"He Doesn't Hear My Prayers"

The mood was heavy and dark as we sat in the dimly lit hut. Once again, the family was without food and had no ability to change it. Their hard work of planting seedlings and daily watering won’t come to profit until June and that doesn’t fill the hungry bellies now. Their three wells, even the newly dug one, are dried up and along with it, their hope. They are tired, even their little ones are sluggish with dull eyes. 

After making provision for the family’s immediate future, I took our four kiddos back home while Jon and Misikir (visiting from Addis) stayed behind. As they peered with the family into the dried and crumbling wells, Misikir offered a humble prayer to God for rain and provision for the family. It’s not the season for rain, we’re through the short rains, and have over a month before the long rains start. 

Last night, it started to rain, slow and steady through the night. Jon visited the family again this morning and the wife told Jon, “Yes, God answers prayers for you and for Misikir. He doesn’t answer my prayers”.  I have time to type now as we had to bump off our afternoon invite and the drum of heavy rain on the tin roof warns us to hold off on the hike. It's raining, again. Pounding, pouring, heavy rain. Updated to add, as we walk, wet under our umbrellas, I asked why Jon hadn't told me they prayed this as I have sent all our rain boots and rain jackets ahead to our new home in Bahir Dar. We pass neighbors who exclaim, "What is happening?! Suddenly the rain is upon us!" and "This is a gift of God!" I pass the house of our friend with the empty wells. She is standing under her tin awning. We laugh across the distance and I yell, "God was thinking of you when he sent the rains to bless us all." She smiles and laughs, her eyes twinkling.  

Praise God with us for the miraculous change in weather and ask God with us for hope to be known and felt within our community. 

I sat today with open Bibles with several women, rejoicing in the glorious opposites we get to celebrate and praying God turns hearts of stone into hearts of flesh. 

Our Easter isn’t until next week but what a picture, Friday during Holy Week is called “the hanging” in Amharic. What a day it was. A day when darkness, lies and fear ruled, when a day like Sunday seemed impossible. But Sunday is coming and the opposite will come, Light, Truth and Love wins. 

Thank you, Jesus.