quenched. The Sword of Revival played a central role in this awakening.

I saw the remnant gather together in prayer, their hands lifted not for themselves, but for one another. They cried out, “Lord, make us one, as You and the Father are one! Let there be no division among us, but unite us in Your Spirit, that the world may see Your glory!” Their unity became a beacon, shining brightly in the darkness, and the Spirit poured out in fullness. Fires of revival ignited across cities, counties, and nations as the people of God moved as one body under one King with the Sword of Revival.

The heavens resounded as the Lord proclaimed: “This is the hour of My great outpouring! Let those who have ears to hear, repent. Humble yourselves before Me, love one another, and I will heal your land. My rivers will not cease, and My fire will not be quenched. The sword is ready, but only the surrendered and the united can wield it.”

To you, dear reader, hear this call: The Lord is extending the Sword of Revival to His people. But it is not given lightly. Lay down your pride, your sin, your idols, and even your offenses. Humble yourself before Him and seek unity with the saints. Let your prayers rise as incense, and let Him forge in you a vessel for His glory. The Spirit is moving, the time is now, and the call is clear—repent, unite, and let His glory flow through you. Will you take up the call and wield the Sword of Revival?

Prayer:

Father, we come before You with broken and contrite hearts. We repent of our sins and lay down our pride. Forgive us for the divisions among us, and teach us to love one another as You have loved us. Cleanse us, Lord, and make us one body, united in purpose and filled with Your Spirit. Take our prayers, our tears, and our surrender, and forge them into instruments for Your glory. Let Your living water flow through us, breaking chains, healing hearts, and igniting revival with the power of the Sword of Revival. Use us to bring life to the barren places, and let Your glory cover the earth as the waters cover the sea. In Jesus’ mighty name, Amen.

See Also

Revival, The Pursuit, Visions

A Vision of Pursuit: The Call of the Holy One

And I looked, and behold, a great and radiant throne, high and lifted up, and One sat upon it whose glory filled the heavens. His face shone like the brilliance of the sun, and from His throne flowed rivers of fire and living water, rushing with life and power. Around Him was an innumerable multitude, crying out with a single voice, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was and who is and who is to come!”

Then I heard the voice of the Lamb, like the roar of many waters, calling to the earth, saying, “Awaken, My beloved! Return to Me, for I am your Creator, your First Love, the One who formed you and called you by name. Come to Me, all who are weary, all who thirst for righteousness, all who hunger for life. Seek Me, not for the works of My hands, but for the beauty of My face. Pursue Me with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength, for I am near.”

And the Spirit said, “See now what happens when the beloved awaken to His call and return to their Lord.”

I saw the saints arise, their spirits ignited like flames. They cast aside every weight, every chain, and every distraction that had held them captive. Their hearts burned with longing, their eyes fixed on the Lamb. As they awakened to Him and returned to their First Love, I saw the veil of this world torn away. The noise of the earth grew faint, and the burdens they carried dissolved like mist in the light of His glory. The Spirit declared, “Return to Me, for I have redeemed you” (Isaiah 44:22), and “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom”(2 Corinthians 3:17).

Then I beheld the Lamb as He stepped down from His throne, His robes shimmering with the light of heaven. His arms stretched wide, and His voice thundered, “Awaken and return to Me: Be released!” At His word, chains shattered, fear fled, and darkness was swallowed up in His radiance. His people, clothed in garments of white, pressed forward into His presence, crying out, “You alone are worthy! You are our desire!”

And I saw signs and wonders break forth, not because the people sought them, but because they sought Him. Healing flowed like rivers, washing over the nations. Hearts were mended, bodies restored, and the weary were renewed. But their eyes never left the Lamb, for they pursued not the miracles, but the Miracle Worker. The Spirit declared, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied” (Matthew 5:6).

The saints fell before His throne, consumed by the beauty of His presence. They sang, “Whom have we in heaven but You? And besides You, we desire nothing on earth” (Psalm 73:25). The distractions of the world melted away, and all that remained was the fullness of joy in His presence.

And the Lamb turned His face toward them, and I heard Him say, “Well done, My beloved. You have awakened and returned to Me with all your heart. Enter now into the joy of your Lord, for I have prepared a place for you.”

Then the Spirit cried out, “Awaken, O children of God! Return to the Holy One who loves you with an everlasting love. Seek not what He gives, but who He is. Cast aside every weight, and run to the One who is worthy of all devotion.”

And I beheld the heavens resounding with the cry of the redeemed, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty!”

Will you answer the call, beloved? Awaken. Return. He is waiting for you. Run to Him.

Prayer of Awakening and Return

Heavenly Father, we come before You with humble hearts, recognizing that we have allowed the distractions of this world to cloud our vision of You. We confess that we have often sought Your hand more than Your face, and we ask for Your forgiveness. Lord, awaken our hearts to the beauty of who You are. Stir within us a holy desire to return to You, our First Love, and to seek You with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength.

