Tonight, I went to church.
Not to a building, not some sacred structure with stained glass and steeples, not to a room men deemed holy... I went somewhere higher. Tonight, I stepped, trembling, humble, and unworthy, near to the throne room of God. And because of His amazing grace and undying love, He did not turn me away.
There are moments when heaven leans low enough for earth to feel it. The air shifts. Not dramatically, not thunderous. Just quietly. The atmosphere grows heavy with something unseen yet undeniable, as if eternity itself has stepped into the room and all creation instinctively knows to bow.
The music stopped sounding like music. It sounded more like longing. Like thousands of years of human ache finally finding a voice. Voices rose together, imperfect, weary, seeking, holding to promise... and as they rose into the air, they became one sound. Not polished. Not rehearsed. Just real. A chorus not meant to impress one another, but one rising in hopes of delighting heaven. In singing praise to the only one worthy of such worship.
And all of the sudden, God reveals Himself, and in that moment, everything changes.
The room is still just a room, yet it is no longer ordinary. Time loosens its grip. Pride falls to its knees. Hearts that came guarded begin to open like flowers in the sun. You can feel it, that unmistakable nearness. Not emotion alone. Not atmosphere alone. Presence. His presence.
Some would say this makes no sense. Scripture already warned they would. “For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” They hear the testimony and call it exaggeration. They see tears and call it weakness. They watch worship and call it performance. But sadly, they do not know what they have not yet encountered.
Tonight, I watched souls unmistakably awaken. There is a holy moment when a person realizes their brokenness and does not run from God but toward Him. A moment when conviction is not condemnation but invitation; when the weight pressing on the heart is not judgment but mercy knocking from deep inside.
That happened tonight.
God moved through the room like a whisper only the soul can hear. He called people individually, personally, unmistakably. Not with thunder, not with spectacle, but with the quiet authority of the One who formed them before they ever took their first breath. And they felt it. They didn’t understand it yet. They couldn’t explain it. But they knew. They knew Someone was there. And once you know that, once you have stood in the awareness that the Creator of life sees you, wants you, calls you... nothing else in this world satisfies the same way again.
Tonight, I went to church. Not as habit. Not because of tradition. Not to check a box. I went to meet God. And He was there. Not distant. Not silent. Not hidden. He was there, ready to meet me where I stood. He was near my chair, around me on my feet, holding me at the altar. He lifted me, song after song. My heart began to beat faster, the tears began to flow. My arms and hands trembled. My voice cracked and I wept. Not broken. Not hurting. I wept in the presence of my Savior.
If you have never experienced this, if faith has always sounded strange, distant, or foolish to you, I promise that I understand. I once stood where you stand. But I tell you this as realistically as the breath that fills my lungs: God is more real than you or I. He is not an exaggeration of emotion or an idea of hope born from brokenness or desperation. He is a presence to be encountered. And when you meet Him, truly meet Him, you will realize that the thing you once thought to be foolish, was actually a humbling truth, revealed to you in a life-changing way.
God is nearer than you think and He is calling to you even now. Every sunrise that you experience is another opportunity that He provides for you to come home... to draw near. His hope is for your answer, your surrender. But He honors you. Even when we are foolish or don’t understand. He respects legal boundaries, all the while waiting patiently for your invitation to Him to draw near. With your surrender, He wants to show you that He is real, He is genuine, and He really is the only thing that matters.
If you haven’t experienced what another 2.3 billion people worldwide already know to be true, ask yourself why. Why haven’t you? Why are you not being included? Why have you never experienced the conviction of Christ? And if you have, and have refused to respond, you literally are playing with fire! You have everything to lose by ignoring this prodding.
In either instance, go to church. Not to a building or structure- to a place of prayer and worship that leaves you surrounded by the presence of God Himself. Go to question Him yourself. Ask Him to show and to prove Himself. Surrender your life to the Creator, the one to whom you already belong, and watch how life begins to unfold and change.
We just got home from worship and already we are counting the days until the next time we can all gather as a family in the presence of our Father. This is sacred. It’s all that really matters. And I am (literally) eternally grateful for His calling upon our lives and for His sacrifice that allows our inclusion in His eternal plan.
My prayers for His presence to be revealed to you and your acceptance of the invitation that He so graciously extends. Come home. Join our family. Accept life!
~ Devin
Devin Osborne
