Honduras was unexpected. The weather was cool, pine trees were everywhere, and we had little concern for safety. This country was famous for having the “murder capital of the world,” so I expected to be on high alert all month. Fortunately, it was a beautiful month where my team experienced a lot of freedom.
Something else I didn’t expect about Honduras was the attachment I had to our ministry site. Our ministry was called Hope at Hand and was run by a young couple, David and Scarleth Jones. We went to two different local schools and gave them a bible lesson, a meal, and played games with them. Our team would take turns sharing about a different parable that Jesus told. Public speaking is probably makes the list of top three things that terrify me the most, so I was not looking forward to my time to share.
The first time I shared, it was at the bigger school of the two. It felt a little forced and rehearsed, but I think I got the message across. The next week though, when it was my time to share at the smaller school, I woke up with a terrible stomachache. I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it to the school to share, and I spent an hour going back and forth. I ultimately decided I was just going to go and trust God that if I was sharing, He would keep me healthy enough to at least get through the talk.
Once we got to the school and I got up to share, the ministry host asked me if I wanted the kids to pray for me because I wasn’t feeling well. Usually I would say, “Nah… That’s okay, I’m fine.” So I surprised myself when I said, “Yes! Please!!” I thought they would just say a quick little prayer while I stood there, but instead they had me stand in the middle. Twenty-five kids gathered around me and laid their hands on me, and one kid even laid his hand right on my stomach where it hurt. Three of the kids took turns praying out loud for me. As the kid that laid his hand on my stomach prayed, I felt it start to settle. When one of the girls started praying for me, I felt my spirit settle as well. A wave of peace overcame me and I didn’t feel nervous anymore.
When the prayer was over, I came out of it feeling at peace, but also a little taken aback. Their prayer was so genuine, real, and powerful that I had forgotten for a few moments what I was going to speak about. Once I gathered my thoughts again, I told the parable of the vineyard workers and gave a quick message about it. This time I gave the message, it didn’t feel forced- it felt real and genuine, just like their prayer for me.
This experience was an amazing reminder of the power of prayer.
And not just prayer with the hopes that God might do something with it.
But praying with child-like faith.
With the confidence that prayer has the power to change, the power to heal.
Believing that He is our Heavenly Father and we are His children.
Believing fully that God hears you and answers your prayers.
Prayer is something that became mundane routine for me in Honduras, to the point where I didn’t really know what to say to God anymore. I grew distant from the understanding that prayer has the power to change, to heal, to restore.
Going into month four, I decided prayer would be a discipline that I would “restart” so to speak. I want to get away from my old prayer habits and begin again.
This starts with listening for His voice. Then comes responding with openness, honesty, and trust that the Father is listening and will answer.
Prayer isn’t just talking to Him, it’s partnering with Him.
