Supernatural Vision That Started Destiny Image

Destiny Image Publishers didn’t start with any corporate funding.

It wasn’t founded by a successful businessman with a foolproof business plan and millions of dollars in venture capital. It was started by a man who heard from the Lord and his “Yes” response. That man was me.

“No One Cares About My Heart”

At this time, I was co-pastor of a vibrant, growing church in Southcentral Pennsylvania. I also worked in the advertising and sales department of a local newspaper; so on this particular August day in 1982, I was on my way to meet a client.

While driving to my destination, the Presence of the Lord filled my car. It was awesome and intense. The Lord’s Presence was so great. I was so astounded by it that He had my full attention! In fact, the burden of the Lord was so heavy that I had to pull my car off to the side of the highway and stop.

The next four hours were filled with the most vibrant manifestations of God’s Presence that I had ever felt. Almost as if I were watching projected slides, the Lord revealed visions of a publishing ministry to me.

The heavens opened to me as I sat in my car. A spirit of praise welled up from deep within me, and it was magnificent. It seemed as if I was joining with the heavenly choirs as I sang glory to the Lord Most High. I could sense that the heavens were alive with the joy of the Lord and with an eager anticipation of fellowship and worship that spilled into my car and all over me.

During this special time of glory, God spoke to me. “I have much to say to this generation, but nobody cares. Nobody seems to know that I have much to say.” His voice was filled with an obvious pain as He continued, “No one cares about My heart. No one cares about My heart.”

As the Lord spoke, I saw another vision. He was in a great room that buzzed with a tremendous flurry of activity. Although I had never been to a trade show of any kind at that point in my life, I knew that I was seeing a Christian book trade show. Buyers were scurrying throughout the displays. Sellers were hawking their wares loudly. Everyone was too busy to notice the Lord and me walking among them.

“Look at them,” the Lord said. “They are all so busy. They all think they are doing My work, building My kingdom, but none of them care about My heart. None care about My purposes. No one wants to know what I am doing in the land.”

The Lord paused as if to let His words sink into my heart, then He continued, “They are building their own kingdoms, securing their own place in the market. None care about My heart.”

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I looked up to the Lord and cried, “I care about Your heart! I care about what You have to say! You know that I treasure Your words. You know that I melt at the sound of Your voice!”

There was no answer. It was as if the Lord hadn’t heard my cry. The vision of the convention floor began to fade, and the images of people hurrying to and fro slowly faded out of sight like smoke blown by the wind.

“I Am Looking for a Prophet”

However, a new vision replaced the one that was fading away. This time, I found myself looking into a small, cluttered room. I saw an editor sitting at a desk in the center of that room. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he wore a visor on his brow to shield his eyes from the glare of the fluorescent lighting. The editor was busily working on a manuscript, changing words, correcting spelling errors, and muttering quietly.

Slowly, the door to the editor’s office swung open, and a man who was wearing a long, flowing robe walked in. This man was carrying a very large stack of paper. Immediately, I knew that he was a prophet. Quietly and respectfully, the prophet walked slowly toward the editor’s desk as his sandals flapped softly with his every step.

Without a word, the prophet placed his tome in front of the editor, bowing low as he backed away from the desk. Then he stood nervously, pulling at his long beard, as the editor put aside what he was doing and reached for the prophet’s book. Without once looking at or addressing the prophet, the editor went to work on the manuscript.

Mumbling to himself, the editor began to scratch out large portions of the text with his pen saying, “No one wants to hear this!” Occasionally, he even crumpled up entire sheets and threw them away, saying, “You can’t say that and get away with it!”

The prophet stood silently as the editor worked. The editor paused, took a deep breath, removed his glasses, and looked at the prophet. “Don’t you get it?” he asked the prophet. “You have to tell the people what they want to hear. You make it look a bit radical, but in the last analysis, you have to tell the believer what he wants to hear—if you are going to sell books.” He then shook his head in frustration and went back to work.

The prophet didn’t respond. He lowered his head submissively and silently cringed as the editor dismantled the message God had given to him.

In my heart I knew that the prophet was willing to do anything to get his work published, even if it meant compromising the message. The voice of the Lord rang with indignation as He spoke these words to me: “It is an abomination for My prophets to submit their words to mere mortal men.” As He uttered the last three words, I could sense that their taste in His mouth seemed bitter to Him.

He then spoke to my heart once more, “I am looking for a prophet to publish the prophets.”

In the heat of that early afternoon as I sat in my car along Interstate 81, I cried out to the Lord: “I care about what You have to say!” Without quite knowing the full importance of what He had told me, I said, “I’ll do it! I’ll publish the prophets! I care about Your heart! I’ll do it!”

To be truthful, I did not realize who or what I was at that time of my life. When the Lord said He was looking for a prophet, I offered to find one for Him. But it did not take long for me to understand that God was referring to me.

Once again without response, like smoke being blown by the wind, the vision faded. The sound of angelic choirs, heavenly anticipation, and the overflowing joy of the Lord was gone, leaving me alone in my car. All was quiet except for the dull hum of cars and trucks speeding by on the highway.

I was alone. For a moment, I simply sat in awe at what had just happened, but the abrupt end of the visions troubled me. “Did I say something wrong?” Silence. “Did I say something out of order?” Silence again.

“Guard My Word as Silver and Your Integrity as Gold”

I continued to sit alone in my car, pondering my next move. Had it all been a dream? Was it a hallucination? Perhaps it had merely been the product of my overactive imagination. All of these thoughts were bombarding me when, all of a sudden, the heavens opened to me once again!

The glory of ageless wonder and magnificence enveloped me, and music that went beyond being beautiful once again flowed into my spirit. God spoke to me, “If you will guard My Word as silver, and your integrity as gold, I will cause you to publish My prophets.” It was His deep, resonant voice speaking to my heart. He continued, “I will cause you to be to this generation what I intended another to be before you.” My only response to Him, “Yes, Lord. Whatever you want, I will do it.”