Called to the Sound

I looked up at the building towering just above me. This was it. Small. Insignificant-looking on the outside. But I knew what was inside. This was it.
I entered through the doors from the outside, the cool air blowing in from behind me along with the sounds of people bustling about as they ran about the daily routine duties of campus-life. Warmth and the light from the indoors was comforting. But I wasn’t to stop here. I could hear the music behind the other doors… and it was as if I could feel his presence seeping through the very cracks, leaking into the lobby.
This is it.
For the first time in my entire life, I entered through them. As I stepped over the threshold into the room, the thickness of the atmosphere engulfed me like a wave. It was as if I could feel the very presence of God dwelling here, as a kindling flame in the depths of this prayer room. On-going for 12 years thus far. Non-stop. There was almost a sacred thickness about the room. The music rang into my ears; the prophetic words being proclaimed here.
The room was lit but rather dim. People stood and sat all around the area in chairs that were rowed throughout the room. Flags of the nations lined the back wall along with a world-map replica painted onto the wall itself, where a man was laying his hands on countries with his head lowered. A few people walked up and down the isles in a repetitive manner, some with an open book in their hands and some walking just slowly and empty-handed. One would call it pacing, or even crazy if they didn’t know any better. But the thoughtful look in their eyes as their ears lay attentative to their thoughts and to the music said that their concentration was elsewhere. Some of their mouths moved in prayer, and others didn’t, as if they were listening to God’s audible voice itself when it really came on the inside. Some people sat or stood. Others leaned against the walls…

Some stood on the stage with an instrument in their hands.

I sat down, lowering my backpack beside me and looking around, soaking in the atmosphere carefully. But I couldn’t stay here. I lifted my head to look at what was ahead of me, stood up, and walked toward the front. I was slightly timid, having not been here before. Slightly nervous at moving to the front, but the boldness and desire in me broke fourth. My heart carried me closer and closer to the place I knew I was suppose to be. I stood in the front as a few others did and I watched them, but listened to his voice. I felt the presence of God moving around the room as they played what their hearts told them to. As they spoke the sound of the words they sang into existence. As if every word and chord was meant for more than entertainment to others…
and it was.

This was the place I was suppose to be.
The calling of it rooted me into the ground.
The musicians and the singers pushing the ongoing sounds of heaven. I knew I looked up to them as leaders. But It wasn’t the musicians themselves as people that made up the prayer room.
It wasn’t the instruments or the voices alone.
But it was the fact that the entire place and the entire stage was meant for prophecying and bringing glory to God- singing his songs and playing his heart as a melody.
I knew I was drawn to this place. Here. I knew I belonged here. I prayed, sang, studied, hung out. Then I left, and almost cried leaving it behind. But I knew in my heart that I was called to go back home and take what I’d received from the prayer room and the conference back to give out.
On the inside I knew I’d be back. And I knew one day I’d be one of the prophetic musicians on the stage. Singing his songs and playing his heart as the melody. It’s what he put in me…. And it’s what dwells in my heart.