Through the Lens of Worship - Martin Smith in Thailand

A couple of days before the Thailand National Worship Conference and Worship Night 2026, I was asked to be the main photographer. I think I was the only professional photographer covering the event.

It felt last minute. But it also felt like an assignment.

I have photographed many events before. Conferences. School programmes, Bands, Wildlife in the quiet of the forest. But this was different. This was the Church in Thailand gathering. And as someone who lives here, who serves here, who worships here, it carried weight.

Christians are a small percentage of this nation. You feel that in everyday life. Faith is often quiet. Personal. Steady. So when believers from across the country gather in one room, it feels almost unreal.

From behind the camera, I noticed things people on stage might not see.

I saw hands lifted slowly at first, then boldly.
I saw young people watching older believers and learning how to worship.
I saw pastors closing their eyes not as leaders but as sons and daughters.

And then there was Martin Smith.

Yes, he is a public figure. A name many of us grew up with. If I am honest, you could call him a celebrity in the Christian world. His songs shaped seasons of our lives. To see him in Bangkok leading worship was significant.

But here is what struck me.

When the room allowed the Holy Spirit to move, there was no celebrity. No important person. No hierarchy.

There was only God.

Through my lens, I realised something.

The camera can capture expressions. It can freeze hands lifted, eyes closed, tears falling. It can document moments. But it cannot capture real posture.

Real posture is hidden.

You can photograph someone singing. You cannot photograph surrender. You can frame a powerful image of worship. But you cannot see the motives behind it. At the end of the day, what truly matters is not visible in high resolution. It is buried deep within the heart.

And only God sees that clearly.

That humbled me.

Because whether we are on stage, in the crowd or behind a camera, our true posture is never measured by how it looks. It is measured by who it is for.

And that is something no lens can ever fully capture.

As a worship leader myself, I reflected deeply.

Standing in front of people and leading worship is not easy. It is hard to position yourself before a crowd without making it about yourself. It is hard to hold a microphone and not subtly crave affirmation. It is hard to be visible and still remain hidden.

There is so much we can learn from seasoned worship leaders and artists like Martin Smith. I have deep respect for those who have carried that responsibility for years, who understand how to hold a room yet continually point people back to the truth that Jesus is Lord.

I have wrestled with that tension.

But that night reminded me of something important. It is not my job to position people’s hearts. I cannot manufacture hunger. I cannot force surrender. I cannot emotionally engineer worship.

That belongs to the Holy Spirit.

My responsibility, as a worship leader, is simpler and heavier at the same time. It is to point. To guide. To create space. To help people see where worship truly belongs.

Not on the stage.
Not on the band.
Not on a well known worship leader from another country.

But on God alone.

As I edited the photos afterwards, I did not just see lighting and composition. I saw formation. Worship shapes us. It teaches us humility. It reminds us that we are not the centre. It aligns our hearts again and again.

For one evening in Bangkok, a minority Church sang loudly. Not to be noticed by the city. Not to prove anything. But to declare love for God.

And from where I stood, camera in hand, I realised this again.

When worship is real, the lens disappears. The platform disappears. The personalities fade.

And God remains.

That is the kind of worship that shapes us.