We were praying with friends we've known for over 30 years who were visiting us from Israel. Seven of them plus two of us made nine. Some were seated, others were standing, but we were all holding hands - all but the youngest son who had laid his head on his seated father’s chest listening to us pray.
I was standing closest and almost over the father of the family and the son. Tender picture! I opened my eyes to see the boy had lifted his father’s T-shirt and had his finger in his belly button. The innocence of the scene melted me. I knew he was listening to the deep voice of his father praying and bonding by exploring his stomach. I whispered inside myself to the Lord, I want to put my finger in Your belly button.
It has been over a week since their visit, and today on my regular prayer walk, God picked up where I left off. “About the belly button...” He whispered. I had been loudly singing Jake Hamilton’s song “The Great I Am” with lyrics that say . . . “You are dancing and singing the Father’s song, You’re rejoicing over me.” I stopped singing mid-sentence; I sensed a great lesson coming.
“Where is My belly button?” the Lord asked. I knew the answer from Scripture. Ezekiel talks about end-times in chapter 38. Mocking the power from the north, God says, “You will say, ‘I will invade a land of unwalled villages; I will attack a peaceful and unsuspecting people - all of them living without walls and without gates and bars (present day Israel). I will plunder and loot and turn my hand against the resettled ruins and the people gathered from the nations, rich in livestock and goods (present day Israel), living at the center of the land” (vs. 11,12.) “Center of the Land” is the Hebrew word tabor (lit., "belly button"). I have known this and taught this for many years. Coupled with the picture in Galatians, “But, Jerusalem which is above is free, which is the mother of us all” makes for an intimate, close-knit family picture.
“You’ve had your finger in my belly button for 29 years,” I heard Him say. I laughed and pondered as I continued my walk. “I want to be so close, Lord!” my heart responded. “How close can I get?”
“For you are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God,” (Colossians 3:3) was His answer.
Suddenly, I could actually see myself wrapped in Christ and hid in God. I laughed at such joy . . . “I’ll bet you could sneak across borders with this info,” I thought. “I’m hid!” I said out loud. "No one can see me!!!"
My walk was about to go to a deeper level. “Do you want to hear the Father’s Song,” He asked?
Of course I did! I could visualize myself, my head bent down, ear down on His chest, finger in His belly button...and then, a rumbling began...like the lowest bass voice you have ever heard. It sounded like the thunder of a storm that you cannot yet see just over the horizon. Jake kept singing somewhere in the back of my mind, “You are dancing and singing the Father’s Song, You are dancing and singing the Father’s Song, You are dancing and singing the Father’s song, You’re rejoicing over me...” Clearly, Jesus was so excited that I was hearing the Father’s Song.
The words began...but, they were not words. They were historical-pictoral bites of God’s invasions into our world on behalf of His people, both Jews and Gentiles. My flesh began to tremble.
“Flesh does not do so well in the Presence of Your Spirit,” I commented out loud. My breath began to get short. The deep bass voice in the background turned to crashes of thunder, then to the sounds of war...nations rising in hatred, war planes breaking the peace of the quiet day. Battle grounds opened before my eyes...the amassed hordes of God-haters were on the war path. Lines were drawn in the sand; war strategies were made plain.
Angels then appeared. Clearly not a fair fight, I thought. The brightness flashed across the surface of the earth like nuclear light. Men cried for mountains to fall upon them to hide them from His Face.
Then the Bride! She has been wrapped in Christ and hidden in God, but I saw her emerge: The Lamb’s bride - from Jerusalem. She has been in preparation, but now I see her ready. She is bride-like, and although the raiment is bright as the sun, she is in armor. She is ready for war. I see nuclear blasts on earth. Then I see the Bride's Husband, face like blazing suns, eyes like lightning, clothing like white phosphorous burning . . . nuclear light looks dark in comparison.
This war is not fair! God haters are screaming, fleeing; violent love is pursuing into every nook and cranny. I’m begging God not to let me fall down outside - the temperature is hovering over 95, and I’m still 10 minutes away from my house trembling and shaking. Walking by neighbors who wave and smile, I want to shout like Pilgrim in Pilgrim’s Progress, “Don’t you know what’s coming?!”
I finally make it home and burst through the door. Carol can see that something has happened. “Jesus just sang me the Father’s Song!” I said. We are both on the same page, being spiritually revived to all God has for us in this day and hour. She couldn’t wait to hear. When I finished, she just said, “Go write it down.”
In this moment, I realize that it’s not time to be polite anymore; it’s not time to hope that people ‘get it.’ It is time to set aside every sin that besets us and contend for the faith. Iron the bridal gown, get out the combat boots, and suit up.
“Walk, Bride!”
--Ron Cantrell
