The Narrow Way

Everyone wants revival.
We pray for it.
Sing about it.
Post about it.

But heaven isn’t looking for the loudest room.
Heaven is looking for the emptiest altar.
The quiet, surrendered hearts that say,
“Let it begin in me.”

Not out there.
Not when the crowds come.
Not when the lights hit just right.
Right here.
Right now.
In the secret place.

Because revival doesn’t start in stadiums.
It starts in closets.
It starts when no one’s watching.
When you turn down the noise.
When you stop performing.
When you open the Word not for a sermon, not for a quote, but for communion.

Matthew 6:6 says,
“But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.”

That’s where it starts.
That’s where heaven draws close.
Not in the rush.
In the room with the door shut.

Where you weep without pretending.
Where you repent without fear.
Where you listen longer than you speak.
Where your heart breaks again for what breaks His.

Revival doesn’t begin with fire falling from the sky.
It begins when hearts become altars again.
When the Word pierces.
When conviction is welcomed.
When your soul says,
“If no one else returns to the feet of Jesus, let me be the first.”

And the beauty is,
God responds to that.

Not because you earned it.
But because He’s always been drawn to the humble, hidden place.

That’s where He revives dreams.
Revives callings.
Revives love.
Revives you.

And when you’ve been lit by something real in the secret,
you don’t need a stage to sustain it.
You walk into rooms carrying the glory.
Because revival isn’t something you attend,
it’s something you carry.

So go back to your room.
Back to the floor.
Back to the tears.
Back to the Bible that still stirs.
Back to the whisper that still breaks you.
And say again:

“Let it begin in me, Lord.
Let the fire fall,
right here, where no one sees but You.”

Because if it starts in secret,
it will never die in public.