“In Gibeon the Lord appeared to Solomon in a dream by night: and God said, Ask what I shall give thee.” – 1 Kings 3:5
That the ineffable, eternal Sovereign would traverse the veils of time and eternity to appear to Solomon—a man marred by sensual indulgence and prone to idolatrous compromise—is a testimony to the mysterious condescension of divine mercy. It unsettles the theological elite and embarrasses legalistic logic. For in a cosmos where men strive endlessly for sacred encounters through rigorous asceticism and rehearsed religiosity, the God of Abraham still chooses to appear uninvited, unpredicted, and often to the unqualified. If even Solomon—a prince of paradox and a monarch of many altars—could receive divine visitation, who then among mortals shall be disqualified?
It is this sacred irony that unseats human boastings and replaces merit with mercy. The Lord does not adhere to the predictable economy of reward and punishment; He moves according to the rhythm of compassion and sovereign election. Solomon’s record bore the ink of imperfection: a throne won by political manipulation, a womb born of scandal, and a heart entangled in romantic entanglements. Yet it was him—him—that the God of glory visited in the silence of a dream. As Psalm 115:3 declares, “But our God is in the heavens: He hath done whatsoever He hath pleased.”
This encounter was not merely ceremonial; it was existential. It was heaven’s interruption of man’s trajectory. It teaches that divine appearances are not always earned—they are sometimes bestowed. That should put every despondent believer on notice: You, who feel buried under the debris of past errors, are still on God’s radar. You, whose prayer life flickers like a dying candle, are still within the compass of His mercy. For it is written in Isaiah 57:15, “I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit.” The majestic God stoops low—not to crush—but to commune.
To those wrestling in obscurity, fasting in silence, or preaching into spiritual vacuums, the appearance of God may seem like a fantasy reserved for patriarchs. But I assure you: the era of divine encounters has not expired. Solomon’s dream is a prophetic pattern. The Lord still invades night seasons with whispers, corrects with visions, stirs with divine impressions, and reveals Himself in broken spaces. The visitation of God is not monopolized by apostles or prophets. It is democratized by hunger. As Apostle Michael Orokpo once said, “God is not looking for golden vessels, but for yielded ones.”
Solomon was not visited because he built the temple—he had not yet begun. He was not chosen because of moral excellence—his heart was still tethered to human weakness. He was visited because God, in His sovereign prerogative, deemed it so. What then shall we say of the orphan girl in Ayah who receives visions, or the widowed intercessor in Kaduna who dreams dreams of heaven? Shall we doubt them because they bear no title? Must the Lord take permission from bishops before He appears to broken men? As Job 33:14–15 states, “For God speaketh once, yea twice… In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men.”
And when He appears—oh, the majesty of it—He rewrites destinies. God’s appearance is a doorway to divine realignment. He did not just greet Solomon; He gave him a blank cheque. He offered wisdom, discernment, and honor—gifts that would shape empires. Likewise, when the Lord visits your midnight, expect not just a touch, but a transformation. As the revered revivalist Bishop Charles Agyinasare rightly said, “The presence of God is not a moment; it is a mantle.” You leave changed, reconfigured, and recommissioned. You can no longer go back to business as usual.
This, then, is the divine scandal of grace—that the Lord appears not only to saints but to seekers; not only to priests but to paupers; not only to fathers of faith, but to children of failure. Solomon’s encounter was a public rebuke to elitist spirituality. It announced to the earth that God’s face is not reserved for perfection, but for passion. If He appeared to a man whose lineage was born from adultery and bloodshed, then He can appear to a drunkard who has repented, a prostitute who has wept, a doubter who has believed again. For as Romans 9:15 echoes, “I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy.”
So here is my exhortation to the broken dreamer, the exhausted intercessor, the fallen prophet, the overlooked evangelist, and the silent worshipper: Heaven has not forgotten you. If the Lord appeared to Solomon, He can appear to you. If He bypassed temple gates and legal robes to meet a man in the intimacy of a dream, then your location, your past, or your reputation cannot hinder Him. Keep your spirit tender, your altar burning, and your expectation alive. For in this hour, the Lord is still appearing to the least expected, the least deserving, and the least likely.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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