This Is Only the Beginning: Celebrating Pentecost at King’s Together

By Dylan Verdun Sullivan
Wow, what a way to close out my Sunday night with Bianca and I attending the King’s Together event at the Gold Coast Turf Club in Bundall here on the Gold Coast.
King’s Together is a special Sunday where all the King’s campuses gather together in one location as one church. Inspired by the Scriptures where believers gathered together in one place and in one accord, the entire night carried this beautiful sense of unity, worship, and shared vision.
Different locations.
One heart.
And Jesus being glorified above everything else.
As I stood there tonight worshipping the living King, I genuinely felt the Lord speaking both corporately and personally into my spirit.
And what I felt so strongly was this:
This is only the beginning of what God is going to do.
That sentence landed deeply inside me tonight because if I am honest, I carry a real hunger for revival.
Not hype.
Not emotionalism.
Not people chasing experiences for the sake of experiences.
I mean genuine revival.
The kind where the Gospel pushes back darkness.
The kind where hearts genuinely repent.
The kind where addictions break.
Families are restored.
People encounter Jesus in a way that permanently changes the direction of their lives.
As I sit here tonight reflecting on everything, I realise something stirred deeply in me again.
Something that honestly has probably always been there.
A longing to see God move powerfully again in this generation.
I want to see God pour his spirit out.
There was something incredibly powerful about seeing people from different campuses gathering together with one focus.
Not personalities.
Not platforms.
Not performance.
Jesus.
And maybe that is what impacted me most tonight.
Everything pointed back to Christ.
In a world that constantly pulls attention toward self, success, image, branding, politics, outrage, and noise, there is something deeply refreshing about standing in an atmosphere where Jesus alone is being lifted high.
And honestly, I think people are starving for that.
The older I get, the more I realise people are exhausted.
Not just physically.
Spiritually.
Emotionally.
Mentally.
People are carrying enormous pressure everywhere they go.
You can see it in their eyes sometimes.
Anxiety.
Confusion.
Fear.
Loneliness and sadness.
battles that they face in the darkness of there own minds.
People smiling externally while internally carrying battles nobody else fully sees.
I think working at Gold Coast University Hospital has opened my eyes to that even more lately.
You see how fragile people really are.
How quickly life can shift.
How deeply human beings need hope.
Real hope.
Not temporary distraction.
Not another motivational quote.
Hope strong enough to hold someone together when life starts crushing them emotionally.
And that is why I remain so passionate about the Gospel.
Because I genuinely believe Jesus is still the answer.
Not figuratively.
Literally.
I believe Christ still changes lives.
I believe the Holy Spirit still heals hearts.
I believe God still pulls people out of darkness.
And tonight while worship was happening, something inside me kept thinking:
Lord, do it again.
Do it again on the Gold Coast.
Do it again in Australia.
Do it again in this generation.
There are moments during worship where something shifts beyond songs and lights and crowds.
Moments where you suddenly become deeply aware that God is present.
Not emotionally manufactured.
Not crowd psychology.
Presence.
And today I felt that strongly.
As voices lifted together across the room worshipping Jesus, I found myself overwhelmed by the thought that Heaven will one day look something like this.
People from different stories.
Different backgrounds.
Different struggles.
Different ages.
Gathered around one King.
There is something deeply beautiful about unity in the body of Christ when it is genuine.
Because the world constantly divides people.
Politics divides people.
Social media divides people.
Pride divides people.
Culture divides people.
But the Gospel pulls people together around Christ.
That matters deeply to me.
Especially now.
Because honestly, the world feels increasingly dark at times.
You scroll online and everywhere there is outrage.
Confusion.
Anger and conflict.
Depression and anxiety.
People searching desperately for identity while simultaneously looking further away from God.
And if I am honest, sometimes it can feel discouraging watching culture drift further and further into confusion.
But nights like tonight remind me that darkness does not get the final word.
Jesus does.
That truth hit me deeply tonight.
Because revival has never started in easy seasons historically.
Revival usually rises in spiritually dry seasons.
When people become desperate enough to realise nothing else satisfies the soul properly anymore.
And I genuinely believe there is a spiritual hunger growing underneath the surface right now.
People may not always know how to articulate it, but they are searching.
Searching for peace and rest.
Searching for purpose.
Searching for truth.
Searching for something stable enough to hold them together internally.
The tragedy is many people search everywhere except the place peace is actually found.
Christ.
And maybe that is why I felt emotional tonight.
Because worship reminded me again what life is actually about.
Not success.
