“Do you remember when we went floating down the river on the raft?” I asked my friend Mene as we sat visiting in the Clays’ house.

“Yes, and how it got dark and the wind began to blow and the rain came?” he replied.

“Yes, yes,” I said. “And do you remember how we prayed to God, and He helped us?”

“Yes, I remember,” Mene replied.

We were visiting our old village for the first time in nearly six years. Just the day before, I had struggled to hold back tears as I watched this devout Muslim man ride up to me on his motorcycle, and we locked in a strong embrace. The last time we had seen each other, we had shed the tears of a sad farewell. Now they were tears of joy. As we reminisced about a very personal mutual encounter with God, I rejoiced at the evidence that faith was still growing in this man’s heart.

As Hope and I eagerly threaded our way through the dusty village and peered under the stilted houses, more familiar faces turned to look in our direction. “Teacher Philip and Hope! You have come back! Peace to you! Are you well?” they called out.

“Yes, we are well,” we replied. “And are you well? Peace be to you also!”

As we continued to walk, our old friend Fatilah ran out to meet us and embraced Hope. “Harleem’s father is dead,” she told us. “He died three years ago. Harleem cries for him so much.”

Then another friend approached us. “I am very sick, do you have any medicine?”

Yet another person begged, “Can I borrow some money to buy gas for my pump? My crop will die if I don’t water it soon!”

Suddenly the six years of our absence seemed more like six days, or even six hours. Everything seemed so familiar.

That night as Hope and I lay in bed, we reflected on the day and the future. What is God’s plan for the Great River People? Right now we are praying for God’s guidance and planning the next steps. Will you add your prayers to ours?

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