I firmly believe that our current understanding of how God works has been misunderstood or misrepresented. There is a deeply ingrained belief that we must first clean ourselves up—shed our sins, fix our flaws, and attain a certain level of moral or spiritual perfection—before God will choose to move in our lives or show His power. However, I see echoes of a different time—particularly during the days of Jesus—when the religious systems of that era had become so hollow and superficial that they obscured the true essence of worship that comes from the heart. Jesus, in His ministry, often chose to operate outside the confines of the temple and religious institutions, ministering in fields, along lakesides, and outside the walls of Jerusalem. These were places where genuine worship was happening among people untouched by the empty rituals and hypocrisy that had infiltrated the religious establishment. It was in these humble, unassuming settings that authentic encounters with God often took place—places where the religious façade was thin or almost nonexistent. Since we began this journey together through the play, I’ve observed something truly remarkable: many of the people involved in the production are not typically part of the conventional, well-schooled church environment. Yet, I have sensed the powerful movement of the Spirit among them more strongly than I have in many years. Sometimes, it seems that when people are not weighed down by rote traditions, superficial correctness, or the pressure to conform, they are more open to genuine worship. When they focus on the act of worship itself rather than on performing it perfectly, something divine can break through. I’ve come to understand that the voice of the Shepherd calls us to a place where we must let go of our misplaced trust in religious systems—places that often promote superficiality and routine—and instead experience a supernatural freedom that only God can give. This freedom allows us to move beyond mere rituals and programs, which can easily become automatic and lose their meaning. I believe that Christianity risks becoming a series of mechanical actions—centered on physical objects, traditions, or human-made programs—that lack true life and Spirit. I’ve observed how life itself seems to echo the Shepherd’s voice; when we fail to recognize His guidance, we may miss divine opportunities—moments when He desires to reveal Himself in ways that are often unexpected. Strangely, God frequently manifests Himself in the margins—those quiet, overlooked corners of our lives where the noise of the world cannot drown out His voice. Reflecting on the passing of Whitney Houston, I was struck by how the response from the public uncovered something profound about human humility and grace. Despite her towering talent and fame, in her moments of vulnerability and apparent helplessness, there was a grace that surpassed many formal religious displays. Watching her funeral, I saw a level of reverence and humility that often seems absent from organized religion—a reminder that genuine worship and humility don’t always require elaborate rituals or grand settings. Sometimes, resisting hypocrisy—especially when it makes us feel imperfect or trapped in our struggles—is more meaningful than superficial rites. Grace, after all, has a quiet, powerful way of silencing the clamor and noise of the crowd. My pursuit remains to seek God— to truly find Him not just through what I’ve been taught or through religious traditions, but as He truly is. Like my very first encounter with the divine, I am encouraged to seek until I see Him clearly—moving from mere words about God to a direct, personal relationship with the Person Himself. Sadly, we have lost the artistic and heartfelt essence of religious expression. We have neglected the importance of continually seeking God and coming to Him just as we are, with honesty and humility. Instead, we lean heavily on rituals—believing that simply holding a cup, reciting a prayer, or listening to a sermon will somehow transform us from within. But this approach has distorted the true meaning of salvation, often excluding sinners and the broken from the core of worship. Yet, in this season, I have witnessed more authentic, heartfelt worship than ever before—many artists, some of whom have never even stepped inside a church building, are connecting deeply with the divine in ways that transcend traditional boundaries. I’ve seen how the Word of God can touch and transform those who have been told that life is just a series of actions leading inevitably to death. And I feel proud of the love that has been poured out during rehearsals, and of the presence of God that manifests in the purity of hearts untainted by hypocrisy and pretense. This journey has reaffirmed my belief that true worship is rooted in sincerity, humility, and an openness to divine encounter—beyond the rituals, beyond the superficial, and beyond the constraints of religious tradition. It’s about recognizing that God is always seeking us, often in the quiet, unexpected places, calling us to experience His love and freedom in its purest form.