Not image.
Not money.
Not platforms.
Jesus.
The Gospel.
Souls.
Eternity.
As I stood there beside Bianca during worship, I found myself reflecting on my own testimony too.
I thought about meningococcal disease.
Mental battles.
Dark nights of the soul.
The seasons in my life where internally I felt shattered.
And honestly, I think that is partly why revival matters so much to me personally.
Because I know what darkness feels like.
I know what hopelessness feels like.
I know what it feels like when your own thoughts drown you and become dangerous places to sit inside.
I know what it feels like trying to survive emotionally while still functioning outwardly.
And because I know what darkness feels like, I also know how real the light of Christ is.
Jesus did not become real to me through theory alone.
He became real to me in weakness.
In brokenness.
In desperation.
And once you have encountered Christ like that, worship changes.
It stops becoming religious routine.
It becomes gratitude.
Today t I genuinely found myself thanking God quietly during worship.
Thanking Him for preserving my life.
Thanking Him for the rugged cross.
Thanking Him for continuing to pursue me despite my flaws, failures, struggles, and imperfections.
And perhaps most importantly, thanking Him that He is not finished yet.
That sentence stayed with me all day.
God is not finished yet.
Not with me.
Not with the Church.
Not with this generation.
Not with the Gold Coast.
Not with Australia.
I think many believers quietly lose expectancy over time.
Life happens.
Pressure builds up over time.
Bills happen.
Fatigue sinks in to the mind body and soul.
Responsibilities pile up.
And before long faith can slowly drift into maintenance mode instead of expectancy.
You still believe in God.
But deep down you stop expecting Him to move powerfully.
I understand that feeling more than I want to admit.
Especially lately with life moving so quickly.
Hospital shifts.
Responsibilities.
Mental pressure.
Trying to balance everything.
There have honestly been moments recently where survival mode has felt stronger than vision.
And maybe that is partly why tonight affected me so deeply.
Because something inside me woke back up again.
Not emotionally only.
Spiritually.
A reminder that God still moves.
That revival is still possible.
That the Gospel still carries power.
Not symbolic power.
Real power.
Power to save people and save dead souls.
Power to transform lives.
Power to break addiction.
Power to restore broken minds and mend broken hearts.
Power to bring dead things back to life spiritually.
I believe that with everything in me.
And standing there tonight, surrounded by worship, I felt this overwhelming sense that God is preparing hearts again.
Not celebrity Christianity.
Not shallow performance Christianity.
Real hunger.
The older I get, the less impressed I become by polished spirituality without depth underneath it.
I want substance.
I want holiness.
I want truth.
I want the presence of God.
I want authentic moves of the Spirit that genuinely transform people from the inside out.
Not emotional moments people forget by Tuesday.
I dont want another Ted talk.
the apotle paul wrote: 
“And my speech and my preaching were not with persuasive words of human wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power.”
— 1 Corinthians 2:4
Real transformation.
And honestly, I think many people are longing for that right now whether they realise it or not.
Because nothing else satisfies the soul properly.
Not endlessly scrolling online.
Not success.
Not relationships.
Not achievement.
Nothing fills the place inside human beings that God Himself was meant to occupy.
Eventually people become exhausted chasing things that cannot save them.
And maybe that exhaustion itself is preparing hearts for revival.
I kept thinking tonight about the early Church in Acts.
Ordinary people gathered together in unity.
Hungry for God.
Dependent on prayer.
Filled with boldness.
And the Gospel spread like fire.
Not because Christians were culturally powerful.
Because the Holy Spirit moved powerfully.
That is what I long for again.
Not comfortable Christianity.
Not passive Christianity.
A Church burning with love for Jesus again.
A Church unashamed of holiness.
A Church unashamed of the Gospel.
A Church carrying compassion and conviction simultaneously.
I think one of the things that struck me tonight too was how deeply I desire people to encounter Jesus genuinely.
Not religion.
Not performance.
Jesus Himself.
Because one authentic encounter with Christ changes everything.
I know that personally.
There are moments in my life where God stepped into darkness and radically altered my direction.
And maybe that is why evangelism matters so much to me.
Because people are not projects.
They are eternal souls.
People carrying trauma.
People carrying addiction.
People carrying suicidal thoughts.
People carrying silent battles nobody else sees.
And Christ remains the only answer deep enough for the human soul.
That reality weighed heavily on me tonight.
Not in a hopeless way.
In a burdened way.
There is a difference.
I think the Lord is stirring many believers right now with fresh burden for souls.
Fresh burden for prayer.
Fresh burden for holiness.
hungry hearts.
Fresh burden for revival.
At least I know He is stirring that inside me again.
As the worship continued today, I found myself praying quietly:

