It started with a storm.
Not the kind you see on Doppler radar, but the kind that creeps quietly into the soul—layer by layer, like dust in the Arizona wind.
It was Friday night, April 14th, 2023. A worship night was scheduled at South Valley Church, just off Baseline Road in Phoenix. The sanctuary, while modest, was packed. Folding chairs lined the aisles, lights dimmed low, and outside, thunder rolled somewhere far off, like a distant drumbeat warming up for something divine.
Among the worshippers sat Maya Thompson, 17 years old, a senior at Desert Vista High School. To most, she was just a quiet girl—good grades, introverted, barely spoke in class. But inside? Maya was drowning.
Her dad had left last year. Her mom worked two jobs and barely spoke more than three words a day. Her once-vibrant faith had dried up, and lately, her prayers felt more like texts sent to a dead phone number.
She didn’t come to worship that night because she believed.
She came because she was done.
When the band began playing, Maya stayed seated. People around her raised hands and sang, but she just stared forward, arms crossed, expression flat. Until the room went quiet.
A soft piano began. One note at a time.
Then the worship leader spoke:
“This next song is a declaration of who God is. Not what we feel. Not what we see. But truth. Eternal, holy, unshakable truth. Even when our world is falling apart.”
Then came the opening lyrics:
🎶 “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain…
Holy, holy is He…”
The moment the first line hit the air, something cracked.
Not a sound. A presence.
Maya blinked. It felt like the roof of the church had been torn away—not physically, but spiritually. One minute she was sitting in a crowded sanctuary in Phoenix, and the next—she was standing in something eternal.
A vision? A dream? A mercy?
She didn’t know. But what she saw—she’d never forget.
Before her stood a throne, surrounded by light like fire and crystal, with colors she had no name for. Around it were figures—some with wings, some with crowns—all worshiping, not out of obligation, but as if their entire being existed for this one act.
And in the center of it all—Jesus.
Not blond-haired and blue-eyed like in the paintings. No, this was Jesus in glory. A Lion in the face of a Lamb. Power wrapped in peace. Holiness so overwhelming, Maya fell to her knees, trembling, sobbing.
And the song continued:
🎶 “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty,
Who was and is and is to come…”
Suddenly, Maya saw her own heart—like a mirror shattered on the floor. Every sharp edge of doubt, pain, anger… and how He was gathering the pieces with hands marked by scars and glory.
She didn’t hear a voice, but she understood:
“You were never alone. Even in the silence, I was singing over you.”
Back in the sanctuary, she had fallen to her knees—others didn’t notice, caught up in their own worship. But in that moment, Heaven touched earth.
Maya stood—eyes still full of tears—and raised her hands for the first time in years.
Not because she had it all together.
Not because life had magically changed.
But because she had seen the King of Kings…
…and realized He saw her.
The Lesson
Sometimes we sing with joy.
Sometimes we sing with desperation.
And sometimes—Heaven sings back.
“Revelation Song” isn’t just lyrics—it’s a glimpse. A glimpse into eternity. A veil pulled back for the hurting, the hungry, the hopeless… to remind us:
God is still on the throne.
The Lamb has already won.
And the angels haven’t stopped singing.
We just need to listen.
Bible Verse
Revelation 4:8 (ESV)
“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!”
So the next time you hear that song, whether in a packed church or alone in your car, remember Maya. Remember the torn roof. And remember—
you’re not just singing a song.
You’re joining the choir of Heaven.
Amen.
Share this post