Father, we thank You for the gift of Your Son, Jesus Christ, whose blood has opened the way for us to enter Your presence. We thank You that through Him, every chain is broken, every burden lifted, and every sin forgiven. Lord, we pray that You would draw us closer to Yourself. Remove the distractions that vie for our attention and fix our eyes on You, the author and finisher of our faith.

Help us to hunger and thirst for righteousness, to pursue You not for what You can give, but for who You are. Teach us to delight in Your presence and to rest in the assurance of Your unfailing love. May Your Spirit fill us with boldness, freedom, and joy as we step into the fullness of life You have called us to live.

Lord, we pray for revival in our hearts, our homes, and our communities. Awaken Your people to the truth of Your Word. Call us back to You, O God, and set our hearts on fire for Your kingdom. May Your glory fill the earth as Your people rise to proclaim Your greatness.

We surrender all that we are to You today, Lord. Take our lives, our hopes, and our dreams, and use them for Your glory. May we be vessels of Your love, shining Your light in a world that so desperately needs You.

We love You, Lord, and we long to know You more. Awaken us. Draw us back to You. And let Your name be praised forever and ever. In the mighty name of Jesus Christ, we pray. Amen.

See Also

Break the curse, Joy, Life, Visions

The Call to Joy: Rejecting the Lies and Embracing God’s Truth

Throughout Scripture, God reminds us that His will for us is to be filled with joy, peace, and wholeness. Often, we find ourselves weighed down by negative words spoken over us, whether by parents, friends, or others who may not realize the power of their words. These words can be like curses, shaping our minds to believe we are less than who God says we are. But God does not call you to live under the weight of such words. Instead, He calls you to shake off the lies and live in the fullness of His promises.

The Bible speaks clearly about the power of words. “Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruit” (Proverbs 18:21 AMP). Words can either build us up or tear us down. Sadly, when words of discouragement like “You’re dumb,” “You’re ugly,” or “You’ll never amount to anything” are spoken over us, they can create strongholds in our minds that hinder us from stepping into the life God has for us. However, these words do not define who we are. Only God’s truth does.

Shaking Off the Lies

The enemy wants us to believe that we are bound by the words spoken over us. He wants us to feel inadequate, unloved, and hopeless. Yet, the Word of God declares that we are not victims of our past. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation [reborn and renewed by the Holy Spirit]; the old things [the previous moral and spiritual condition] have passed away. Behold, new things have come [because spiritual awakening brings a new life]” (2 Corinthians 5:17 AMP). We must recognize that when we are in Christ, we are no longer subject to the curses others may have spoken over us. We are children of God, free and empowered by the Holy Spirit to live out His truth.

Jesus Himself came to set us free. “The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me, because He has anointed Me to preach the good news to the poor. He has sent Me to announce release (pardon, forgiveness) to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free those who are oppressed (downtrodden, bruised, crushed by tragedy)” (Luke 4:18 AMP). This freedom is not just from sin, but from every form of oppression, including the emotional and mental chains created by the hurtful words of others.

Breaking Free from Abuse

One of the most devastating lies the enemy whispers into the hearts of many women is that they deserve the abuse they are suffering. Whether it is physical, emotional, or verbal abuse, no one is called to endure such pain. Some women trapped in these situations are told by their abusers—or even believe themselves—that they are unworthy of love or that they are at fault. This is a lie from the enemy, designed to keep them bound in cycles of hurt.

God does not desire for anyone to live in fear or in pain. He speaks clearly about the treatment of His beloved children: “For I know the plans and thoughts that I have for you,’ says the Lord, ‘plans for peace and well-being and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope” (Jeremiah 29:11 AMP). His heart is for healing, restoration, and wholeness, not for abuse or harm.

Abuse, in all its forms, is a violation of God’s design for relationships. Women who suffer in silence, believing they deserve the pain, need to hear the truth: You are loved beyond measure, and you are precious in His sight. In His eyes, you are worthy of dignity, respect, and love.

The Bible speaks directly to the protection of the oppressed. “The Lord also will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble” (Psalm 9:9 AMP). If you are in a situation where you are being harmed, God is calling you to safety and healing. You do not deserve to be mistreated, and God longs to deliver you from the hands of those who harm you. You are His child, and He will shelter you under His wings.

The Path to Wholeness

God does not call us to settle for brokenness or unhappiness. He calls us to wholeness in Him. “I came that they may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance [to the full, till it overflows]” (John 10:10 AMP). This abundant life includes joy, peace, and love. God’s plan for us is not to live burdened by the words of others or trapped in abusive situations. He wants us to live free in His truth, knowing that we are His treasured possession.

