To say that I am awestruck by the sight before me is an understatement.
For the first few days in my dream, my emotions swing between terror and awe.
I have never even imagined what a warring Angel looks like let alone seen one in such vivid detail. His feet are placed on either side of our town; his head disappears into the clouds. He hammers at a dome covering about 100 square kilometers of our region with a weapon which is a hammer on one side and an axe on the other.
It is not his size that inspires terror, but his absolute focus and cold, calculated execution of his assignment. I now understand how the Angel of death was able to kill all the firstborn of Egypt in the time of Moses. When God gives a command, they execute it without fear or favor. The focus is terrifying.
I am reminded of my nephew’s Mastiff suddenly running to attack another dog. He sprints across an entire field with no regard for any other command but his instinct and no regard for his life. If that other dog does not escape, it is dead. Only the master of the Amstaff can physically restrain it without being attacked.
Every time the hammer strikes the dome, the ground shakes and thunder rumbles in the sky. In the physical world it rains and hails with furious intensity every time a mighty blow lands. The furious hammering continues for years. All this time I try to ask the Angel who he is and what he is doing but he completely ignores me. All that exists in his world is hammer and dome. I stand directly under his left calf and know that I must not move. So I stay in that area.
In the seventh year another Angel rises up from under the Dome. This one is slightly bigger than the one hammering at the dome. He oozes terror, fear and insecurity and has a face like someone that has been in the sun taking drugs their whole life. His eyes ooze with malice and hatred. I feel his gaze sweep over me with contempt, the way a Hyena would consider a pigeon.
He unsheathes a sword that is as long as our entire town and township together and without pausing swings at the other Angel with a blow that would split the earth.
The first Angel’s hammer meets the sword with such speed that it is as if my eyes have missed an entire motion. The next movement shatters the second Angels head violently. I flinch at the clinical violence before me.
With a voice like thunder, the Angel speaks. “Behold! The prince of Ngwathe is fallen.”
Without pause, he returns to hammering the dome.
15 years have passed since the dream has started. I have not moved from where I first stood. In the first two years my wife and church members had brought me food, water and changes of clothing. They could not see the Angel but they trusted my eyes. A house was built for us on that spot. A church was built on that very spot so that I kept ministering. People from all over the world came to pray night and day in shifts.
All this time the hammering against the dome continued while the Tabernacle up the road was being built. For those fifteen years I had tried to speak to the Angel with no effect. I had asked the Holy Spirit to tell me what was happening here but there was just silence. Over the years many intimidating strongmen had attempted physical attacks on my position under the left calf but the hammer would come from on high swatting them away like rodents. Under the dome, churches were plagued by attrition and disunity. The church leaders held their ground, many surviving miraculously under the onslaught of the enemy. I knew that until this dome was shattered, they were alone.
The dream jumps to the seventeenth year. The hammering is such a part of my life that it is normal to me. I have accepted the possibility that this hammering will continue for generations. But still, I do not move from that area. I know that to move from this place is certain death.
In the seventh day of the seventh month of the seventeenth year the Holy Spirit finally speaks.
“You may ask him now. Ask not in your own authority for this is not a ministering Angel. This is an Angel of war. Ask in the authority of who you are because of who I am.”
I allow the revelation of the statement to wash over me, look up and speak boldly.
“Greetings in the name of the lord of the hosts and the armies of Israel extended.”
His facial expression is indistinguishable through the clouds but I see his head turn towards me and feel his gaze upon me for a split second before he strikes the dome again.
Suddenly I grow rapidly, expanding upwards and outwards in precise proportion until I am the same size that he is. The view below me is like that out of an airplane window, or Google maps at 3 km above earth. It takes me a few moments to adjust to this incredible perspective.
He speaks in between each strike against the dome. Not one beat missed, focus in its purest form.
“You are indeed Israel extended. The promise of the Father to Abraham made manifest through the sacrifice of the son. It frustrates us that so few of you manifest this.”
BOOM, the hammer strikes the dome again.
I ask the question that has been on my lips for the past 17 years. “What is this dome that you strike so?”
“Our name for it is power of the air. You would call it a prevailing mind-set or multicultural paradigm.”
I think about it for a while; “So thoughts are literal heavenly barriers?”
Angel: “Not individual thoughts, collectives, Ecclesia if you will.”
