Your heart is full of this morning for the brother who has given you a place to sleep, and that is a sweet fruit of grace in you. You see him fretting because the rain keeps his customers away, and his till is light, and his spirit begins to sag. It is no small thing to carry a friend’s burden before the throne, and I want you to know that your prayer is not lost in the clouds any more than the Lord is blind to those wet pavements outside his shop.
Think of David, shut in by enemies, the house ringed with men who meant him harm. He did not stare at the swords; he looked away from them to his God, and he spoke these brazen words: “The God of my mercy shall go before me.” He knew that before the sun rose again, before he needed a plan, before his foot struck the floor, the Lord would already be out ahead of him, clearing the path. Now, your brother’s trial may seem a small thing compared to David’s, a quiet shop and a few rainy days, but the same God goes before him each morning. He knows the street while it is still dark. He holds the hearts of every man and woman who will pass that door. He can send a customer who had no thought of buying, and put a sudden need into their mind. He can clear the clouds and fetch the sunshine. You have prayed for a miracle, and you are not asking too much: miracles are the Lord’s own chosen way of showing His hand.
I recollect that poor woman, bent double for eighteen years, who could not lift herself at all, but who crawled to the synagogue because she would not give up meeting with God. Our Lord saw her, called her out, laid His hands upon her, and she stood up straight. That bent spine was no match for Him. Now, your brother is feeling bowed in his mind by these empty days, a little stooped in spirit. But Christ knows exactly where he sits in that shop, just as surely as He knew which bench the afflicted woman occupied. He is able to touch his heart and pour a quiet patience into it, and then to send the custom in. Perhaps these very days of poor trade are setting the stage for a deliverance so plain that his memory of the rain will be swallowed up in the taste of the miracle.
We are all too quick to forget the loaves and fishes of our yesterdays. The disciples saw five thousand fed from a handful of bread, and then, when a new storm blew up on the lake, they were afraid because they did not consider what He had done. But you, dear friend, can be the rememberer. You can sit with your brother and call back the times, surely there are some, when the Lord provided in ways neither of you could have forecast. A little remembrance is a mighty bolster to faith.
And here is the best of it: the God who sets prisoners free does not send them out with nothing in their hands. When He loosed the Hebrew servant, He said, “You shall not let him go away empty; you shall load him from your flock, from your threshing floor, and from your winepress”, and the giver was to do it gladly. Our Lord is a cheerful Giver. He will not deal stingily with your brother. Let your prayer be bold because His heart is large. While you wait, the everlasting arms are underneath him, underneath the quiet counter, underneath the unopened door, underneath his very soul. The rain cannot wash those arms away.
Lord Jesus, you are the great Miracle Worker still. Look upon this brother, who has shown kindness to his friend, and whose own livelihood now presses heavily. Lord, you see the rainy mornings and the hours with no one coming. Send your sunshine into his street and into his heart. Bring customers to his door in such a way that he knows you have sent them. Lift his bowed spirit, and let him taste your favor like honey on the tongue. Bless also this dear soul who watches and prays with such tender love; grant them soon the sight of your delivering power, and let their own faith be strengthened as they see you go before them both. We ask it in your name, Lord Jesus, expecting your help. Amen.