HSMT, 2006, Arizona Trip, Sunday Evening
A novice, I didn’t know what to expect during my first missions trip to the Navajo Reservation. Sure, we planned things out for our VBS lessons, but if I remember correctly, no one ever told us what it would be like to live and camp out there for a week. If you recall my first post about Arizona, you’ll remember how highly I spoke of those who served in the teens class. As a sophomore I was thrown (chosen?) into it, and of course I felt proud of my circumstance.
Now, whenever FCBC LA visits the Navajo Reservation, we bring rain with us. Coincidence, magic, an act of God.. whatever you want to classify it as, it happened. At least for the years of HSMT that I participated in, it would rain once in the middle of the week and once more as we were leaving. It would always be a nice reprieve from the 100 degree dry desert heat.
The night before we would begin Vacation Bible School for the Navajo kids, we gathered together in the shade house for a time of worship and prayer. The prayer time was lead by the one and only Auntie Thelma.
She lead us in singing the chorus of Let it Rain. Over and over like a broken record, we sang:
“Let it rain, let it rain,
Open the floodgates of heaven.”
The overhead projector had just those two lines written on it as it was projected onto the wall, not that we really needed it. As you could imagine, as we were singing these lyrics, Auntie Thelma went on to explain the dryness of the land, the needs of the these people, and the thirst for Jesus. The intensity would ramp up as we kept singing this for the next 15 or 20 minutes. A midst her prayers, she would say to us “make this song your prayer, cry it out!” and “louder, louder!”
Again, I was a novice. Perhaps even having novice faith as well. Sitting there on the benches of the shade-house with hands folded, eyes closed and singing this song over and over again while praying with one another, I wasn’t really expecting anything. I attributed it to my seven year old self praying and asking God for a bicycle.
Soon, the intensity died down and Auntie Thelma began to close the time in prayer. With only one voice speaking, everyone’s’ ears perked up as we all began to hear the soft pitter-patter of rain hitting the roof and the ground. I guarantee you at least half that room opened their eyes, and whispered “whoa”, as they looked out the windows to confirm what their ears heard.
We were so amazed.
It wasn’t torrential rain either. It was just enough to dampen the tops of our tents and not ruin our sleeping bags or clothes. Call it what you want, but I believe only God can do that. And it’s amazing acts like that that kept me serving and coming back for the next 3 years.
What an awesome week..