“We’re going to Israel’s house.”
The sun was hot on my freshly burnt face and I could barely keep up with the fast pace of the group ahead of me.
I was tired. It was a tired that reached far beyond my physical body. My spirit was tired.
I saw a small opening of the valley up ahead that surrounded a small tin house. Waves of mountains paralleled with cliffs that led to the ocean. I found a seat under the tin covering. I was more thankful to be out of the Haitian heat and longed for a moment to rest my eyes.
Our group circled around while our new friend, Israel, took out a keyboard. I felt the tiny fingers of children behind me pulling the tips of my blonde hair. I knew it wouldn’t be long before rows of assorted braids and spit consume my head.
I closed my eyes as the first note played and tears streamed down my face at the sound of worship around me. A mixture of American and Haitian voices all being led by the sound of one keyboard and the Holy Spirit.
In that moment, Heaven met earth.
I’ve often heard of people using this expression but I never understood it until that moment. I looked around and was completely overwhelmed by the love of my Father. Every once of His love pressing down and surrounding a tired spirit. I was renewed in His presence and humbled in His glory.
No stage. No sound system. No microphones. No building.
Just a raw and organic encounter with a raw and organic Maker.
