When the Pit Ponies Lost Their Way

In the coal mines of South Wales in 1904, pit ponies hauled carts through tunnels so narrow that miners guided them with a steady stream of profanity. The animals learned to respond to curses the way a family dog responds to "sit" or "stay."

Then something broke open. A twenty-six-year-old former coal miner named Evan Roberts began holding prayer meetings in Loughor, a small village where the River Loughor meets the sea. No polished sermons. No elaborate programs. Just confession, weeping, and singing that sometimes lasted until three in the morning.

Within weeks, the revival spread through the mining valleys like water through fractured rock. Taverns emptied. Magistrates found their dockets bare. Debts were repaid. Stolen goods were returned. And deep underground, the pit ponies stood confused in their traces — the miners had stopped swearing, and the animals no longer understood the commands.

This is the pattern God laid before Solomon in the night watches after the temple's dedication. "If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land." The healing of a nation does not begin in parliament or congress. It begins with God's own people on their knees, so changed from the inside out that even the animals notice the difference.