“… I tell you the truth, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; nothing will be impossible for you.” Matthew 17:20 (NETFull)
The Lord led me to fast and pray for maimed souls in Zimbabwe so I mounted a horse and headed for the highest kopje (hill). For hours I laid on my face in an abandoned foundation. As God’s holiness moved onto the kopje, I was reduced to recounting my own failures.
“How can you use my pathetic prayers against the tide of demonic evil flooding this land?”
The greatness of our God and the smallness of my faith pinned me to the ground. Linear time ceased as I watched specks dancing over the cement. I laid sideways trying to fathom what I beheld. Hundreds of gray bits waltzed within the one-meter tall brick wall.
In the vista below, natives had set the grasslands on fire to clear the fields and a dozen smoke plumes reached into the sky from three-hundred-sixty degrees around me. Ashes rained into my prayer sanctuary where the breeze swept them in circles. The spectacle redoubled my faith.
The blazes began while I prayed, and just so, God's Spirit put a match to the nonphysical landscape to burn away African ancestor worship. With inclusion I didn’t deserve, the Lord used the dancing ashes to demonstrate angelic rejoicing over repentant hearts to come. He heard my small prayers.
A wondrous time of God’s healing followed in the district. Leaders prayed in unity, churches worshiped together and witchcraft shriveled.
When the prayer of faith strikes the steel of hope, a tiny spark ignites the rocket-blast of God’s power.
Prayer: Listening God, hear my small prayers.