A Symphony of Surrender

Lately, I’ve been in prayer over the many worship events happening in Hamilton, ON, and the surrounding areas. Over just eight weeks, we’re witnessing a powerful wave of gatherings: Every Heart Movement will lead worship at the Jesus Rally on July 25, 2025, followed by Let Us Worship with Sean Feucht in Toronto on July 27. Then, on August 9, there’s a Jesus Festival in Grimsby, and finally, Hamilton will host another Jesus Festival on September 5–6. God is clearly stirring hearts across Canada, and what we’re seeing is nothing short of a movement breaking forth.

As I was praying this evening, I had a bit of a vision and revelation from the Lord:

I could see that there’s a great tuning happening. Like instruments being strung and stretched before a symphony, God is aligning hearts—not just for songs to be sung, but for spirits to be in harmony with His. He is calling His people into rhythm with heaven. Into alignment with His heart.

I see tears beginning to form—not of sorrow, but cleansing. Memories are being healed, identity restored. Shame is falling off like old garments. People are learning to breathe again—deep, surrendered breaths in the presence of the King.

I see hearts being softened—stony ground breaking open with the first drops of grace. In hidden rooms, people kneel—not out of duty, but hunger. Some come with empty hands, unsure of what they need, but God is filling them with expectancy. Others come with heavy burdens, and the Lord is gently lifting the weight, one grief, one fear at a time.

There are worshipers who have been dry, leaders who have been discouraged, and believers who have grown distant—but God is reawakening their first love. I see Him gently placing His hand on chests, one by one, and with every touch, hearts begin to burn again—not with emotion, but with a holy longing.

And just before the deep worship begins, I see a hush fall across the field. A sacred stillness. Heaven leaning low. It’s as if all creation is holding its breath—not waiting for a performance, but for a people who are truly ready to behold Him.

Then the sound begins—not just music, but the unified cry of a people who have been made ready. It shakes the ground. It splits the sky. It’s not noise—it’s worship. True, holy, unhindered worship rising like incense.

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And in that moment, I knew—we are not just preparing for events; we are being prepared for encounter.

These gatherings are not about names on a flyer or stages being built. They are altars. Sacred spaces where the Bride is being awakened, refined, and readied for her Bridegroom. What’s coming is not man-made. It’s not hype. It’s holy.

So I keep praying—not just for crowds to gather, but for hearts to be changed. For heaven to meet earth in Hamilton, in Toronto, in Grimsby, and beyond. For the fire to fall—not on talent, but on surrender. Not on platforms, but on yielded hearts.

Because revival doesn’t begin with noise—it begins with kneeling. And I believe we are on the edge of a holy moment, a divine crescendo, where Jesus alone is magnified.

Let the worship rise. Let the people come. And may we be found ready.