Straighten up, shoulders back

and raise your heads ...

“Now when these things begin to take place, straighten up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” — Luke 21:28

Last night, I dreamed something unusual — no flying this time, or running with pails of fire, being tugged back by invisible hands. This time I stepped through the canvas of a round tent — not one built for camping, but a mobile museum of revival. Lots of people were gathered, watching, standing or sitting on the floor - amazed. Some cheered, clapped, and even cried, hugging themselves with folded arms as if lamenting. The air carried the library-scent of old hymnals and history. Around me, flickering images danced on the tent walls, reminding me of something I had seen in a coffee shop in downtown Beirut, showing Leonard Cohen on darkened walls singing Hineni, Hineni - these were black and white turning to colour, past and present tied together as images in a divinely inspired montage.

Flickering and crackling there, in the way old black and white films do, was William Branham - voice calm and eyes looking intent- quietly, almost shyly, calling out afflictions before praying for their healing. A.A. Allen wandered back and forth, firm, sweat on his face, commanding cancer to leave - and it did. Jack Coe, almost too loud and just as unstoppable, with energy, preaching with a fire that dared illness to remain. A late friend of mine whispered names and dates that only heaven and the person addressed could have known. Amy Semple McPherson, bold as a lioness, proclaiming the gospel in a theatre-turned-temple. Kathryn Kuhlman moved with a broken elegance, her hands trembling almost dancing with awe more than power.

So many others — known and unknown — their obedience echoing in that shimmering tent. And then, as dreams tend to do, the colour drained, the voices dimmed, and the tent faded — the people gone. Here we are. Not in sepia-toned nostalgia, but in the living present. And still, the same Spirit moves. God is still doing ‘stuff’ or better still, in the language of Narnia, “Aslan is (still) on the move!”

This is not a time for navel gazing, staring at the floor wondering, worrying, pondering. Jesus said, “Lift up your heads.” Not when the path is clear or the world agreeable, but when the sky darkens and the earth groans. He spoke it in the shadow of Jerusalem’s coming ruin — and for the days that would echo with its trembling. He was not calling for naïve optimism. He was commanding hope - the kind that stands when all else falls. Here we are.

These are such days. Wars no longer surprise us. Nations are more divided than aligned. Law is detached from righteousness. Morality is market-driven, and in the midst of it all, men cry “peace” without the Prince of Peace. We’ve built towers without foundations, and we are watching them totter, sway, fall and crash. Sounds bad, because it is…

Good news exists though - God’s people are not those who look out in fear — we look up in faith. Our hope is not seated in parliament or propped up by policy. It is anchored in a throne that will not be shaken. Christ’s words are sharper now than ever: “Raise your heads.” Not in pride. Not in ignorance. But in defiant trust. Our redemption is drawing near, and here we are- the Kingdom of God is advancing not withdrawing.

This isn’t just about surviving— it’s about aligning ourselves with what our God is doing, cooperating with the work of the Spirit in our hearts and lives. It's not all bad news, far from it - alongside the shaking, there is an awakening — some are calling it the ‘quiet’ revival. The outpouring of the Spirit is not a legend — it’s happening. In houses and halls, in cities and school halls. The miracles are not museum pieces — they are present realities. The same Spirit that fell in Acts is falling still. Not as spectacle, but as sign — pointing us to the One who still heals, still speaks, still saves. Here we are, and there is the sound of angelic, kingdom activity.

Yes, there is a falling away — the Scriptures are clear — but there is also a Church that is emerging, rising, filled with the oil of intimacy and the fire of obedience. The true Church — the blood-bought, Spirit-filled, cross-centred people of God — are not dwindling, they’re deepening, learning how to walk with God in intimacy and obedience — overshadowed by grace and faith.

So, we do not panic — we prepare. The Spirit is clothing sons and daughters in power from on high, as He said He would. (Joel 2) The lame walk. The deaf hear. The gospel is preached with signs following — not as decoration, but as divine authentication. This is not a new third wave — it’s the same river, flowing from the same throne.

If your heart has grown cold, hear Jesus’ admonition: “Lift up your head.” If your hands hang limp, remember His were pierced. If your eyes have dimmed, fix them once more on the horizon. Redemption is not a concept — it is Christ Himself and He is coming.

We don’t just reminisce about revival — we live ready for it. We remember the tent of the past, yes. But more than that, we remember the God who filled it, and we declare with every fibre: Jesus is Lord. Jesus saves. Jesus baptises in the Holy Spirit. Jesus is coming again.

And that — that is why we lift up our heads.