...and their hearts are with their God...

It was raining and the counselor stood to open the meeting with only a handful of members present. Men out numbered the women- 14 men, 1 woman, 3 children. They were all rained soaked but in their seats. “Akwaba” and then the familiar sound “Yenna”. Announcements were spoken in Twi and the opening hymn was Welcome, Welcome Sabbath Morning. The hymn was sung rather slowly due to the English words. The invocation was offered by Brother Boafa who dripped water the entire way from his seat and was barefoot as he stood at the pulpit and bowed his head. “God from above, we thank you for the much needed rain for our crops and our wells and our homes….” I looked up as he poured out his heart for those that were not there at the time and asked “the blessings of heaven to carry our brothers and sisters to our meetings”. He never asked for the rain to stop, just that the saints would come to the meetings that day. During the next 70 minutes, I witnessed the whole chapel fill with faithful saints who walked in the rain to their beloved Church; babies upon their mother’s backs who were soaked through and through. Children in Sunday best already muddy and wet, mothers with beautiful head wraps that drooped around their faces, and fathers and husbands with white shirts and ties drenched by the heavy rain. All removed their shoes at the door and reverently entered the chapel barefoot. Where they sat, there were puddles of water from their clothes and faces; not a cry or a complaint was heard. One by one they filled the chapel to capacity and one by one many walked to the pulpit and bore testimony of the blessings they had received by Gods hand. It was a most spiritual witness of these fine pilgrims holding fast to the rod of iron they feel so deeply in their hearts. I saw most men and all of the women that shuffled into the chapel and found a seat, would immediately bow their heads for a few seconds and then would prepare for the meeting. I wondered what their few seconds of thought was about. Here they were soak and wet, had prepared themselves and children in the rain before coming, and walking, sometimes over one hour, down rained covered trails to attend church; and I, arose in a dry home, had time to study the scriptures before I came, and drove in a modern truck over muddy roads to the same chapel to worship alone side these humble saints of God. I felt envious of their pledged hearts, and guilty of my occasional complaints of the elements. Are we not all to be taught by these dedicated humble saints here in Ghana? I feel the need to learn of their ways and their love of God. And of their moments of bowing their heads when they first set down, I inquired of one sweet elderly sister, “I thanked God for the rain today and my every breath that carried me here to church.”