Runyararo
A ping sounded and Runyararo picked up her phone. It was a WhatsApp from Anah. A Bible verse, Romans 12:2. Runyararo smiled and replied with a ‘Thank you!’ with a praise hands emoticon.
Anah had been sending her verses every morning. Some had been just what she needed to read, all of them had been encouraging and uplifting. Runyararo smiled and set the phone down. She picked up her spoon and took a bite of cereal.
Things were going well for her. She had finally found a group of people she could commune with not only in person, every Tuesday but over the phone as well.
In addition to the daily verses Anah messaged the two of them would talk about what they had been going through and send each other prayer requests. It was great.
Runyararo could feel the light building and growing in her heart and she learned as much as she could about what it meant to be a Christian.
Thanks to the Anah she had gained a new understanding about prayer. She knew now that God always answered and that silence or a no, was an answer in itself.
She had learnt that to praise God one didn’t always have to be singing but in all that she did, she could worship Him as long as she worked as unto Him and not unto man. All this she hadn’t known attending her father’s services.
What was just as great was the new friends she had gained in the process. She had Anah, of course, and now Panashe. Through private talks on WhatsApp she had got to know more about Panashe.
Panashe had surprised Runyararo with her eager enthusiasm about God and all things Jesus. Looking at her, Runyararo wouldn’t have thought that Panashe had grown up in a home where every morning, as a family, they had a Bible study. Or that from the time she was twelve she had known about fasting and praying and had turned to both when she needed guidance in any area of her life.
These things wouldn’t have been so impressive if Runyararo hadn’t noticed how much they had shaped Panashe. There was a joy and a peace in the girl that amazed Runyararo. Like Runyararo, Panashe was going through a stage where she had no job and wasn’t attending university.
‘I thank God for this time, you know.’ She had said to Runyararo. ‘ I’m not even bothered about it. I was just like- you know what, Mwari? You know what you want me to be doing right now? If I’m not going to school? I’m not going to school. If I’m not working? I’m not working but give me something to do that will glorify You and grow me.’
A few weeks after the prayer she had been invited to sing and serve food at her aunt’s church. She was also part of a committee who helped out at orphanages.
‘I don’t get paid. But, hey it’s something to do. I know God has a plan for me and I’ll keep praying for Him to lead me to the job I should do.’
Her outlook on life gave her a grounding and strength that Runyararo felt she lacked. She had been so anxious at having to be at home. But she was beginning to realize that it wasn’t always about doing something, like everyone else was.
It was about growing at your own pace, in God’s time. It was about doing God’s will, whatever that looked like. All this she knew now and she was getting to know even more.
But she couldn’t help the feeling of apprehension that filled her.
Yet, despite all this growth and change taking place within her, something within her told her it was too easy. Too simple. Something reminded her that when the Word grew, so did adversity and tribulation.
She couldn’t help thinking that this was only the beginning, the calm before the storm that would really test the strength of her faith.
She wasn’t sure what form it would take. Maybe she wouldn’t have money for transport to attend other meetings? Maybe one of the members would decide that she shouldn’t attend the meetings anymore? Maybe…maybe her father would keep her from going?
She didn’t how the storm would come, only that it was coming.
