Just Jesus

It wasn’t your typical church building. It was a shack planted in a dusty corner on the wrong side of a Texas town. The façade of multi-colored tin and the bars hanging on the windows weren’t exactly inviting, but we stepped through the creaky door onto old linoleum that had started to peel. Dingy, brown paneling covered the walls except for where it had begun to come loose. It wasn’t the white church with the tall steeple set on a lush, green hill. It was crude. Everything in it was crude.

The building wasn’t big to begin with, and the many pews that stretched from the back to the very front didn’t help. The space felt even smaller as people poured in hungry and ready for a move of God. They came with their emotional baggage and weren’t looking for entertainment. They were looking for Jesus.

I sat humbled in my seat as the amateur singers began the tracks on the iPad and made a joyful noise. None of it was polished, beautiful, or “church” as I’ve known it, but there was such a rich hunger like I’d never felt.

There was no beauty to behold except for that of our Lord, Jesus Christ. He entered the room in such a powerful way as the church began to praise and worship his name. Perfectly placed notes and majestic harmony was not what brought His presence. No, it was the hunger, the desperate need for God. I sat convicted to my core and asked God to forgive me for seeing church as something it is not.

There was no beauty to behold except for that of our Lord, Jesus Christ. He entered the room in such a powerful way as the church began to praise and worship his name.

Breana Henry

They didn’t need it to be pretty, perfect, or refined. They just needed Jesus.

No one received glory in that place except Him. I wept as the indescribable power of the Spirit of God moved in and began to work. When it was time for the altar call, the congregation stormed the front, pushing back pews to make more room for hungry souls. Children sought God just as fervently as adults. It was such an incredible reminder that God doesn’t need perfection. He steps into ashes and makes beauty. There was no room for pride in that place, just Jesus.

It was such an incredible reminder that God doesn’t need perfection. He steps into ashes and makes beauty. There was no room for pride in that place, just Jesus.

Breana Henry

Yet another church was nothing more than a large room. It was a blistering hot July, and there was no air conditioning. One, lone fan blew in vain. The preacher’s shirt began as a light orange color but only remained so for a few short minutes. It gradually shifted to a dark orange as the sweat soaked through. Although the place was stifling, lives were changed. Church is not about comfort, just Jesus.

In another church, the pastor played the drums as his 7-year-old son led worship. That boy sang with such love and conviction. He was young, but he knew how to worship God. It was sincere and pure. There were no pretenses. There was no show. It was worship to God from a sincere heart. Church is not about the music, just Jesus.

There were no pretenses. There was no show. It was worship to God from a sincere heart.

Breana Henry

In a children’s service, a little boy walked to the front, put his hands in the air, and, so simply and sweetly, received the gift of the Holy Ghost. Another little girl spoke softly to the Lord as tears ran down her small cheeks in His presence. What a beautiful sight. Children reaching for God, seeking his face, and loving Him for who He is. They don’t know all He can do for them. They haven’t had a chance to know Him yet as their healer, provider, way maker, or deliverer, just Jesus.

Nestled deep in the woods of El Salvador, sat another church. Four brick walls rose from the dirt, and only half of the space within those walls was covered by a roof. There were no doors or windows, only openings where they should have been. There was a small sound system set up, and the praise team sang beautifully to the Lord. I watched as tears rolled down their upturned faces in worship to the only one who was receiving their praise. When the service was over, a gentleman made his way to the front knelt down in the dirt, and cried out to God. I went to lay hands on others as they gathered. Many of them also fell to their knees to seek God. As I prayed for each of them, I thought about how dirty my clothes would get if I knelt that way. God spoke to me clearly and asked why I thought I was better than those people who had no concern for their clothes or pride, just Jesus.

I stopped praying for others and found a place in the back of the altar area to get down on my hands and knees in that dirt and ask God to forgive me for making church something it wasn’t. It’s not a fashion show. Who was I to think that I was too good to bow before such a Holy God regardless of the condition of the building? My grandfather told stories of the church he grew up in being nothing more than a foundation and wooden beams because they didn’t have the money to finish it. Church is not about the building, just Jesus.

Church is not a building, clothes, music, fellowship, or even a sermon. Church is a place where hurting people feel loved. It’s a place where prodigals can run back into loving arms. It’s a place where a sinner can see the glory of God and desire Him more than they desire the life they are living. It’s a place where God and God alone is to be glorified. It’s a place where people can find Jesus.

Church is not a building, clothes, music, fellowship, or even a sermon. Church is a place where hurting people feel loved.

Breana Henry

We can make church so dignified that we forget what it’s all about. There is a place for programs, strategies, and organization. A comfortable building, music played with excellence, looking our best, the fellowship, the programs, all of those things are wonderful, but we can not forget what it is truly all about. People don’t need refinement or perfection; they just need Jesus. If that’s all we have, then we have more than enough.