In the middle of the funeral, the pastor shouted, “GOD SAID TO OPEN THE COFFIN”, mother got shocked!

A pastor tormented by a recurring nightmare interrupts a funeral and orders the coffin to be opened. When they decide to do as he says, everyone is shocked by what happens next.

On a silent and cold night, where the wind howled outside, Roger was immersed in a deep, peaceless sleep. His body squirmed under the sheets as he experienced a disturbing dream. His vision was confused and fragmented as if he were seeing scenes through a dark veil. He saw himself on a gloomy, creepy day at a bleak funeral, with the sky above him filled with gray clouds that threatened to collapse in rain. In front of him, several black coffins lay solitarily under a simple canopy, surrounded by a small group of people dressed in black and with white faces that made him shudder. No words were spoken, only sad looks and lowered heads filled the scene.

“No, no,” the man mumbled in his sleep, his body struggling against the mattress.

Inside one of the coffins, the sight was even more distressing. Roger saw a child, a little girl about 2 years old, lying pale as if she were fast asleep. Her features were serene, but on her chest, a flame glowed faintly, oscillating as if struggling to stay alight in the face of an invisible wind. Suddenly, the atmosphere changed, and the silence was broken by a strong, powerful, resounding voice that seemed to come from the heavens.

“Wake up!”

The voice echoed, shaking everything around, turning the dream into something even more real and urgently terrifying. Roger woke up instantly, jumping out of bed screaming, his heart beating wildly. Next to him, his wife Maryanne woke up, startled by the scream.

“Roger, what’s wrong, love?” she asked worriedly, sitting up and trying to calm him down. “Hey, hey, calm down. It was just a bad dream.”

The man was visibly stunned, gasping for breath. He pulled himself together and said, “I’m sorry, honey. I’m fine. It really was just a bad dream. Go back to sleep. I’ll get a glass of water and be right back,” Roger said, trying to disguise his terror. He got up and walked to the kitchen, still shaking. After drinking his water, not feeling calmer at all, he went into the living room. There, he picked up his Bible from the small coffee table, opened it to a random page, and began to read. The verses seemed to jump out at him, each word deeply touching his troubled soul. But he was still restless.

With the Bible still open on his lap, Roger knelt beside the sofa, put his hands together, and began to pray fervently. “Please, Lord, help me to understand your will. Why do I keep dreaming about this?” he prayed, his voice laced with emotion and fear.

The silence of the house was now filled only by the sound of his prayer and the occasional noise of the cars outside, driving in the early hours. The man was visibly shaken, trembling with fear as he searched for some sign or understanding of the disturbing dream that seemed more like a vision than a mere creation of his sleeping mind.

Roger was a devoted pastor, dedicated to his ministry for more than two decades. As a leader of a blessed congregation, he considered the members his own family, sharing with them both the joys and adversities of life. The church he led was a beacon of light in the community, a place where people sought comfort, guidance, and a feeling of belonging. Together with his wife Maryanne, the man shared a life of commitment and faith, although it was marked by the sadness of never being able to have children. Despite the pain it caused them, Roger always maintained the firm conviction that God had a greater purpose for them. He believed that his calling was to lead his congregation, helping to guide and support its members in the ways of faith. That’s why he did it so well.

Throughout his 20 years of ministry, the pastor has witnessed many miracles and faced countless trials. He has seen the power of faith in action, witnessed healings and conversions that have strengthened the belief of everyone around him. However, for the past few days, he had been plagued by a recurring disturbing dream that left him restless and confused.

In the dream, Roger found himself at a dark wake. Among the crowd of saddened faces, one of the black coffins caught his eye. Inside it lay a little girl, only about 2 years old, whose serene but cold expression contrasted with the mournful atmosphere. The most disturbing thing was a weak flame that glowed on her chest as if it was struggling to stay alight. Each time the pastor witnessed this scene, a powerful heavenly voice echoed, saying only, “Wake up!”

Roger woke up every time this powerful voice appeared, his heart racing and his mind turbulent. These dreams led him to spend sleepless nights searching the scriptures for some meaning or message that might be being conveyed. He leafed through the Bible, prayed fervently, yet the understanding of those visions continued to elude him, leaving him increasingly distressed, and the search for answers seemed fruitless.