Me: “I thought Ecclesia was the name for the early church.”
Angel: “The early church simply adopted the term for the word ‘assembly’. Strongholds cannot be created without a large assembly (or Ecclesia) agreeing upon who has authority over the air above and around them. You are either in the assembly of the lord of hosts or in the assembly of the prince of the power of the air. Both are churches with different lords. Power is granted through unanimous agreement.”
The revelation hits the air out of my lungs but I still do not grasp something.
Me: “If this Ecclesia has agreed on a particular belief system, are you not violating their free will by hammering at it so?”
Angel: “The Ecclesia is no longer unanimous. You are one as We are one.” His hammer strikes the dome again and then he swings it behind him to point at the tabernacle. “I have been here from the laying of the first stone.”
The hammer strikes again and he continues:
“When you are one as We are one, even Sodom and Nineveh can be saved.”
My brain works fast to assemble this information, I don’t want to forget or miss anything.
Me: “Who is the ‘we’ you refer to?
Angel: “The Son, the Father, the Holy Spirit, the witnesses and the Angelic host.”
His hammer strikes the dome again; I feel the earth shake under my feet 3km below me.
Me: “So you came here because we are in unity? Is it as simple as that?”
Angel: “Your Ecclesia is one as we are one, your desire to set the captives free is unanimous, thus I am here.”
He points back at the Overcomers Tabernacle again with his hammer. “As long as you are as one, I will be here.”
Me: “Where did you come from?”
Angel: “I was in Brazil for a long time, now I am here.”
Me: “Those praying at the Tabernacle are from all over nation and the world. Why a small town like this?”
Angel “It starts here because the unanimity is here. When this dome falls, others will fall without my intervention. I am here because of the blood of the lamb; it is the word of your testimonies that will shatter the other domes.”
I am not sure if it is relief, joy or sorrow, but there, with my head in the clouds (literally) I start to sob uncontrollably. The idea of a nation freed from the horrible slavery of poverty, strongholds of Christian disunity and the cold domination of greed is too much for me to bear as a possible reality. This with the awareness that this is a vision and not yet a manifest reality breaks my heart. I stand weeping at the horrible fact that if those in power do not see this vision, it will skip three generations or more.
I weep because I have held back this disappointment in the body of Christ for so long and now, here, in this very moment I see the damage that is done by those who refuse to work together. I drop to one knee above the river and my tears fall upon the waters below in explosive splashes. My reflection shows an old man with grey hair. I am a few months short of 60 years old. This journey has been so long and this vision might not come to pass.
The Angel rests his hammer upon the earth beside him, breaking the rhythm that has become a part of my subconscious for the first time in almost 18 years.
I feel his hand upon my back.
“It is not you they reject, it is the son.”
Me: “How do I not take this personally? I have thrown my entire life at this. I have begged, trained, mentored, and served. I have sacrificed over and over again. Multiple bankruptcies, multiple failures. I cannot bear the thought that an entire life can be wasted so.”
Angel: “You are not the first and you will not be the last. But take heart son of sorrow, this vision may yet come to pass. Lift your eyes and behold the final blow. Receive it now in your forty second year as manifest reality and remember all you see. Let it drive you. Speak of it boldly, with fervor. Roar with the voice of the Lion of Judah. Command unity, do not request it. Those who have ears to hear will hear. Count all persecution as joy for you are one as we are one and the witnesses cheer you on as you fight this good fight.
Those who join you will run this race at your side and will no longer love their lives. Even unto death.
He grabs my shoulder and roughly lifts me up. “Only be strong and courageous!”
With those words he lifts his hammer again.
Before he strikes the dome, I ask him a final question.
“Who are you?”
He focuses on the dome, with hammer raised above his head.
“Behold son of sorrow, I am Michael and I fight for the saints and for the Lamb.”
The hammer comes down and the dome shatters. Millions of shards explode into the atmosphere for thousands of kilometers in every direction. The skies clear around me, the Sun illuminating the town below.
I gasp at what I see.
I can no longer see where the township starts and the town ends. There are no more shacks. Gardens and parks are filled with hundreds of playing and laughing children. The edges of town are filled with huge farms and orchards. The area that used to the township has malls, beautiful houses and not a single shack. Hundreds of beautiful churches with kindergartens and primary schools dot the entire landscape. It is a thriving city with tourists from many nations coming to experience the incredible freedom and prosperity.
