MK Gantt Ministries

Where the angels see
You are praised as You should be
But how can I express
My yearning for Your Holiness
May it be
That I will open up my heart
Search me in the deepest part
And I will stand in cleansing fire
By You, purified
By You I’m purified

Michael W. Smith/Deborah D. Smith

For many years now, my car has been my Tabernacle. It is a place of refuge where I can meet with God. I worship. I meditate. I formulate sermons, asking the Holy Spirit to be my wordsmith. I weep because of my sins and I laugh because of His grace and I smile in gratitude for His friendship. 

Today, as I have done so many times before, I got in my car, rolled up the windows and turned on the AC, connected my phone to the stereo system and drove. My destination was uncertain and unimportant –– you wouldn’t be able to find it on a map and there are no road signs marking the way. My destination was not up the road or over the river. I needed to be alone with Him. 

I envy Moses. Imagine climbing to the top of Mt. Sanai through a thick dark cloud as lightning flashes and the thunderings of the voice of God causing the ground beneath his feet to tremble. There, hidden from the eyes of men, Moses meets with God. I don’t know what that might have looked like and I can’t imagine what it felt like to find oneself in a place where no other man is permitted to walk; to see things that no other human is permitted to see . . . and live.

In my mind’s eye I watch as Moses walks to the outskirts of the encampment to deploy a small tent. When finished, the old man crawls on hand and knee into the makeshift tabernacle and sits facing the door . . . waiting. After some time, the pillar of cloud settles down before the door of the tent and as it is recorded in the book of Exodus, God speaks to Moses “face to face as one might speak to a friend.”

I have made it no secret and I have often articulated a desire that took root in my heart many years ago. Of all the spiritual experiences that men celebrate, write about, even brag about – I have hungered for God to sit with me and speak to me face to face, as one might speak to a friend. I even wrote about it some years ago in a piece I titled: A Tent of Meeting.

O God, my God, it is this I desire – a tent of meeting with You. A place where I can remove myself from the influence of others, from the cacophony of noise we foolishly call worship which is no worship because it’s not for You at all, it is but for us.  O that we would learn that to truly hear God one does not organize a meeting in a tent – but pitches a tent of meeting.  

I do not hunger for a place where many gather to excite one another; oohing and ahhing over things which may or may not be of You, but a place where no one else is allowed to be but You and me.  A place where I can truly hear Your voice, absent the clanging brass cymbals who claim to be the voice of God but say nothing.  A place where there is no temptation or opportunity to merchandise the Words that you speak, nor any crass self-promotion, and most of all, a place where there is no need to craft some new and improved doctrine or manifestation to further justify “my” ministry. I am so weary of the dancing and singing around the golden calf we have built; the false religion that has been insidiously inserted into the place of the true worship of the True God.  We leap upon the altars of our own making, crying for more and greater “manifestations” while we hiss and growl at anyone who pleads for truth and reverence – and righteousness.

O God, my God,  it is this I desire – a tent of meeting with You. A place where I can shamelessly cast myself upon the rock of Your Word and be broken there; allowing you to tenderly wipe away the shattered pieces of my flesh, and just be me.  For I have found O God, that it is only with You that I feel safe to be me. No pretense, no flowery speech, no impressive dialogue, and certainly no straining at theological gnats and absolutely no need to be right. I am often so fearful of men that I wear the Pharisee’s mask so no one will know the broken man I am.  Yet, I know there must be a place that is a secret shared only with you where realizing that You can see through it anyway, I cast off my hypocrite’s mask and stand before you open and unguarded.

O God, my God,  it is this I desire – a tent of meeting with You.  I have walked this way for 50 years and I no longer hunger for recognition and have no desire to erect monuments. O God, I no longer require some great manifestation of your power to convince me that You are there. I know you are there and I know you love me.  What I hunger for is a place where I can go with You where we can be alone; a place where You will stand before my tent and speak with me; a place from which I can return with a face that glows from being in Your presence and it will be o.k. when the glow begins to fade. I will have no need to cover my face with a cloth to conceal its dimming – because there will always be that special place; that tent of meeting that is just for You and me.

O God, my God, it is this I desire – a tent of meeting with You.

As the words to Michael and Deborah Smith’s worship tune Purified filled up my “tent of meeting,” which these days is a little silver Camry, I bathed in His Presence. There were no rumblings of thunder or flashes of lightning, no cloud sat down on the hood of my hybrid, and I’m pretty sure my face wasn’t glowing as I pulled into the driveway. No profound revelations came, no new mission assignment, nothing I need to talk about or brag about . . . but I sensed his presence as one might enjoy the presence of a friend. It may just be me, but I’ll take that over being in a crowd any day. 

“May it be that I will open up my heart. . . search me in the deepest part and I will stand in cleansing fire by you, purified; By you, I’m purified.”