But then one day, terrible news reached him and changed everything. One of the most beloved families in his congregation, the Martins, had suffered a devastating accident. Roger received the call on a cold, cloudy night, informing him that the couple, Jefferson and Karina, and their two children, Benjamin and Clara, had lost their lives in the tragedy. They were involved in a car accident, and unfortunately, no one came out alive. The community was in shock, and the man felt as if the ground itself was opening up under his feet.

The loss of the Martins family was a painful blow for everyone, and the pastor knew he had to find the answers, not just for himself, but to help his congregation through this time of immense pain. The church was in deep mourning, the air heavy with the weight of collective sadness. Roger, as a spiritual guide and leader, felt every whisper and every tear shed by his congregation as if they were his own. The family so dear to everyone was now down to memories and photographs, arranged delicately around the coffins on the altar.

Roger had known the couple for years, ever since they had joined the church as newlyweds. He had witnessed the birth of their children, celebrated with the community every milestone in their lives. Now, faced with immeasurable loss, he was forced to find words of consolation and hope to offer. On the day of the wake, the church was adorned with white flowers and candles that cast a soft light on the coffins. The congregation, dressed in black, joined together in silent mourning, interrupted only by the muffled sobs of those present. The man advanced slowly to the pulpit, his solemn expression reflecting the gravity of the moment.

“We begin this service in memory of the Martin family, who were so brutally taken from us. As we seek comfort in the presence of the Lord, we remember that in the midst of pain, there is still hope,” Roger began, his voice firm yet charged with emotion. He continued with a moving sermon about the promise of reunion in heaven, quoting passages that spoke of consolation and eternal peace.

After the ceremony in the church, the people made their way to the cemetery under a gray sky and a thin rain. But when he got there, Roger felt a chill run through his body. The gloomy atmosphere and the sight of the coffins being lowered into the graves brought back the dream that had been troubling him for days.

“It can’t be,” the man said to himself internally, the feeling of familiarity becoming almost oppressive.

The staff worked with respect and efficiency, lowering the two large coffins first and then the two smaller ones, destined for the innocent bodies of the children. The pastor watched the scene before him, panting. The image of the small coffins, in particular, evoked a deep sadness and an inexplicable sense of urgency.

“No, no, no,” he muttered almost inaudibly, as the reality of those disturbing dreams he’d had over the last few days began to intertwine with the scene before his eyes. Those dreams were about that day, about that funeral, about that family. He saw the sad faces of the people watching around the coffins, mourning that tragedy. The memory of the faint flame on the child’s chest in his dream resurfaced in his mind, provoking a mixture of fear and revelation.

As the coffins were finally positioned in their final places in the grave, Roger felt increasingly dazed, struggling to maintain his composure as a guide and comfort to all those who depended on his strength. The feeling that something was terribly wrong became almost unbearable, deeply marking the pastor as he faced one of the most difficult trials of his life.

Roger, with a heavy heart and agitated spirit, watched as the earth was thrown over the coffins of the Martins family. The gloomy sound of earth hitting wood resounded through the misty cemetery, like a perfect reflection of the turmoil in his soul. Every grain of earth that fell sounded like the nightmares that had haunted him for days. The pastor felt like he was living his own disturbing nightmare once again, only now every detail was painfully vivid and real. The heavy clouds above seemed to weep for the tragedy, pouring out thin, constant tears that mingled with those of the mourners.

Then the man, deeply immersed in his pain and confusion, raised his eyes and heart to the sky, searching for an answer, a sign that could make sense of the chaos he felt.

“God, tell me what I should do,” he whispered, his voice almost lost in the murmur of the rain.

It was then, in a moment of intense spiritual clarity, that the voice of God spoke to him, as real and powerful as the thunder that never echoed. The same instruction that had invaded his dreams now filled the air, vibrant and imperative

. Pushed by a force that transcended his understanding, Roger couldn’t stop himself. He lunged forward, interrupting the funeral process with a scream that cut through the cold, damp air.

“Stop! God told me to open the coffin.”

A shocked silence fell over the cemetery. The people present stopped, some with shovels still in their hands, all turning their incredulous gazes to the pastor. Murmurs of confusion and fear began to spread rapidly among the crowd. “What does he mean? Is he serious?” The whispered questions filled the air, mingling with the cold breeze that stirred the wet leaves of the trees.

Roger, however, remained unshaken as he made his way to Clara’s coffin. “Trust in God. He knows what he’s doing. Please open the coffin,” he insisted, his firm voice conveying an authority that only true faith can confer. His eyes, fixed on the coffin in front of him, shone with a mixture of fear and conviction.