“Lord, let me stay hungry.”
Not comfortable.
Hungry for truth.
Hungry for righteousness.
Hungry for Your presence.
Hungry to see darkness pushed back by the Gospel.
Because honestly, I do not want a casual Christianity anymore.
I do not want surface-level faith.
Life is too short.
Eternity is too real.
People are hurting too deeply.
The Gospel matters too much.
And maybe that is what today reminded me of more than anything else.
This life is not ultimately about building our own little kingdoms.
It is about Jesus.
His Kingdom.
His glory.
His Gospel reaching people trapped in darkness.
And today, standing there worshipping with so many believers gathered together as one church, I felt hope rise in me again.
Real hope.
Not because the world suddenly became less broken.
But because Christ remains greater than the darkness.
That matters.
Especially now.
Because if you stare at the darkness long enough without fixing your eyes on Christ, discouragement eventually creeps in.
But worship recentres everything.
It reminds you who God is.
It reminds you that Heaven still rules.
It reminds you that the Gospel is still alive and active.
It reminds you that revival is not impossible.
And honestly, I left today feeling deeply stirred.
Not hyped.
Stirred.
There is a difference.
Hype fades quickly.
Spiritual conviction lingers.
And even now sitting here reflecting before bed, I still feel this deep sense in my spirit:
This is only the beginning.
That sentence excites me.
But it also confronts me.
Because if revival truly comes, it changes people.
It demands surrender.
It ruins compromise.
It pulls people deeper into prayer, holiness, dependence, and obedience.
And honestly, I want that.
Not perfection.
But depth.
Real intimacy with God.
deep  transformation.
Real dependence on Christ.
Real boldness for the Gospel.
As I close this Sunday night reflecting on King’s Together at the Gold Coast Turf Club in Bundall, I feel incredibly grateful.
Grateful for Bianca standing beside me.
Grateful for the Church.
Grateful for worship and the power of God.
Grateful for community and family.
Grateful that despite all the darkness in the world, the light of Christ still shines powerfully.
And perhaps this is the deepest thing I am carrying into this new week:
The darkness may be loud right now.
But the Gospel is louder.
Jesus is still building His Church.
The Spirit of God is still moving.
And revival is still possible.
Tonight reminded me of that again.
And deep in my spirit, I genuinely believe this:
This is only the beginning.

About the Author

Dylan Verdun Sullivan is the founder of Refined by Fire Press and an Australian author indexed in the National Library of Australia. As a Level 7 Local Guide with over 1.7 million views on Google Maps, he documents the intersection of faith, recovery, and the light found in ordinary places.

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