he sparrows flit around chirping sounds just like they do at home. They speak the same language in Israel as they do in Alabama. Jumping from tree to tree, hoping along the ground.
A warm breeze blows, and the fragrance of tilled earth and cut grass fills my senses. Watching the sparrows, I could believe that I am still in my backyard at home, instead of on foreign soil. The sound and smells are the same.
I sit on Mount Carmel listening to a teaching about Elijah and the false prophets of Baal while gazing at the lush farmland in the valley below. In day of contest, there was a drought; very different from the green land and fertile fields I see today.
To bring enough water to cover an alter, was no easy task for man. To consume an offering, water and all was no difficult task for our God.
Teaching time over, I make my way to the observation roof. There is a group of Asian speaking people speaking blessings over Israel, then they being to worship God singing, Shout to the Lord, in their native tongue.
I recognize the song and begin to sing it with them in English.
Some Swedes are near and begin to sing in their tongue and blowing a Shofar.
There were people speaking Spanish who joined in with their native tongue and tambourines that have colorful ribbons on them.
A woman beside me who wore clothing that reminded me of India was raising her hands in worship singing in her own language.
All of us singing in our native tongue, singing in harmony, clapping and bringing instruments of praise is the most amazing moment for me, it is such a beautiful sound.
I think, this is what heaven sounds like; I know this must bless God for us to come together as one to praise Him.
Suddenly a strong wind comes out of nowhere. When I say strong, I mean hurricane force winds. It blew hats off, it blew shirts off, and it blew people down! I bend over to hold my balance.
It lasts less than a minute. As the wind settles down, I look around at the faces trying to see if they are interpreting the wind the same as me.
There is a mighty sense of awe on all of our faces.
“That is Him”, the Indian woman whispers. I nod; too amazed to speak.
The guide calls to us to return to the bus, and reluctantly I go back. I do not want to leave.
I know the Holy Spirit is in me and with me, but I have never had Him manifest in such a tangible way before.
Sitting on the bus, traveling to the next destination, I think back on the morning. The feeling of being at home, everyone singing in a different tongue, with one voice; Different words, yet we all know what we are saying; the powerful presence of the Lord.
“This is what heaven must be like”, I think to myself.
Joining with Ann, Michelle, The Wellspring, and On In and Around Monday
Latest posts by Diane W. Bailey (see all)
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