In my past four years here, the months of August through November have been quite frustrating because of the almost daily power outages. (The first year was the worst—I was teaching computers. Imagine doing that with no electricity!)
This school year has been different. So far, we’ve lost power on campus only a handful of times, and for only a half hour or so each, instead of the typical 6-10 hour outages. Nearby neighborhoods, on the other hand, continue to go without power for extended periods. Though it's impossible to say for sure why, one plausible theory is that a high government official has moved into our neighborhood, and is making sure his home has consistent electrical service.
Well, a letter I read today indicates someone even more powerful has "moved into the neighborhood." I'll copy in portions of the letter below, but for it to make sense, you need a little background.
For about a third of our students, DA is home for three quarters of the year; they live in dorms on or near campus while their parents serve as missionaries in more remote parts of West Africa. Each dorm has a set of dorm parents—a married couple who care for the students during the school year. Dorm parents get one night off each week, and someone else from school fills in for them.
Dan (our middle school/high school principal) and his wife, Patty (our second grade teacher), fill in as “dorm relief parents” for the middle school boys each Monday night. Following a Senegalese tradition, Dan and the boys drink a tea called attayah [uh-TY-uh], the brewing and drinking of which is the centerpiece of evening fellowship in Senegal. It is often prepared outdoors. To make their attayah gatherings even more fun, the middle schoolers hold theirs on the roof (houses in Senegal have flat roofs).
In a letter to the boys’ parents, this week, Dan described the “incredible thing” he witnessed in the dorm Monday night. I reprint exerpts here, edited somewhat for clarity.
On a normal Monday evening, I take the boys on the roof for attayah and a devotion. Last night was no different, except that one of the boys asked if we could have an extended prayer time on the roof after the devotion. . . . As we ended our time on the roof, the rains began to come down, and WOW, did it pour, and then the power went out.
Shortly thereafter, the boys came to me and asked permission to all sleep in the living room. They cited two reasons. (1) With the power being out, it was cooler and (2) they wanted to continue their time in prayer.
By 9:00 P.M., every boy was in the living room and it was pitch black. They began to pray. They prayed for each other, for DA, for their parents, for their parents’ ministries, for the administration, for their dorm parents, for the Senegalese people, for God to crush Satan’s power in Senegal. They prayed and prayed and prayed.
Then they began to pray one-on-one with each other; each boy going to all of his dorm mates. Several of them even prayed with and for me. I was absolutely blown away. At around 10:00 P.M., the power suddenly came back on. Several of the boys got up and turned off all the lights while the others continued to pray. . . .
They prayed for the Holy Spirit to empower them to share the Gospel and to give them the courage to love each other and everyone they came in contact with. They prayed for strength, they prayed for God’s armor, they prayed for the Holy Spirit to take control of their lives. . . . They prayed for over two hours!
. . . Your children are . . . a bright light in our lives. . . . They are a testament to your loving affection and guidance. They are a testament to the power of the Holy Spirit. . . . They are a testament to what young boys can do for a world in need of God’s love. . . .
May God bless your day as your boys have blessed my night!
In His Service,
Dan
In my post of August 28, I explained the hardships faced annually by many Senegalese subsistence farmers whose first fall harvests often aren't sufficient to meet the needs of their families.
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