LIVING WATERS
For the proclamation of the Gospel and the edification of the Body of Christ
Would God Stop the Rain?
"I told the children he was more powerful than all their gods put together. Now they waited to see..."
By Lee Moran
The swirling winds and menacing clouds seemed evil omens for our arrival in Kinango. Anxious faces greeted us in the remote Kenyan village, their eyes silently communicating gratefulness for the food, clothing, and medical supplies our East African Relief Services team brought them. They knew we had risked a lot to help them at this time of year. The wet season can arrive with deadly swiftness, turning dusty roads into mud and bringing transportation to an abrupt halt.
While the others distributed supplies, I packed up my portable flannelgraph with Bible story figures. I knew there were children in a settlement half a mile away, across a stream on the open plain. As a white stranger with thick glasses walking with a noticeable limp (the result of an accident in my teen years), I soon attracted a crowd.
Ambo rafiki yangu (Hello, my friends), I called to the children who plopped down in a circle on the ground, still damp from the last rain. Curiosity had drawn them in. Now the trick was to hold their attention as the clouds blanketed the area in eerie darkness.
The children chattered away in Swahili. Some gestured toward the sky.
"What did they say?" I asked my interpreter, Philistina.
"The storm frightens them. Bad things happen when the big rain comes."
Philistina explained the children's fears were based on real dangers. Flimsy grass huts or nearby trees provided the only protection during the monsoon. Bush animals would frantically scurry around looking for new shelter when their burrows flooded. Hordes of spiders and fire ants joined the earthen-colored lizards and poisonous snakes in a desperate search for any semi-dry spot.
As Philistina talked, I remembered seeing a four-foot puff adder stretched out across the dirt road. The thought of the venomous brown snake hiding under my bed sent chills down my spine. Even without the added threat from animals and insects, other dangers existed.
"Many children die of pneumonia during the rainy season. Villagers often call on spiritists or witch doctors to ward off the monsoon evils," she said.
Calling on the gods
The children wondered aloud which of their many gods they could ask to save them. What did I have that could help dispel their fears? I wondered.
My flannelgraph. Brand-new, it was my prized teaching resource. Just the day before I had cut out the characters for my story. Now I was emotionally torn. Rain would certainly ruin the flannelgraph and the paper figures.
I knew the children believed in the power of their many gods. It was my turn to introduce them to my one all-powerful God. Amazingly, the Bible story I had prepared was Elijah's showdown with the 450 false prophets (1 Kings 17 and 18). Responding to Elijah's prayer, God stopped the rain for three-and-a-half years. The African children listened attentively.
I feel like Elijah, I thought, surrounded by 21 children. Just like the false prophets from the Bible, these children relied on many false gods. Their needs were simple: to be kept safe and dry. Would God do that for them?
"My God-book says, 'Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever,'" I said, patting my Bible for emphasis. "If that's true, and I believe it is, then we can ask him today to stop the rains, too."
Inside, doubts started to nag me. Who am I anyway? Sure, God would do this for Elijah, but he was a prophet. Is God just as interested in my needs as Elijah's? O God, I prayed silently, please come through for these kids!
"Let's pray," I said to Philistina. She started to translate my words, but before she could instruct the children, they began to pray to "Lee's God" in Swahili. Philistina translated their prayers to me!
I listened as they asked my God to stop the rain. I joined in their prayers, all the time wondering if God would indeed answer.
"God, please forgive me for not trusting in your protection. I know you care. I do believe your arm is long enough to save us. We need you now."
A flannel fleece
As the black clouds enveloped us, it grew darker and darker. The temperature dropped. We watched as the rain fell in torrents. We heard the thunderous rain all around us, but in our circle, everyone was dry.
Before long, the storm had passed. I breathed a sigh of relief and glanced at the children. They grinned at me. Then I looked at my flannelgraph. Not a drop of water had touched it!
Now, it was my turn to smile. I was not Elijah or a prophet-just an ordinary person with a limp and poor vision. But I knew God had heard and answered my prayers-and the children's.
That day, the children witnessed God and his power in Kinango, a God that could protect them in future monsoons and hopefully would become real and powerful in their lives.
And God? I think he enjoyed hearing prayers in Swahili from a group of his future children.
A Christian Reader original article.
Copyright © 1996 Christianity Today International/Christian Reader Magazine.