A photo from last year popped up on my phone recently.

Last November, I was in Dallas speaking at a worship conference. While I was there, I said something that I later shared on social media:

“Every time we gather, we should expect an encounter.”

A year later, there it was again - you know how Google Photos will show you images from a year ago? I digress.

And as I read them, I realized something.

I still believe what I said. But I don't think I mean quite the same thing anymore.

At the time, I was thinking about those remarkable moments we have with the Lord. Moments when His presence seems so tangible. Moments that mark us, change us, sometimes for the rest of our lives.

I wanted everyone to know that those encounters were possible every time we gathered.

And when they didn't happen, well, we would keep contending for more.

I still want those moments. I still believe we can expect God to do extraordinary things.

But something has been changing in the way I see encounter.

I think I was defining encounter by what happened, rather than Who I was meeting.

Think about it.

If a friend invites me to his house, I expect to encounter him when I get there.

I expect to see him, talk with him, look him in the eyes, and simply be with him.

Some visits might be profound. We might have a conversation that changes my life.

Other times, we might just sit on the couch and watch TV.

But I wouldn't leave his house saying I hadn't encountered him because nothing extraordinary happened.

I was with him.

And then I started thinking about what it would feel like to be on the other side.

Imagine someone comes to visit me, and every time they leave, all they talk about is what they received.

"He paid for dinner."

"He gave me a check."

"He bought me a car."

"He made me feel amazing."

Now, those are all wonderful things. And I might have been delighted to give them.

But if that's all they ever talked about, I think eventually I'd begin to wonder whether they actually wanted to be with me, or just wanted what I could give them.

Now imagine my child comes over for lunch.

Someone asks, "How was lunch with your dad?"

"It was great!"

"Oh yeah? What did you do?"

"Nothing much. We just hung out. Had lunch. Talked. It was really good."

No extraordinary event. No gift to show for it.

"I just wanted to be with Dad."

There's something so beautiful about that.

The relationship itself was enough.

And I wonder if sometimes, even in our genuine hunger for more of God, we can become so focused on what happens in His presence that we overlook the joy of simply being with Him.

We talk about what we felt. What we received. How we were healed, changed, encouraged, or blessed.

And those are wonderful things. They're worth celebrating.

But what if the greatest thing about being in His presence isn't what happens to us?

What if it's simply that we're with Him?

I'm beginning to see how much changes when we look at things through a relational lens rather than a legalistic one.

The same words begin to mean something different.

If encounter is an experience, then no, I can't guarantee it. I can't manufacture it. I can't make something extraordinary happen every time we gather.

But if encounter is meeting with a Person, that's different.

And I think this is what worship is really about.

An intentional turning aside.

A moment when we stop what we're doing and give Him our attention.

Not because that's when God arrives. Not because the music somehow brings Him into the room.

But because He is already here.

Emmanuel. God with us.

And perhaps there's a beautiful freedom in that.

We can still hunger for healing, miracles, revelation, and all those extraordinary moments with Him.

But we don't have to make those experiences the measure of whether we've encountered Him.

We can simply enjoy being with Him.

The experience may be extraordinary or ordinary.

The Person never is.

And so, a year later, I look at that photograph and find myself saying exactly the same thing.

Only now, it means something different.

Every time we gather, we should expect an encounter.

Not because something extraordinary is guaranteed to happen.

But because Someone extraordinary is already with us.

See you next Friday.

Would love it if you could tell someone about this, or forward this newsletter on… and thanks to those of you who already do (😉)