In The Middle Of The Night

Though I sleep, my heart is awake
Though it's night, on You I wait

It's been a long night, and I am weary
It's been a long time, and I am hungry

So I'll wait in the stillness again
I'll wait in the quiet again

For when I heard Your voice
When You said my name
When I heard Your voice
My heart it yearned

In the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
My heart it yearns

(From Misty Edwards' "I Am Yours")

I awoke to the sound of shuffling luggage and manipulation of the deadbolt on our front door. A quick glance at the clock in the dark -- 4:51 am -- and I realized my parents were packing the car and preparing to make the long, 11 hour trek back to Illinois, after a week long visit to oversee the construction of their retirement home here in Arkansas.

I quickly made my way into a pair of sweats and slippers to head to living room to say goodbye and offer blessing for travelling mercies. They were ready to go and typically sweet about their reciprocal goodbyes and blessings. In moments the door was closed, the van backed out of the driveway, and the headlights flashed across the lawn, in our eyes, and on to the still dark road ahead.

My wife shuffled back down the hallway and into the bedroom, mumbling that she was going back to bed. "Are you coming?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. In fact, I had only been partially present during the last 10 minutes of goodbyes. I was still reeling in the similitude of a vision dream. It was still there --before the eyes of my heart. Clear, crisp, haunting, present.

"Hey, Marcia," I whispered toward the bedroom. "I gotta write something down. I'll be there in a little bit."

I turned on the table lamp in the living room and took a seat on the long couch. My journal and Bible were there. I began to write what I saw...

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I found myself engaged in a time of prayer with a group of worshippers from Outreach Center. We were praying about the upcoming worship set, as though we were about to take the stage and start the service.

The setting, however, was not Outreach Center. Instead, we were in, for lack of a better term, an "art gallery," with beautiful paintings of the ministry of Jesus and spiritual warfare and the like. Although I don't remember specific paintings, it was of the artistic caliber of The MasterPeace Collection from DaySpring. Large format, with gallery lighting, a room longer than wide, like a hallway.

As we finished praying, I couldn't help but feel that I was getting married today. Curiously I looked around at my co-laborers and tried to figure out who was the lucky person. My wife Marcia was there. I acknowledged that I was already married to her...some 15 years at the time. There were couples there -- was I marrying one of them? Were one of them going to marry me?

Please understand...this was not a sexual thing. It was a relationship thing. It was a yearning and an anticipation and frankly absolutely right. We all seemed to acknowledge a wedding was about to happen and that we were all involved in this relationship thing with mutual joy, anticipation, confidence, and peace. We were in love.

Then the scene changed...

I was walking in a great arena/auditorium with a stage in the center and rows upon rows of seats radiating outward and upward from the circular center to an unseen (or undefined) periphery. Over the stage was a cluster of P.A. speakers, lights, trusses, cables, and rigging. There was a underlying musical sound streaming environmentally from the speakers. The lights were slowly undulating and intelligent vari-lites were almost imperceptibly sweeping the room. There was a slight haze, which gave subtle definition to the lights with out obscuring the scene. There was a pleasant fragrance in the room.

The people I had been with in the gallery were still there but no longer a prominent part of this scene. Instead there were others scattered throughout the auditorium, busy with some sort of preparation -- I sensed each was gifted to do what they were tasked with, although I couldn't tell what any of the specific jobs actually were. It appeared that everyone was committed to their assigned duties with a sense of calling and purpose.

It was at this point that I sensed another Presence nearby, walking with me, as I was taking the scene in. We were ascending the steps of one of the aisles, moving up and away from the stage. The Persona seemed to answer a question I hadn't asked, but rather felt. "They are all preparing for the Marriage Feast of the Lamb. Each one is precious. Each one is gifted to serve. All are becoming His Bride."

I suddenly became aware of a unity of purpose throughout the room. Tables had been placed throughout the room and covered with fresh, white linen tablecloths. Place settings of silver and gold were being arranged, along with flowers and candles and simple plates of unleavened bread and a chalice of wine.

We continued to move to the rear of the auditorium, past what appeared to be like booths in the lobby of a church, only they were covered with sheets, as though awaiting the time for the doors to open and the people to come in. I sensed that everything was being prepared in proper order, with purpose, design, and simplicity. I wanted to look under the sheets to see what was there -- books, CD's, information, etc. Yet, I knew it wasn't time.

My companion ushered me along the ever narrowing walkway to a simple set of double glass doors, with aluminum frames. They were typical doors, like you'd find in a well worn office lobby. Functional, clean and yet simple. There was no signage or indication of where this place was or what it was. I pushed the first doorway, into the vestibule and through the outside door into the night air.

I stood in a back alley, with brick walls, concrete and asphalt pavement, and the smell of a city. The pavement was wet, as though it had recently rained, and in the distance I could hear traffic. Over the doorway as a intermittent light, flickering and blinking. A garbage dumpster was a couple of steps away, with residue of previous loads of refuse coming and going from this receptacle. There was no signage or indication that these humble doors led to anything. In fact, as I looked back through the glass, I was struck with the fact that this could have been an abandoned office, a back entrance to a bowling alley, or some other nondescript building in the city.

I stood there, in the cold night air, and took it all in.

After a season of waiting, I discerned the Presence once again beside me, once again answering a question that hadn't been asked. "Those who are called to come to this place will find it. For near and far away they will come -- they know the way."

I wanted to ask about my role, what was I supposed to be doing, where did I fit in this whole picture. My friend answered without speaking. "You are one of many who will lead those who will come worshipping the King who has come and will come again. Prepare for His return, yearn for that day, prepare the Bride for the Marraige Feast of the Lamb."

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I have only shared this vision, dating from the Spring of 1996 or 1997, with a very few of my trusted friends and mentors. It has humbled me many times, especially when I begin to construct a ministry around my calling, and fall under the delusion that I have something special to offer. I have laid it down many times and ceased to share it at all until now.

I will share some my reasons for this change in my next post.

Selah