I was in an empty classroom debating the merits of Christianity versus Islam with a college professor. He was a well-dressed man in his early forties, wearing tan dress pants and a white striped button shirt. He was quite knowledgeable and articulate. I let him speak for some time, and when he finished, I said: “But Christianity has one thing that Islam does not offer. The bodily resurrection.” The professor looked stunned, and I saw him pondering how to refute the statement. But he had nothing to say. I prayed my words would cause him to read the Bible and find his Savior.

I was looking down on what appeared to be a traditional Roman Catholic church and could hear a beautiful oratory of voices coming from inside. My heart was drawn towards it, and as I came down to listen, I saw a young worship leader standing on a stage with a peculiar-looking instrument. It was washed out grey and looked like a cross between an ancient stringed lute and a modern electric guitar. He began singing a contemporary worship song I had never heard before. I could feel the overwhelming presence of the Holy Spirit and began worshiping with him. I sensed that God was pleased with His people and was not dissuaded by their denominational affiliation.

I was in a classroom with about a dozen young adults late teens to mid-twenties, sharing the gospel of salvation and telling them about Jesus and His Kingdom. They all seemed uninterested, and when I pressed them about wanting a Savior, one young overweight man angrily stood up shouting, “You are trying to make Jesus my King.” I looked at him with compassion saying, “Don’t you want a Savior?” He and the others in the classroom wanted nothing to do with Jesus, so he stormed out.

I was invited to teach at a church. It was not a traditional building, more like an expansive home fellowship. Walking around wearing my prayer shawl and kippah, I saw groups assembling in different rooms, praying and worshiping, each room singing a different song. Some of the rooms were large, and others smaller and more intimate. I knew I was supposed to teach at some point and was anxious to begin.

I was driving on a broad highway, heading westward toward San Francisco. Piled up on both sides was debris from destroyed homes and industries. Even the bridges that crossed the road were covered with debris. The road began to narrow as the waste increased, eventually leaving just one lane. At the end of the road, I came to where they were shedding the garbage to haul it away and possibly recycle it. I then found myself standing with a small group of church members, loading documents and other objects onto a conveyor belt to be shredded. The pastor and associate pastor of the church and a few leaders looked at the useless things with sadness, pining over their loss. I stood beside them, comforting them in their time of loss.

My wife and I lived in what appeared to be a Colonial part of the country in a 1970s-era house. It was a single-story rambler, and the interior was outdated. We wanted to remodel and considered selling and building a new one.

I was sitting in the back of a church sanctuary. In front was a wide stage, and behind me was a wall of glass windows that looked out onto a lush and forested landscape. The shallow room appeared to seat around four to five hundred people. The décor was beige and dated. The pews were nearly all empty, except for a few people praying on their faces near the left side of the stage.

I awoke in the morning and, for a moment, saw a vision of a pure white lamb. It was young, maybe a year old, and had pure white fleece; it was brighter than fresh snow when the morning sun first illuminated it.

What does true divine unity look like within the church? That was the question I was teaching (in my dream) to a small group of people when I immediately heard the answer in my spirit. As I listened to the voice of the Lord, I shared this parable: Imagine yourself stranded in the middle of an arid desert with no water in sight. You would find yourself dehydrated and near death. This is the present condition of the church. Then the Lord would pour out His rain droplets to quench the land. This is what divine unity looks like to Him, for it unleashes His commanded blessing.

I was in a room with a small number of people. The Lord asked us questions, looking to see who could answer correctly. No one could answer. I thought deeply about the questions. At first, they seemed very confusing, like riddles. For example, several questions were: “What is a double hitter, or what is a front door greeter?” Suddenly, I began to understand the questions. They were about how pastors conduct their Sunday morning services.

I was in a bedroom with two other women standing there. One I recognized as a work-related acquaintance. They tried to interest me in getting a gift for my wife, showing me a catalog where I saw a pair of lovely slippers. She also wanted to get me to take an interest in lingerie for my wife, but nothing about that interested me.

Our country was in danger, and the Lord was leading me to climb a mountain of safety. A few others were following but seemed skeptical. I surveyed the steep terrain to my left, looking for a place to scramble up the black, chiseled, and weathered volcanic rock resembling Biotite Mica, also called Black Mica or Iron Mica.