It was the last scene in my dream. It was a brief moment, but striking one.

A man was perched on a huge rock by a lake/ocean with an instrument. He was playing music with his wife next to him. His instrument didn't look like one, but sounded like a violin. The notes were extravagantly joyous and high.

I cognitively knew that they were in Korea. Missionaries I think they were.

But they were just playing music. It wasn't even recognizable worship music - it was the pure sound of a violin at its melodious height of glory.

I don't know why they were in Korea or why they were in that forest area, but this is an image I'll carry as I think of "missionaries" - men and women who are like trees planted by waters, joyously making music in the deepest ends of the earth. Even though there are few who can initially decipher their songs, men and women whose faithful lives are seen, heard and used by God.

Thankful for a God who is faithful - I have a feeling there are greater stories yet to come.