Prayer Walking in Barron

It is a warm spring night and no one has shown at our monthly intercessory prayer gathering in Barron. We are never more than a handful but this night we are, apparently, just a finger - me. We gather at a place called The Well in our county seat to pray regularly for our Somali neighbors and for those who are in relationship with them. We've been praying for this slice of Africa that moved to our nearly all-white county a little over ten years ago for some time now. But this night other priorities must be taking precedent in the lives of those who share the same burden as I.

After about ten minutes and no late-comers have pulled up, it's such a pleasant evening I decide to go on a prayer-walk. I head up 14th Street and then turn left on LaSalle heading toward the business district of the city. I have walked no more than 500 feet when I notice Salem Lutheran's sign which reads: "Jesus said, 'Listen to Me.'" And so I pray silently, "Lord, help me to listen to You as I walk."

Though it is about 6:45 p.m. there are few cars on the road. The birds are trilling louder than the hum of the traffic a block over on Highway 8. People - all white - are out walking their dog or working in their yard. There is not a Somali in sight. Barron has the feel of a town that has seen its better days. The homes on LaSalle - especially as you get closer to down town - were glorious, imposing edifices in their day. But now there is a feel of general decay all around as if the city has succumbed to old age. As I get closer to the Post Office, there are more and more empty storefronts. I look in the window at the Barron Bakery and it looks like how I would imagine a bakery in the former Soviet Union would appear - empty shelves, empty racks and no goods in the window to incite a potential customer to come in and take a gander at their wares.

I reach Safari, the "Somali restaurant" as it is known to the locals, and go in. A few old ones are listening to some man speaking in what I assume is Somali on a lap top. I say "Mafiantahi" ("Hello" in Somali) to them and they either do not hear me or do not care to acknowledge me. I order a Chai tea and wander a bit through the few aisles of groceries just to pass the time while I wait. I pay for my tea, thank the man and exit and continue on my walk. With the exception of the four guys I saw in Safari, there are no other Somali about. Just white people - and not many of them, either - enjoying the evening air. A young dad ahead of me pushes a jogging stroller with a couple of kids in it. He is stopped by a Somali man walking with his two young daughters. As I come upon them, he is asking the young man about his children and the stroller that clearly intrigues him.

I pass some Cub Scouts and their leaders who are out on the lawn of the courthouse batting a beach ball around. Later on, I pass a group of kids playing what we refer to as "blob-tag" out on the lawn of First Lutheran. It must be some kind of kids' program as a number of adults are shouting instructions and generally looking on.

I have been walking for about a half hour now and have not really prayed anything of substance other than, "Lord, I don't know how to pray so please teach me to pray for Barron tonight." I walk on. I notice a block or so ahead of me what must be a Somali woman out walking for she is in traditional dress. She turns down another street. I reach First Baptist and I begin to think again about the sign at Salem Lutheran: "Jesus said, 'Listen to me.'" So I begin to imagine what a city would look like if they listened to Jesus.

When Jesus was transfigured, the Father is reported to have spoken "This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!" (Matthew 17:5)So I pray that Barron would listen to Jesus. That they would bless those who treated them poorly; that they would pray for those who spitefully use them; that they would forgive their enemies and love their neighbors. I arrive at the Copland's home on Lake St and stop in.

Wade & Jessica have lived in Barron for three years now and came from sunny California due to the call of the Lord to work with the Somali. They head up The Well and are doing a wonderful work at incarnating the Gospel among their Muslim neighbors. In fact, recently Wade had the opportunity to pray with one of them who has professed faith in Jesus Christ (the first one in Barron to do so to our knowledge). They are sitting in their living room having just finished their dinner. We visit about "the work", about the two Mormon guys who have been dropping in for lengthy conversations, and about Jessica's doctor-prescribed bed rest due to a baby who is too eager for its own good to join his or her family. She is due in August - a long time from now - and as you would expect from someone who is doing a lot of sitting, she seems tired. I stay about 30 minutes and then pray with them and then resume my walk.

I'm walking eastward on Highway 8. Traffic is steady. I pass one house whose owner is trying to get his yard cut before it is completely dark. After a few blocks on "8", it's too busy for my liking and I cut over to LaSalle again which by contrast is completely deserted. A kid on his bike is heading either home or on a quick errand. Dark is coming rapidly. The Somali man with the two little girls is heading my way. I quick pray that God will help me as I greet him only to see him duck into a building. I have LaSalle again to myself.

"Barron, listen to Jesus," I pray again. I pray for the Church of Jesus in this community to listen to their Lord. I pray for the Muslim people to listen to Isa. I pray for the LDSers and the pagans as well who reside in this city to "Listen to Him", to heed his voice, to walk in his way. As I walk the final quarter mile or so back to my van, I pray that God would root out all manner of division between the various Christian fellowships in Barron which seems to have two of everything - two Lutheran congregations, two Baptist, two Methodist as well as a group of Mennonites, Four Square, St. Joseph's and the various Christians no doubt living in this city who are disaffected and do not find the present structures of any of the fellowships life-giving to say the least. I pray for them that they will bless their brothers, speak well of each other and love each other as if their lives depended on it so that "the world will know" that the Father has sent Jesus and loves them as much as he loves Him (John 17:23).

I'm back at my van. I drive up 14th Street but this time turn right on LaSalle, past the mosque and onto Highway 8 heading for home. It has been pretty - well, dare I say it? - pedestrian as intercession goes I suppose. But it was a beautiful night for a walk and I trust as simple as my prayers were, God led me and taught me how to pray for Barron on this warm night in April.