At The Prayer Room, anyone who can play a few chords and is willing pretty quickly becomes a worship leader. That’s the nature of a small house of prayer. Many of us are in that boat, including me. Others… WOW. One guy in particular is crazy talented. Like, dang. He’s basically TPR’s Matt Gilman. I would confidently throw him up on a Onething conference stage in front of 30,000 people and he would rock the house no problem.
And yet, day after day he’s playing and singing in an empty room in a rented church in Arlington, Texas.
One day while I was in his set (I was literally ushering an empty room) I was blown away by this picture of hiddenness. He wasn’t holding back or singing halfheartedly because his audience was lacking. He wasn’t singing for any audience but One. As God started showing me what He sees in this moment, I almost felt like I was intruding on something private and sacred.
The great heavenly chorus of “HOLY HOLY HOLY” pales in comparison to the way one human voice lifted in an empty room captivates Jesus’ heart.
There really is such a beauty in hiddenness. There’s a purity in undistracted worship–in secret faithfulness.
“And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”
(Matthew 6:4, 6, 18)
It reminds me of David’s years of preparation, singing to the Lord alone while watching his father’s sheep. I think God cherished those songs even more than He did the songs that came out of David’s amply-staffed 24/7 tabernacle later on.
And of course, it reminds me even more of Jesus–who was in the very form of God yet emptied Himself to take the form of a servant. (Philippians 2:5-11) He hid his own glory so thoroughly for 33 years–and especially for the first 30 before His ministry began. Even today, He hides Himself. He who will one day split the sky and appear in the clouds like lightning flashing from the east to the west (Isaiah 64:1, Matthew 24:27-30) goes unnoticed and unconsidered by billions of people every single day.
Many of us feel hidden right now. Many of us feel like we have something to offer, and we’re stuck in a back corner somewhere, because it’s not our season yet.
Guess what. If you love Jesus well in the corner, He’ll treasure it forever. He may have been the one who put you there. Maybe He wants your undistracted gaze just a little while longer. It’s a beautiful thing to be alone in an empty room singing to Jesus. All the best leaders in history did their time in obscurity… and many of the most faithful ones, whose names we’ll never know until heaven, spent their whole lives in hiddenness. What kind of glory are they swimming in now?
Holy hiddenness is a beautiful thing, because you can lock your heart fully on Jesus and know He’s the one who hears your song. He’s the one who counts your secret faithfulness as a personal offering of love. It doesn’t matter whether anyone else ever sees you. He sees, and He loves every moment.
I do want to especially highlight that last happening. 
