Through The Doors

I struggled all morning with whether or not to post this dream. It’s not a pretty one. In fact, it’s absolutely horrifying to me.

In the dream, I was speaking with a friend about church leadership. I couldn’t tell you who the friend was—just that I knew him, and that I trusted him. He said, “Let me take you on a walk and show you a few things.” I agreed, and we began walking.

We entered a neighborhood overwhelmed by homelessness, addiction, and despair. It reminded me of a time years ago when Randal Greene and I went to the ManPower conference at the MCI Center in Washington, D.C. As we walked from the car to the arena, we passed a heartbreaking display of human suffering. All I could do was weep.

So I asked my friend, who seemed to know exactly where he was going, “Why isn’t anybody helping these people?”
He looked me in the eye and said, “You can’t help people when you’re in dire need of help yourself.”

Eventually, we arrived at the place he wanted to show me. We walked up to a building. I couldn’t tell what it was at first—just that it felt heavy. My friend said quietly, “This used to be my church.” I looked at him and saw tears streaming down his face.

We opened the doors and stepped into a dimly lit, smoke-filled room. As I looked around at the crowd, I recognized some people—others I’d never seen before. Many were in church leadership: pastors, deacons, elders, teachers. Some wore titles around their necks like trophies—Apostle, Prophet, Evangelist, Pastor, Worship Leader, Bishop, Elder, Deacon—as if they were worshipping the title more than the One who gave the calling.

The longer we stayed, the more the building began to take on the appearance of a brothel. I can’t explain how I knew that—it was just what it became. Many of the leaders began dancing with one another, and strange women began walking in. They flirted, danced, and laughed with each other as if it were a party. I knew some of them were married, and I tried to confront them—but no words would come out of my mouth.

My friend looked at me and said, “There’s more I need to show you.”

We walked into another room, one that seemed important—like it should have been guarded but wasn’t. Inside, it was very dark. The people here were the top of the top—MVPs, VIPs. As I looked at them, I saw strange things moving in and out of their mouths. Spirits, maybe. When something entered them, their bodies would swell with energy, almost like they were coming alive. But when they exhaled, they’d collapse like shriveled shells—lifeless—until they breathed in again.

Suddenly, light began to shine from my friend, illuminating the room. The people looked leprous. Again, I can’t explain how I knew that—I’ve never seen a leper—but that’s what they were. I turned to my friend, confused.

He said, “These are the ones who were in charge of it all. They allowed themselves to be lulled into comfort and arrogance. Their worship became self-serving, and they lost all sensitivity to the move of the Spirit. They think they’re spiritual—but what they’ve breathed in is sorcery and witchcraft. I sent them warning after warning. But because I used people they didn’t approve of, they rejected them. And in doing so, they rejected Me.”

At that moment, my eyes were opened, and I realized who my friend was. It was like the moment when the two disciples on the road to Emmaus finally realized they were walking with Jesus.

We returned to the first room. I looked again, and boils and deformities were breaking out all over the people. Screams of agony and pain echoed through the air. The smell... it was suffocating. A stench so thick you could feel it clinging to your skin.

My Friend turned to me and said,
“This is what I’ve smelled coming from My House for a long time. I’ve sent warning after warning. Some listened and repented. Others were so caught up in emotion and image that they believe they’re part of the remnant—yet they are leprous. They can no longer feel My Spirit. It’s all about feelings instead of faith. They’ve been lulled to sleep. And when they rejected My alarm, they rejected Me. I have turned them over to their own imaginations. My judgment starts now!”

As I walked out of that building—back into the neighborhood of destitution—it was like breathing fresh air. Yes, it was a broken place. But somehow, there was hope there. This, I realized, is where true ministry can take root. This is where hearts are seeking God… while in the place He has now called Ichabod.

He said,
“My house is a house of prayer, but you have turned it into a brothel. You’ve allowed every kind of witchcraft and soothsaying to enter. You’ve become leprous in spirit and don’t even realize that My judgment is already upon you. You’ve been afraid to declare My words. You’ve allowed others to occupy your pulpits, and you’ve refused to evict them. You’ve stopped seeking My face—and instead have sought the hand of man.”

RETURN TO ME, AND I WILL RETURN TO YOU.
REPENT AND BE HOLY, FOR I AM HOLY.
TAKE COURAGE NOW AND STAND UP.
SHAKE OFF THE THINGS THAT HAVE HELD YOU BOUND.