She stood there on stage, microphone loosely dangling from her left hand. Her arms outstretched as she took a step back … and then back … until she left the spotlight completely. Her head slightly lifted upward and her gaze averted from the audience to the ceiling, eyes closing as they caught glimpses of the lights shining down, as if by engulfing herself in darkness instead, she could actually see more. She could see past the ceiling. Past the lights. Into the One she stopped singing for. Into the One she lifted her hands to. Into the One she walked out of the spotlight to be with. Completely relaxed and at ease, it’s almost as if thousands of hearts and faces weren’t watching her every move. Almost as if it was just her. Just her … and God.

Last weekend, I traveled to Indianapolis with my best friend to attend the Outcry Tour. They featured Elevation Worship, Kari Jobe, Jesus Culture, and Hillsong Worship -- Christian singers and bands known around the world. Yet, something was different about this concert. The atmosphere. The energy. The people. It was all … different. You see, in today’s culture, sold out shows typically feature those thirsty for fame. For popularity. For money. But the outcry tour? No. Every single person on stage last Saturday night was thirsty for so much more than fame, popularity and money could ever satisfy. They didn’t come for the thousands of people that would scream their name -- they came for the one person that would scream the name of God. They didn’t come for the thousands of people that would praise their talents -- they came for the one person that would praise the talents of God. They didn’t come for the thousands of people that would see what they can do on this stage -- they came for the one person that would see what God can do in this world.

For them, it’s not about approval or recognition. They don’t care if you walk away not singing their songs or humming their tunes. It won’t matter to them if you go and don’t immediately follow them on Instagram and Twitter. They wouldn’t even mind if you left and didn’t purchase their merchandise or albums. If you step outside of that arena with God on your mind, their hearts will be happy. I can see it in the way they sing. The way each note is hit with such passion and grace. The way each movement lifts itself up, raising arms, hands, and faces. The way each word is spoken with such appreciation and mercy. The way each lyric honors, conveying forgiveness, respect and admiration. The way each smile shows a deeper kind of gratification -- a deeper sense of joy. The way each individual performs for more than himself and for more than the audience. The lights are irrelevant. The screens are irrelevant. The props are irrelevant. They are irrelevant. This concert is about one thing and one thing alone: God.

That, to me, was the best part -- seeing the beauty of each and every person on that stage. Watching them sing from beyond their soul. Listening to them cry out to the Lord. Feeling the energy created through their love and the love of every other person in the stadium that night. God was there. With thousands of arms lifted high. With thousands of hearts open wide. With thousands of voices loud and clear. God was definitely there.

I walked into that arena last Saturday night and expected to listen to my favorite Christian bands. I left having heard only the words of God. The bands all took a step back … and then back … until they left the spotlight completely. Arms outstretched and eyes closed, they became the audience. They joined us in worship. Thousands of hearts and faces quit watching them and turned their eyes towards something else. Something bigger. Something better. With the love of the Lord flowing through every vein and into every note, each singer stopped singing. Each singer left the lights. Each singer walked away and left the stage empty. But it wasn’t empty. It wasn’t void. Oh, was it full of love! Of life! Of God.

I closed my eyes and raised my hands. The music was loud, but the microphone was silent. My body relaxed. My head fell. My smile grew. Breathing in and out, it was almost as if thousands of other people weren’t there with me. It’s almost as if thousands of other people weren’t filling up the space around me. It’s almost as if it was just me. Just me … and God.