In an article for Leadershipjournal.net, pastor Clark Cothern shares how a power outage at his church revealed the power of God:

Our church meets in a rented gym. We're looking for property and are eager to settle into a more permanent structure. Someday. For now we are navigating the path of being somewhat nomadic.

One Sunday in June, we experienced a few spotty rain showers. No high winds. No lightning. A very normal Sunday in the Midwest. We were two weeks away from a forced, six-week relocation, due to our facility's parking lot being repaved.

We planned to become much more "unplugged" as we used the smaller meeting space in a graciously cooperative nearby church. We were prepping our congregation and praying earnestly that the changes would turn into an opportunity for us to get to know God better. We knew we would be in for some unexpected teachable moments.

After the announcements, including the explanation of our upcoming change of location, and after some high-energy, electrically charged musical worship, we began our time of Communion.

As people formed two lines, making their way up the center aisle, Steve, our worship leader, played an appropriately worshipful song on the electric piano. Halfway through the song, and with half the congregation yet to reach the Communion elements, the lights went out. Instant silence. Well, almost. All you could hear were the piano keys thumping in rhythm to the song Steve had been playing. Steve grinned and stopped thumping.

Someone had to say something, so I said, "Isn't it good to know that God's power will be displayed whether or not we have electricity?" People chuckled and, realizing we could all still see well enough to continue, they continued coming forward to the table.

I began singing a praise song everyone knew. Within two measures everyone had joined in, voices only. Harmonies floated in the room from places where we normally didn't hear them. A sense of community enveloped the room. It was a holy moment.

What began as a fairly typical time of Communion in familiar surroundings was transformed into a unique time of worship and a supercharged awareness of God's presence.

When everyone had obtained their bread and juice and returned to their seats, I prayed, "Lord, thank you that your power is on display, especially when our power is gone. Continue to pour out your power as we look into your Word. Amen."

At that very instant—a nanosecond after "Amen"—the electricity came on again. Air conditioner compressors roared. Pop machine motors whirred. Sound system amplifiers hummed. And all the lights came on.

For a brief moment, everyone gasped. Then the entire congregation burst into laughter. I said, "Oh, now He's just showing off!" More laughter. Holy laughter. The kind of laughter when you know you've just seen God's power displayed along with his humor.

Looking back, I think God was showing us that our upcoming changes would be just fine. He was showing us that worship isn't about our preferences. We knew that no matter what the changes in our worship space, he would be there to meet us.