A story.
I don't know why I remembered this, but on Sunday I had a memory of Toronto. It was at least 15 years ago. Every Easter I would sit, packed into a 15 passenger van, traveling to the Fresh Wind Youth Conference.
It was awesome. Life changing, and that's not dramatic.
Back at the hotel, I can remember playing in elevators with friends. We would pretend to be from England, accents of course, and when someone would get in the elevator (which we rode all day), we would strike up a conversation in our Brit accents. It was hilarious. It was sickening (all the elevator stops).
The conference was full, thousands, literally, filling a building to worship Him. We were young and we were seeking, desperate to be touched by Him and brag to the others about what He'd done. I went back to public school one year and made an art project, a basketball hoop that read, Shoot for Jesus. Cheesy! I mean, laughable. I didn't even play basketball, but the girl next to me did. Beth Papperiella. I knew she grew up Catholic and I had hoped this would strike up a conversation about God. I remember it did and I felt...wait, I'm getting sidetracked.
The conference. David Ruis took the stage, followed by Heather Clark. I had never heard such deep lyrics that sang of a God who was friend and father. It was literally intoxicating. I didn't ever want to leave. Somewhere in the beginning, after a song, I remember the building erupting in claps and shouts. It was like the wildest football game just after a touchdown. Louder and louder it grew, until we resolved to sing again.
My hands smacked until red and tingly, and somewhere in the erupting I realized that this was epic.
Epic.
I had sang and clapped along with worship leaders all my sunday-schooled life, but I had a revelation in the midst of this roar.
IT WASN'T A SHOUT FOR THE PEOPLE ON STAGE.
IT WASN'T A CLAP FOR THE AWESOME SONG WE SANG.
IT WAS AN UNCONTROLLABLE HONOR TO THE ONE WE WERE SINGING FOR.
IT WAS PRAISE.
My eyes closed and I lifted my hands high, shouting as loud as my lungs could afford. Fear of man fell as my eyes locked on heaven and He gazed at me, loving Him.
"Yes, God! Yes! I am here, in this moment and I will shout because you are worthy. I may look like a fool to some, but my eyes are locked on you and I know that you are where my help comes from. Not here, not from mortal men, but from You. The creator of Heaven and Earth, you are here with me, right now, in the midst of my shout!"
Ever since those moments, it has been easy for me to close my eyes in worship and step into His presence. The only thing between you and Him, is you. Ha ha. Step aside and He will blow over you, a wind you have never felt before. And then the song is over, and it's time to shout. Fear of man, step aside! This isn't a shout for the people on stage anyway, it's a shout for the King. The one, Jesus. The one who is worthy. The one whom every knee will bow and every tongue will praise.
So there's my story. Maybe it's the way my heart yearns to see people worship, the way we were created to worship. Maybe it is this ferocious lion in me that hates when fear of man holds people from what God has for them. Maybe, this was just a memory.
Either way, cheers to you today. I'm so glad that you came here!
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