I have tossed and turned, fitful at night, for my Christian brothers and sisters in Afghanistan. I have prayed in that dim stretch of confusion and fatigue and twilight—that place between night and day. I wake up to the moon, still telling the story of darkness that feels like it will last forever, and lifted my voice and my angst to God, tearfully trusting that what He says about the coming dawn is true.
I have heard trusted reports of the Taliban going through the phones of believers in Afghanistan and slaughtering anyone with a Bible app installed. I have heard trusted reports of Jesus followers literally running for the hills with their children, who hang from their hips and backs, as they make their way into caves. I have heard and I’ve heard and I’ve heard—and I raise my intercession over and over.
But you know what else I’ve heard?
Reports of boldness. Read More
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