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The Visitation of God's Glory One night in our village I was awakened repeatedly by a vivid picture of a man flashing before me. His shoulders were bowed over and his face was buried in his hands. When I walked up to him, he looked up, but he couldn't speak. His eyes were swollen and red from weeping and I backed away. A few days passed by and then I encountered this man. It all began when Barry and I taught each day for a week during the lunch hour for a Karamajong Ministry in Kampala.
Most of them were prominent business people, government officials and the staff of President Museveni's wife. Barry and I proclaimed the Word of God concerning His glory. We taught a hard, challenging message about the sins against His glory that are epidemic in the Body of Christ, including in Africa. Everyone stared intently at us. They barely moved as we declared the need for a genuine, unselfish love for one another and a repentance for our sins against love that goes so deep we can never go back to the person we used to be. "This is what it is going to take," we passionately explained, "if we are ever going to see the same power and miracles that exploded like wildfire in the early church." Day after day we were all humbled by an increasing awareness that we were seeking to be in the presence of a holy God. A stirring conviction began to grip all of us concerning the negative, grumbling, judgmental, unkind words we speak that shattered unity and grieved the Holy One of Israel. Instruction was also given that the Lord doesn't want us to stay in the outer court where so many of His children spend their entire lives praising Him. "He loves our praise," we shared, "but He also desires for His children to go beyond the outer court and come intimately close to Him in the Holy of Holies." We briefly taught that God wants His people to sing their love to Him in their own "new song," just like took place in a simple, humble tent on Mount Zion that was called the Tabernacle of David. The people listened in rapt silence as we taught that the Father longs for the restoration of worship that David imparted to the Israelites (Amos 9:11 KJV, Acts 15:16 NASB) because it is heartfelt, intimate worship that ushers people into His presence. We carefully explained that as people humbly and reverently seek His face, the glory of the Lord descends. Supernatural breakthroughs, healings and deliverances from all evil oppression take place. Lives are sovereignly and miraculously changed forever.
As we anticipated the day we would all worship together on Friday, I asked the Lord to help me sing in the languages of the people. Whenever I tried to help the Africans enter into worship in the "new song," my English was a hindrance. They needed to hear me sing in their own language so that during worship they could quickly go with me into the glorious presence of our God. Within days of that prayer, I was able to sing fluently in Luganda, the language of the region where we lived; in Luo, the language of the Karamajong; and in Swahili, the language that is commonly spoken on Mt. Elgon in the Village of Sadness. "Mama, you are speaking these languages perfectly," our Ugandan ministry team kept telling me. This was an astounding miracle. Friday morning finally came. Shortly after we arrived, there wasn't room for everyone. Many stood outside the door. The chorus, Create In Me A Clean Heart, soon rose up as a fervent plea from the depths of our souls. We were instantly gripped by a deep revival repentance and then a holy hush fell upon us. This sacred silence consumed us with an overwhelming reverence for the God who had descended so swiftly and powerfully upon us and engulfed us. Then our voices rose with the harp like a heavenly sounding choir. The minute I began to sing in Luo, Swahili and Luganda, an avalanche of tears broke forth and all over the room people fell to their knees and wept. We worshipped as if we were all one voice. It seemed like the walls trembled with the sound of our passionate adoration to the Lord. A humble brokenness overwhelmed us and we were overcome by the visitation of the glory of God in our midst. Forty-five minutes later it was time for everyone to return to their businesses and offices in high places. When everyone had departed, I walked out into the narrow, weather beaten veranda that was just outside the meeting place. There sat an older man a short distance from the room. He was covering his face with his large, black hands. He wasn't part of the group of believers who had gathered in that place. He simply was someone from one of the nearby shops who had been drawn by what was happening and had been overtaken by it. I quietly stood in front of him and realized that this was the man in my dream. When he looked up, he couldn't speak. His eyes were red from weeping and his face was wet with his tears. I quietly nodded as if to say to him, "I understand," and backed away. Unknown to me, what had happened to this man had happened to everyone on the street below. This road is the most chaotically busy street in Kampala. It is always impossibly congested with teeming masses of people, loud shouts from shopkeepers and a crush of noisy, honking cars. Yet as we worshipped in that upper room, all traffic stopped on Kampala Road. Clamoring shopkeepers were quiet and all the people stood everywhere in awed silence. Barry told me about this amazing occurrence. Then Paul, the former witchdoctor of Seguku, and also our Karamajong guard, Joseph, related this same story to me. "No one moved, Mama," Joseph explained. "The glory of God came down so powerfully over the building that the cars and the people couldn't move. They could only be silent for as far as I could see in every direction. Crowds of people were looking up at the window of the room where we were gathered. Many were pointing to the window and asking in a whisper, 'What is this? What is happening in that place?'" Joseph stood erect in front of me and firmly gripped both of my hands in his as he looked intently into my eyes. "Mama Ruth," he earnestly said, "this is what the glory of God can do when people will come with humble hearts before Him and worship Him with all their heart and soul and strength. I felt like I was worshipping with the angels, Mama," he said as he slightly bowed his head and lowered his eyes to the ground. "I will never forget the day of the visitation of God's glory in that place." Moments later a key leader of the ministry that had hosted the meetings, offered to accompany us to our vehicle.
"The men of Africa don't cry," he explained as he walked by our side. "But today the men in that place shed many tears. Even I cried," he said with amazement as he glanced up at the sky to acknowledge the God who had so moved his soul. Then his voice filled with tender awe…
We paused together and silently looked out over the street that was once again crowded with noisy cars and an endless sea of busy, bustling people. He spoke again in a passionate voice…
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