Visualizing the Barn
The vision is for an actual barn. A raw, wooden barn filled with the raw power and presence of God. Occupied by people who are desperate for raw experiences with their Jesus. People who long to find an expression to who Jesus is and what Holy Ghost is saying and doing in our midst.
The barn will be people; a vibrating painter’s pallet. A canvas where the praise of the people is not just audible but is also visual. The expression can be seen even when the bodies leave the building.
The evidences of divine encounter linger in the form of scaffolding, wooden sets, saw dust, partial paintings, wet floors and broken strings. Stepping over artistic debris, people will muse with awe and wonder: “Whatever just happened in here was glorious.”
What is the opposing equivalent to a tornado’s wake? Or the devastation of a civilization the day after a tsunami? The aftermath of moments of unusual praise and encounters with the Lord of Hosts will be seen and as evidential as the broken bridges and foundations that earthquakes cause. There will be a visual residue of worship. Evidences of encounters.
Picture a room where images never before seen have been painted, on scales never thought of, through means literally unknown. Imagine a floor littered with crutches and braces no longer needed. Medication bottles in the trash. A collision of aromas that are perplexing yet the kind of which you simply can’t inhale enough. Trapeze still slightly swaying from the exposed beams high above.
We will be a worshiping community where people are not filed in straight lines but joyful participants in seemingly chaotic exuberance and expression.
Worship is developing so we can mature and so culture can be transformed through an encounter in the presence of their giddy God.
With the God who is even bigger than we say He is, it is my conviction that everyone should know whether or not He is among us.
We will be an offering.
He will be manifest.
We will become a prophetic community that releases the nature of God, the praises of God, the majesty of God, the creative beauty of God in unique and distinctive ways. Our physical tools of worship have changed from clapping hands to wood and canvas, brushes and saws, trapeze and dance, to an array of artistic means of which has never been seen before. Now all in one room.
Fire trucks once descended upon the building where hungry folks gathered during the Azusa Street revival because flames were seen on its roof. No fire there, just Presence. Once again a barn will buzz with the presence of God to a degree that it is physically noticed and reported throughout the area.
We will pulsate, alive with His pleasure and creative genius.
The pretty, polished, sensitive gatherings we have traded up to be like a barn: raw, unpolished, an instrument to be played, a shell practical for harvest and resembling the souls of those under its course rafters.
Why this barn?
Because we are responding to an invitation to thrash the creative ceiling over worship.
Because we come alive when our bones worship and cry out.
Because our only hope is through His touch.
Because the world awaits the rising and shining of those who have seen His face.
I’ve pushed all my chips to middle. Sold my house. Moved my family out and toward the promise.