Who Are We?

Skip forward to the eve of the pandemic—that unprecedented phenomenon that caught the world off guard. We were out on prayer walks, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. People had long taken the "Sunday assembly" for granted, but God was about to show us something deeper.

During a prayer meeting, I had a vision as clear as the afternoon sun. I saw a church steeple, grand and imposing. Suddenly, the steeple began to topple. As it fell, a voice thundered in my spirit:

“Everything that is not pointing to Me is coming down.”

I was speechless. Shortly after, COVID-19 hit. The world shut down. The buildings were closed, the pews were empty, and the steeples were no longer the center of spiritual life. God was stripping away the tradition to reveal the Foundation.

The city of Waynesboro was locked tight under regulations, but the fire in our hearts wouldn’t go out. We wanted to gather. I applied for a permit for a tent meeting—a bold move, considering I didn't even own a tent. I had a vague promise from a friend who said he’d try to find one if the time ever came.

I told almost no one. For six months, the city sat on the application. We kept walking, kept praying, and kept checking in, only to hear "not yet."

It came down to the wire: eight days before the scheduled start date. We still had no permit, no tent, no worship teams, and no speakers. That morning, we decided to stop walking the city and start walking the specific field where we hoped to meet. We circled that grass like it was Jericho.

The moment my foot touched the sidewalk after our final prayer, the phone in my back pocket vibrated. It was a woman named Stephanie from the city office. “Mr. Adams, I’m calling to let you know your permit for the tent meetings in downtown Waynesboro has been approved.”

When I told an elder of the church, he said, “Mike, if this comes together in eight days, you’ll know it’s God.” I told him, “Brother, I already know.”

In one week, the Holy Spirit did what takes committees years to organize. Twenty preachers and ten worship ensembles stepped forward, hungry for connection. People were tired of being apart; they were ready to go "out into the wilderness" to meet their King.

As I prepared to speak that first night, the Lord spoke two things to my heart that changed my perspective forever:

1. “Do not withhold the gift of giving from the people.” I realized then that giving isn't a burden we ask of people; it’s a grace they get to participate in.

2. “What makes the net work is the network.” I looked out and saw the "network"—the Body of Christ. It wasn't about denominations, baptism styles, or whether people spoke in tongues. It was about tearing down walls.

The provision was miraculous. I didn't want to ask for money, and I didn't have to. Someone brought porta-potties. Someone brought lights. People gave so freely that we didn't just cover the costs—we raised enough to buy our own tent and sound equipment outright. God funded His own movement.

Since that first night on July 1st, we haven’t stopped. We took that tent to every city where I used to deliver bread—Waynesboro, Hot Springs, Harrisonburg—following the command to return to the places where seeds had been sown for years.

My business is simple: Show up and be present. Like Mary said at the wedding in Cana, “Do whatever He tells you.” I’ve seen the power of God on the streets of D.C. and in small-town fields. I’ve seen pastors weep because our arrival fulfilled a promise they’d been praying over for decades. When you stop trying to "construct" a ministry and simply step into the good works God prepared in advance, it becomes effortless. We aren't building a brand; we’re just the workmanship of a Living God who is still speaking, still connecting, and still moving on the Hill.”