A Call to the Lord

For those who have never experienced the love of God, you may have been living under the weight of others’ expectations, lies, or even abuse. But today, God is calling you into His embrace. He offers you a new life—free from the burdens you’ve been carrying, free from the lies you’ve believed. Jesus came to bring you hope, to restore your heart, and to offer you eternal life through faith in Him.

The Bible says, “For God so greatly loved and dearly prized the world that He [even] gave His [One and] only begotten Son, so that whoever believes and trusts in Him [as Savior] shall not perish, but have eternal life” (John 3:16 AMP). God’s love for you is immense, and He invites you to receive the gift of His salvation through Jesus Christ. You don’t have to live in despair or carry the weight of brokenness any longer. Jesus is calling you to be made whole.

A Prayer for New Life

Let us pray:

Heavenly Father, we come before You today, recognizing that we are in need of Your love and grace. There are those here today who have been weighed down by the lies spoken over them, believing they are unworthy of love or happiness. But we know that You offer us freedom in Christ, freedom from the chains of our past, and freedom from the hurtful words that have bound us.

Lord, I pray for those who are not yet believers, those who have not yet known the joy of walking with You. Touch their hearts today. Open their eyes to see that You have only good things in store for them. You have a future of hope, a life of abundance waiting for them. May they turn to You, Lord, and find peace in Your presence.

We pray for those who have been victims of abuse, Lord. Heal their broken hearts. Help them to see that they are precious in Your sight, that they do not deserve the pain they’ve endured. Let them know that You are their refuge, their strong tower in times of trouble.

Father, we thank You for sending Your Son, Jesus Christ, to die for our sins and to offer us eternal life. I pray now for anyone who is ready to accept Jesus as their Savior: that they would confess their sins, believe in their heart that Jesus is Lord, and receive the gift of new life.

Lord, we know that You call us to live in the joy of Your salvation, and I pray that each person here today would experience that joy, that peace, and that wholeness in You. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

If you have prayed this prayer today and invited Jesus into your life, know that God has begun a new work in you. He promises to never leave you nor forsake you, and His plans for you are good. He calls you to a life of joy and fullness in Him.

The Vision

I see the Lord, descending from the heavens, clothed in radiant light, His eyes burning with an indescribable love for His beloved. As He steps into the midst of your pain and burdens, His presence fills the air like the sweetest fragrance, overwhelming every fear and silencing every lie. His voice, like the sound of rushing waters, calls your name with tenderness, saying, “You are Mine, cherished beyond measure.”

He reaches out, and with a gentle touch, every weight falls away. His robe, the train of which fills the earth with His glory, wraps around you, and you are made whole. No longer bound by the lies of the past, you are lifted into the light of His truth. In this moment, you are held by the One who knows you fully and loves you beyond comprehension. He whispers, “You are precious in My sight. I am making all things new.”

Then, with eyes full of joy, He takes your hand, the One who made the heavens and the earth. Together, you begin to dance—every step drawing you deeper into His heart, every movement healing wounds you thought would never fade. As you spin in His embrace, your eyes are opened to a heavenly sight: the angelic hosts surrounding you, majestic and mighty, standing guard with swords of fire. These are the ones He has placed around you to protect and defend you.

In this sacred dance, you realize you are never alone. The Creator of all rejoices over you, and His angels encamp around you. His love shields you, His presence fills you, and you are safe in His arms, cherished for all eternity.

See Also

Visions

Vision of God’s Glory

Behold the vision, glorious and overwhelming, as the Almighty sits enthroned in radiant majesty. His throne gleams like sapphire, His form surrounded by fire that pulses with life. Flames rise around Him, yet the heat is not one of fear but of warmth—inviting, like the hearth of a loving Father’s home. His glory fills the space, so bright you can scarcely look upon Him, yet you feel drawn to Him, as though if you could just reach out, your hand might touch the hem of His robe (Malachi 4:2). The light surrounds you, not consuming but embracing, a tangible reminder that He is not distant—He is here, with you (Deuteronomy 31:6).

His voice thunders through the air like the roar of many waters, commanding awe and reverence, but beneath its power, there is a gentleness, a call that pulls at your heart (Revelation 1:15). “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty,” the seraphim cry, their wings trembling at His presence, but your spirit knows He calls not only them but also you (Isaiah 6:3, Revelation 4:8). His voice echoes deep within, a Father beckoning His children to come closer (John 10:27). The ground trembles beneath your feet, but you are not shaken. The whole earth is filled with His glory (Habakkuk 2:14), yet He is close, as near as the breath you draw (Acts 17:27).