I turn my head to look around the city along the river. Every resort and guesthouse overflows with guests.
Behind me, tens of thousands of people are praying, playing and growing on the property of the Overcomers tabernacle. Leaders and pastors from thousands of congregations come here to pray as one every day. Youth come to grow and have fun. Parents bring their children to experience the Bible playfully.
The impact is incredible.
Michael lays down his hammer and places his hands on either side of my shoulders. “Look further son of sorrow, look beyond time”.
I look into the future and see reformation sweep city after city and town after town. It spreads up into Africa and keeps spreading exponentially like wildfire.
Michael: “See how the saints hunger for unity?” The movement spreads into the Middle East, conquering Islam without a single shot fired; it spreads into Israel, into Palestine, into China, shifting the political balance of power into righteous hands. Then through Thailand, Singapore, the Philippines and Australia. It floods Russia and Europe, jumps to Canada and hits the rest of the Americas with such force that the world is flooded with missionaries preaching the Kingdom.
I know the vision is coming to an end and I don’t want it to stop.
We stand side by side watching the future where the Overcomers Tabernacle has been duplicated, improved and in many places is MUCH bigger.
Me: “I don’t want to wake up.”
Michael: “Have no fear son of sorrow. Succeed or fail, many are coming from across the world to stand by your side. Do not rejoice in your success or be disappointed at your failure. Rejoice that your name is written in the lamb’s book of life. Apply your faith, heed the council of those we send and know that the entire might of the Lord of hosts is behind you. We want this with the same heart that you do. We have spoken to many people across many generations. They have been scorned, rejected and hated.
They have allowed their ambition to lead their hearts but we have used them in spite of their greed. An entire generation of fallen heroes awaits the call. Shout it from the rooftops and they will come. They hunger for the good shepherd; they hunger for the father heart. Be that to them and lead the elite back to the truth.
Me: “When will you arrive?”
Michael: “When the first brick is laid.”
I wake up.
I don’t want to be awake.
Typing this makes my heart fill with emotion that I cannot bear.
These dreams are so vivid that reality seems an empty shell to me.
I have failed at so many things. I have disappointed so many people. I sit here wishing someone else had dreamed these dreams and has to lead this vision.
I must record every emotion and every thought so that you who read this may run with it.
I cannot do this alone. I don’t want to be ‘I’ anymore. I want to be a ‘we.’ I want to be hundreds. I want to be millions; I want to be ‘us’. I want us to be one as heaven is one.
I am 42 years old as I write this. I saw the cracking of the dome at a few months short of sixty years old. The Overcomers tabernacle had taken seven years from the laying of the first brick to complete.
The land upon which the tabernacle is to be built seems available without any cost but we are at the mercy of discouraged owners who had a similar dream almost a decade ago.
If they decide to sell it, we will need about R10 000 000 and then about R300 000 000 (three hundred million rand or twenty five million dollars) to build the first phase with Tabernacle, Inflatable bible stories, Ultraviolet good news, prayer hostel, Camp auditorium, bible college, Creative arts academy and TV station. Then about R20 mil ($1.5 mil) per month to keep everything free.
The property under Michael’s calf will cost about R3 mil ($200k)
Once it launches, the administrative precision will require a small army of extremely disciplined professionals who can handle a constant stream of almost 20 000 people.
Remember, everything is free. Food, accommodation, everything. Camp bookings turn every 7 days. Burn out restoration and sabbatical ministry turns every 7 months. The prayer hostel allows for a maximum stay of 41 days. 2000 permanent students across the Bible College and creative arts academy – also free.
12 permanent minsters preaching on the hour every hour with 12 guest ministers from around the country and world every day on the hour every hour.
The power is that this will be a multidenominational platform for both captains of hundreds and captains of thousands as shown in 1 Chronicles 13.
If (When) we accomplish this task, we will smash the economic divide between churches and leaders. We will heal bitterness in men and women who lead millions. We will create a refuge for thousands of burnt out leaders and restore them to even greater power.
If you cannot see why this needs to happen, pray that the scales will fall off your eyes.
With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.
God does nothing without his body.
You are his body.
Join me. Join Us.
Wow