In the words of Demos Shakarian
In 1952 God told me to start a Fellowship for men who would meet in small and large groups in cafes, hotels and public places to fellowship and minister spiritually one to another. To attempt to accomplish this, we organized a group and met in Clifton's Cafeteria in Los Angeles every week for a whole year. Interest and attendance was so small that it appeared that we would be forced to give up a ministry I was sure God called me to do. God was so good and gave me a vision in my home while I was on my knees the night before I was going to stop the meetings.
God said to me, "I am the One, Demos, who alone can open doors. I am the One who removes the beam from unseeing eyes."
"I understand, Lord Jesus. And I thank You."
"And now I will let you see, indeed."
With that the Lord allowed me to rise to my knees. Lifted me almost, as though the power which had pressed me to the floor was now bearing me up. And at that moment, Rose, my wife came into the living room. She stepped around me and walked over to the Hammond organ in the corner. She said not a word, but sat down and began to play.
As the music swelled through the living room, the atmosphere grew brighter. To my amazement the ceiling seemed to have disappeared. The cream-colored plaster, the ceiling light - they were simply gone, and instead I found myself staring up into the sky, a daytime sky although it must have been pitch dark. How long she played while I gazed into the infinite distance I don't know. But all at once she stopped, fingers still resting on the keys, and began to pray aloud in tongues. She paused a moment, then spoke in English:
"My son. I knew you before you were born. I have guided you every step of the way. Now I am going to show you the purpose of your life."
It was the Spirit's gifts of tongues and interpretation, given together. And as she spoke a remarkable thing began to happen. Although I was on my knees, I felt as if I were rising. Leaving my body. Moving up, away from the living room. Down below me I could see the rooftops of Downey, California. There were the San Bernardino Mountains, and over there the coast of the Pacific Ocean. Now I was high above the earth, able to see from the west to the east.
Whether the world was turning, or whether I was traveling around it, I do not know. But now beneath me the continent of South America. Then Africa. Europe. Asia. I could see people on the earth - millions and millions of them standing shoulder to shoulder. Then, just as a camera can zoom in at a football game to show first the stadium, then the players, then the very laces on the football, my vision seemed to move in on the millions of men, I could see tiny details of thousands and thousands of faces. Everywhere it was the same.. Brown faces, black faces, white faces - every one rigid, wretched, every one locked in his own private death.
"Lord!" I cried. "What is the matter with them? Lord, help them!"
Afterward Rose told me that I said nothing. But in the vision it seemed to me that I wept and pleaded aloud.
Suddenly Rose began to speak. Humanly speaking, of Course, she had no way of knowing that I was seeing anything at all. But what she said was:
"My son, what you see next is going to happen soon."The earth was turning - or I was moving around it - a second time. Below me again were millions upon millions of men. But what a difference! This time heads were raised. Eyes shone with joy. Hands were lifted towards heaven. These men who had been isolated, each in his prison of self were linked in a community of love and adoration. Asia. Africa. America - everywhere death had turned to life. And then the vision was over.