The air is thick with the scent of incense, rising with the prayers of the saints, and as it swirls around you, it carries a sense of peace, as though the very fragrance of His presence assures you that you are not alone (Revelation 5:8). You are standing on holy ground (Exodus 3:5), yet the fear that once gripped you dissolves in the presence of His love (1 John 4:18). The fire that burns before His throne does not consume—it cleanses, making a way for you to come near (Isaiah 6:6-7), to be close to the One who knows you by name (Isaiah 43:1).

His gaze, like flames of fire, pierces through the depths of your soul (Revelation 1:14), yet there is no condemnation, only a Father’s love (Romans 8:1). His eyes see everything—every hidden corner, every unspoken thought—and still, He calls you to come (Psalm 139:1-3). You feel His nearness, like a protective presence beside you (Psalm 91:1-2), guiding you, comforting you. The weight of His glory presses down upon you, but it is not crushing—it is the comforting embrace of a Father who holds His child close (Isaiah 40:11).

You long to reach out, to touch Him, for His presence feels so near, so real. Though His throne is high and lifted up, He is not far away. He is the loving Father who walks with His children (Isaiah 41:10). He stands by your side, even in the midst of His majesty, His hand always outstretched toward you. And in that moment, you know, with a certainty deeper than anything you have ever known, that He will never leave you, never forsake you (Hebrews 13:5).

And then, as suddenly as it began, the vision fades. The fire that burned so brightly, the throne that stood high and exalted, the radiant light that filled the heavens—all begins to dim. Yet, though your eyes no longer see, you know that His presence remains. The roar of many waters quiets, the voices of the seraphim fall still, and the trembling of the earth beneath your feet ceases.

But the peace lingers, a deep and abiding assurance that the One who was, who is, and who is to come still reigns. His majesty, His power, and His love are not confined to the vision—they are everlasting. The glory of the Lord endures forever, and His hand remains outstretched toward you, guiding you, calling you, walking with you through every shadow and every light.

As the vision closes, you are left standing, filled with awe, but also with a profound sense of hope. The One seated on the throne is not far off—He is near. He is your Father, and His kingdom will never end.

“He who testifies to these things says, ‘Yes, I am coming quickly.’ Amen. Come, Lord Jesus. The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all. Amen.”

(Revelation 22:20-21)

See Also

Be Still, Visions

The Call to the Father’s Embrace: A Vision of Heavenly Love

As I stood in the stillness of my room, a voice like thunder yet tender broke through the quiet: “Come up here.” My heart raced as I recognized the call of the Lord. In an instant, the room around me dissolved, and I was transported to a place beyond the natural. The air became thick with the fragrance of heaven—sweet as incense and fresh like the morning mist. I stood at the threshold of the Almighty’s throne room.

Before me, the Throne of God radiated a light brighter than the sun, but it did not blind me. Surrounding the throne were living creatures, their voices continually echoing, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come.” Their song filled the atmosphere, vibrating through every part of my being.

Overwhelmed, I fell to the ground, my face against the glassy sea beneath the throne. Every sense was alive with the presence of God. My soul responded in worship, as though created for this very moment. Words of adoration flowed from my lips, and I was completely overtaken by the majesty of the One seated on the throne.

In the midst of my worship, His voice called again, softer yet powerful: “Come up here.” Though I feared the holiness before me, His love drew me forward. My legs trembled as I rose and approached the steps leading to the throne.

As I neared, the King of Kings rose from His seat, His glory filling every corner of heaven. He extended His hand towards me, and with a tender touch, lifted my chin, causing my eyes to meet His. His gaze was both fiery and gentle, overflowing with love.

“Come up here, my son,” He spoke once more. With ease, He lifted me and placed me on His lap. The peace of God enveloped me in a way I had never experienced. I rested my head on His chest, listening to the eternal rhythm of His heartbeat.

He began to speak—not just to me but over me. “You are My child,” He declared. “I have called you by name. No weapon formed against you will prosper. You will walk in My strength, for I am with you, and I go before you.”

His words breathed life into me, filling every part of my soul. “You will rise with wings like eagles,” He continued, “run and not grow weary, walk and not faint. I have set you apart for My purpose. You are My chosen, and through you, the nations will be blessed.”

As His words enveloped me, they became a song. His voice, filled with love, sang over me. “My beloved,” He sang, “you are Mine, and I am yours. Before the foundations of the world, I knew you. Nothing can separate you from My love.”

His hands, resting gently on me, moved in rhythm with His song. “You are the apple of My eye,” He continued, “My delight and joy. When you rise, I rise with you. My love is deeper than the seas, higher than the heavens.”

The song swirled around me, lifting me higher, pulling me deeper into His love. As the melody faded, His final words lingered in my heart: “Rest, My beloved child.”

When I awoke, it was morning, and I was back in my bed. But the memory of His love song was still fresh, the warmth of His presence remaining in my soul. I rose, ready to face the day, His words still echoing: “Come up here, My beloved.”

See Also