Tonight I watched and listened as the sounds of worship permeated the air, I saw the air physically change color. The worship was gold as it left people’s mouths. As it lingered in the atmosphere of the room, the air began to develop a misty, pinkish color. Earlier it had been a pale green with a brightness to it. Worship was changing the rooms air. I could feel the weightiness of His presence. As I rested my hands over my heart, I could feel the changes of sounds breaking forth. Of feelings unable to contain the desire of the Godhead working to move in to the room.

That was my experience as I was there for a regional night of worship.

I could see the sounds of the guitar, the keyboard, the drums and the base. With each not struck the ground responded. Initially, I felt the inflexibility of the ground. But as the music progressed the ground began to “bounce”. Giving under my feet. It became spongy as soil might with water poured on it. The walls of the building initially shook, but by the second song there was a quivering and soon they too began to pulse.

As I walked out to the parking lot there was a pink mist that “followed” me swirling up into the sky. As I watched it move northward, I saw it become wispy. But soon there was another stream.

Last week, I lay on my couch and contemplated the proximity of heavenly atmosphere. I felt the ability to reach in and reach out of the heavenly realm. It never felt like a “wall” or even what I would describe as a dimension. It was more than that. Like fish swimming before you as you sat in front of a large aquarium’s wall, the realm of heaven had flashes, lights and the movement of people as they passed.

I spent an hour or so. Just watching the activities of heaven. I could reach in. And pull out. I could stick my head in, expecting a resistance or a pressure.

Tonight I thought I am feeling it. I am seeing it. It is not that God has moved heaven closer to me, but that I have become more aware of it’s proximity.

Revelation. The revealing or uncovering of something that was always there. (If heaven is timeless, it was there, is now and ever shall be.)

As I drove home I saw lights moving across the sky as if thousands of fireflies had been unleashed. But it was not the soft, phosphorous look of a bug, but a shiny, metallic light, that flittered and fluttered.

I sense a mountain falling into the sea. Explosions of goodness.

They are always there. They always will be. Chiros moments are the unveiling of the obvious for those who see. Who allow themselves to see.

Open your eyes. See all that is here. Embrace it. Allow it. Partake in and of it.