My feet are swollen and won’t stop itching.
Sweat is pouring down my back.
I’ve been in my Punjabi for 10 straight hours.
That morning I was exhausted and wondered how I’d make it through our twelve hour ministry day. Yet that night I found myself sitting in a plastic chair, facing another congregation: the place I’ve been every night since our arrival in India. As I sat there I reflected on our time here so far.
Our ministry involves a lot of praying. We pray before every meal. We pray before we leave the house to go to ministry. We pray for many families in the villages we visit every night. We pray during the church services each night. We pray for the members of the congregation after the service. We pray so much, that after just a few days I feel like a phony. I don’t feel like I’m talking to God. I feel like (and know) I’m praying the same words I prayed over a family a few houses over.
But maybe it doesn’t matter how I feel.
Maybe it doesn’t matter what we pray but that we do. My feelings don’t dictate what God is able to hear. And though we haven’t seen anyone healed miraculously, a lot of our prayers haven’t been ones that could be answered right away. Prayers for success and pregnancy don’t happen on the spot.
Plus, the results of prayer do not depend on us.
Plus, the thing is, my team has seen a ton of answered prayer. God’s been answering our small, seemingly insignificant prayers. We pray for the electricity A LOT. After the day I described above, we came home around 10:30 p.m. to no electricity and none expected for three more days. We were tired and hot, but sleep didn’t seem very likely without electricity to power our ceiling fans. After changing clothes and lying on the floor, I prayed for the strikes to end. I prayed the electricity would come back on. My teammates were doing the same. About thirty minutes later, the fans started whirring above my head. I cried I was so happy.
So back to the service I was describing at the beginning. My team earlier in the day had prayed for strength, endurance, and direction for what to share at the service that night. I had prayed for the tiredness to leave my body. As I sat looking at the faces of the people in front of me, I realized I wasn’t tired at all. I was able to stop doing this ministry on my own strength and do it on His. My mind bounced back and forth with ideas for what to share that night. I prayed for God to give me words and He did.
