The worship service seemed to dissolve. I became aware of a small church on a broad rise, set in rolling countryside. A small crowd emerged from the south door, laughing together.

To the right, beneath the sun-bright sky, a gentle breeze wafted the scent of elderflowers from the verdant hedgerows. It was a perfect English day in May. But not on the left of the church . . .

Here all was grey and red and black – a stark and arid landscape of canyons and cliffs. A narrow lych-gate guarded its awkward entrance.

Was the Lord giving us a choice? For nine months since we’d put the farm on the market in 1989, we’d prayed for direction. “Lord, what do you want us to do?” We were willing to go anywhere―but where?

On the left side of the vision, a huge silver cross dominated the black sky. The choice was clear. “I must go the way of the cross,” I told the Lord. “But didn’t you promise to bless our choices? What about the right side?” Hanging in the right-hand sky was a tiny cross.

“Lord, I’ve chosen the left, but it looks bleak. Can you show me more?”

Zooming into the picture, I flew past rocks and gullies towards a vast black forest. As we neared, the forest became people gathered around a pimple of light. Closer still, the light became a blazing preaching platform―the people an immense, black crowd. Tropical trees surrounded the throng.

Beyond the trees, we approached another gully, down which I had to leap, and beyond that, a distant landscape of further adventures. “Thank you, Lord,” I said. “I’ve seen enough.”

Two weeks later, we received a call from Reinhard Bonnke’s team, Christ for all Nations, inviting us to be their international crusade directors.