Mark Batterson: “Young children danced in the downpour
like it was the first rainfall they’d ever seen. And it was.
Parents threw back their heads, opened their mouths, and caught raindrops like they were libations.
And they were.
When it hasn't rained in more than a year, raindrops are like diamonds falling from the sky.
It was the first century BC, and a
devastating drought threatened to destroy a generation-the generation before
Jesus.
The last of the Jewish prophets had died off nearly four centuries before. Miracles were such a distant memory that they seemed like a false memory. And God was nowhere to be heard.
But there was one man, an eccentric sage who lived outside the walls of Jerusalem, who dared to pray anyway. His name was Honi. And even if the people could no longer hear God, he believed that God could still hear them.
The last of the Jewish prophets had died off nearly four centuries before. Miracles were such a distant memory that they seemed like a false memory. And God was nowhere to be heard.
But there was one man, an eccentric sage who lived outside the walls of Jerusalem, who dared to pray anyway. His name was Honi. And even if the people could no longer hear God, he believed that God could still hear them.
With a six-foot staff in his hand,
Honi began to turn like a math compass.
His circular movement was rhythmical and methodical. Ninety degrees. One hundred eighty degrees. Two hundred seventy degrees. Three hundred sixty degrees.
He never looked up as the crowd looked on. After what seemed like hours but had only been seconds, Honi stood inside the circle he had drawn. Then he dropped to his knees and raised his hands to heaven.
With the authority of the prophet Elijah, who called down fire from heaven, Honi called down rain:
His circular movement was rhythmical and methodical. Ninety degrees. One hundred eighty degrees. Two hundred seventy degrees. Three hundred sixty degrees.
He never looked up as the crowd looked on. After what seemed like hours but had only been seconds, Honi stood inside the circle he had drawn. Then he dropped to his knees and raised his hands to heaven.
With the authority of the prophet Elijah, who called down fire from heaven, Honi called down rain:
‘Lord of the universe, I swear before Your
great name that I will not move from this circle until You have shown mercy
upon Your children.’
The words sent a shudder down the spines of all who were within earshot that day.
It wasn't just the volume of his voice; it was the authority of his tone. Not a hint of doubt.
This prayer didn't originate in the vocal chords. Like water from an artesian well, the words flowed from the depth of his soul. His prayer was resolute yet humble, confident yet meek, expectant yet unassuming.
Then it happened.
As his prayer ascended to the heavens,
raindrops descended to the earth.
An audible gasp swept across the thousands of congregants who had encircled Honi. Every head turned heaven ward as the first raindrops parachuted from the sky, but Honi’s head remained bowed.
The people rejoiced over each drop, but Honi wasn't satisfied with a sprinkle. Still kneeling within the circle, Honi lifted his voice over the sounds of celebration:
An audible gasp swept across the thousands of congregants who had encircled Honi. Every head turned heaven ward as the first raindrops parachuted from the sky, but Honi’s head remained bowed.
The people rejoiced over each drop, but Honi wasn't satisfied with a sprinkle. Still kneeling within the circle, Honi lifted his voice over the sounds of celebration:
‘Not
for such rain have I prayed, but for rain that will fill cisterns, pits, and
caverns.’
The sprinkle turned into such a
torrential downpour that eyewitnesses said no raindrop was smaller than an egg
in size.
It rained so heavily and so steadily that the people fled to the Temple Mount to escape the flash floods. Hone stayed and prayed inside his protracted circle. Once more he refined his bold request:
It rained so heavily and so steadily that the people fled to the Temple Mount to escape the flash floods. Hone stayed and prayed inside his protracted circle. Once more he refined his bold request:
‘Not for such rain have I prayed, but for
rain of Your favor, blessing, and graciousness.’
Then, like a well-proportioned sun
shower on a hot humid August afternoon, it began to rain calmly, peacefully.
Each raindrop was a tangible token of God’s grace. And they didn't just soak the skin; they soaked the spirit with faith.
It had been difficult to believe the day before the rain. The day after the day, it was impossible not to believe.
Each raindrop was a tangible token of God’s grace. And they didn't just soak the skin; they soaked the spirit with faith.
It had been difficult to believe the day before the rain. The day after the day, it was impossible not to believe.
The prayer that saved a generation was
deemed one of the most significant prayers in the history of Israel.
The circle he drew in the sand became a sacred symbol. And the legend of Honi the circle maker stands forever as a testament to the power of a single prayer to change the course of history.”
The circle he drew in the sand became a sacred symbol. And the legend of Honi the circle maker stands forever as a testament to the power of a single prayer to change the course of history.”
This was taken from Mark Batterson’s book The Circle Maker (pp. 9-11) by Zondervan.com
Later in his book, Mark quotes the
Hebrew historian Josephus as saying “Now
there was one, whose name was Onias, a righteous man he was, and beloved of
God, who, in a certain drought, prayed to God to put an end to the intense
heat, and whose prayers God had heard, and had sent them rain.”
“Now to Him who is able
to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the
power that works in us.” Eph. 4:20 (NKJV)
Tomorrow’s post: Letting the Word Work Within You by Pocket Devotions
The power of prayer is amazing.
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