The Miners Who Could Not Stop Singing

In 1904, a twenty-six-year-old Welsh coal miner named Evan Roberts stood before a small congregation in Loughor and spoke with trembling conviction about the saving power of God. Within weeks, something extraordinary swept through the valleys of South Wales. Coal miners — men who descended daily into darkness, their faces blackened with dust — began singing hymns underground. The sound of praise echoed through the tunnels of the Rhondda Valley before the morning shifts even began.

The revival transformed entire communities. Pubs emptied. Police reported so little crime that officers formed quartets to sing at revival meetings. Pit ponies in the mines reportedly stopped working because they no longer recognized commands — the miners had stopped swearing and started praying. By 1905, over 100,000 people across Wales had professed faith, and news of what God was doing spread to nations around the world.

These were not comfortable church people offering polite praise. They were laborers who had discovered a well deep enough to sustain them in the darkest shafts of life. Their joy was not fragile or sentimental — it was forged in coal dust and calloused hands.

Isaiah invites us into that same defiant gladness: "With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation." When the Living God becomes your strength and your song, you cannot keep quiet about it. You proclaim His deeds. You shout it aloud. The well never runs dry, even in the deepest dark.