The moment was critical, and everyone’s emotions oscillated between faith and skepticism. Some looked at the man as if he had lost his mind, while others, although hesitant, began to feel something divine and inexplicable simmering in the air. Roger, however, stood motionless beside the grave, the determination in his eyes reflecting an unshakable faith. He knew that despite the apparent madness of his request, he was following a greater purpose, a calling he couldn’t ignore. This was a moment of pure faith, where the invisible met the visible, and the pastor knew he had to be the intermediary between the two.

After receiving Roger’s unusual order, the grave diggers worked quickly to pull the coffin back to the surface. Then, with the help of a crowbar, they carefully opened the lid under the attentive and anxious gaze of everyone present. The air was filled with tension and expectation.

“Oh, dear God,” whispered the congregation when the coffin was opened. It revealed the angelic face of the 2-year-old girl, who seemed to be in a deep, peaceful sleep. Her serene features contrasted dramatically with the atmosphere of sadness and mourning that enveloped the place. The watching crowd remained silent, curious and fearful about what would happen next.

Roger, his heart pounding in his chest, approached and looked at Clara’s chest. Only he could see it, but there was the flame he always saw in his dreams, pulsing faintly as if it were struggling to stay alive. Taking a deep breath, he leaned over the coffin and, with reverent care, lifted the little girl into his arms. Holding her against his chest, the pastor uttered the words that had terrified him so much in his nights but which now seemed to carry a transforming power.

“Wake up,” he said, with a firm voice full of faith.

At the very moment his words echoed through the air, a resounding thunderclap ripped through the sky, causing everyone there to jump in fright. The thin rain that was falling intensified as if the sky itself was participating in that critical moment. Then the miracle happened. The little girl opened her eyes and started coughing as if her lungs were filling with fresh air and her life was being restored before everyone’s eyes.

“Good Lord!”

The cry of relief and joy replaced the sound of the rain as tears streamed down Roger’s face and those witnessing the event. The people around began to proclaim loudly, “It’s a miracle! It’s a miracle!”

The pastor, with tears of gratitude and admiration falling from his eyes, knelt down with the little girl still in his arms and raised his hands to heaven, thanking God for that moment of divine intervention.

“Thank you, Lord, for revealing your glory and power through her life,” he exclaimed as the surrounding congregation joined in praise and worship.

It then became clear that Roger’s disturbing dreams were a divine vision, a call to a greater purpose. Now Clara would need someone to take care of her since she had lost her entire family. The man, the instrument of the miracle, was the right person to take on this role. He was destined not only to be the pastor who had brought the little girl back to life but also to become a father to her, fulfilling a destiny set by the hands of God himself.

After the miracle that shook both the church and the local community, Roger and his wife Maryanne adopted the little girl, finally realizing their dream of becoming parents. The story of the little girl’s revival during the funeral spread quickly, becoming a living testimony to God’s faith and power among the faithful and even beyond the church walls. The community, which had witnessed the miracle, supported the couple’s decision with enthusiasm and affection. Clara was seen not only as a miracle but also as a symbol of hope and renewal for everyone who knew her story. Every day, her presence reaffirmed the faith of those around her.

Naturally, questions arose as to why God had chosen to resurrect only her and not the rest of the Martins family, including the little boy. These questions, sometimes loaded with pain and confusion, were difficult to face. Roger, in his wisdom and understanding of the mysteries of faith, always responded with kindness. “God’s purposes are His. Our responsibility is to trust, even when the road ahead is uncertain,” the pastor taught. Although we couldn’t understand every divine decision, every event had a reason in God’s great plan. He shared this message not only as a spiritual guide but now as a father, a role that gave him a new perspective on divine love and care.

The girl, for her part, grew up knowing that her life was an extraordinary gift, a chance granted by a greater power that many only dare to imagine. She became a shining light in the congregation, living proof that miracles really do exist and that faith has immeasurable power. Her smile was able to brighten the darkest of days, and her story was a constant reminder of infinite love and mercy.

Roger, with his faith always firm and intact, continued to lead his church along the sacred paths, now enriched by the experience of being a loving father. He loved his daughter and saw every day with her as a blessing. Over time, the girl learned about her extraordinary origins, and as she grew up, her gratitude and love for her adoptive parents and her church also grew. And so the life of that simple pastor and his family continued, intertwined with the congregation that supported them and with each member touched by the divine grace that had restored the life of a little girl and given hope to all of them.