Cynthia and I have been on the road for a long time now. We miss our family here, and we are getting pretty tired of the road, but until December we will continue to be domg programs mostly in the western United States. On this last trip we did a lectureship with a Navajo Indian congregation in Tuba City, Arizona, where Paul Ghee is the minister. Paul told me from the start that he wanted me to participate in an Navajo sweat lodge. I expressed doubt, but agreed to try because he thought it would impress the local Navajos.

The night we got there before the lectureship was to start, we were told that the sweat lodge was set up' and both of us could attend. Cynthia was all for it, but I still had my doubts. We drove some 15 miles out of town and then several miles across the desert until we came to what looked like an igloo made out of mud instead of ice. It was about 15 feet in diameter and in the center was a pile of very hot rocks that had been in a fire for many hours. The master of the lodge threw water on the rocks periodically so that the humidity was extremely high in addition to the temperature being maybe 150 degrees. A cowskin covered the door, and it was thrown back so we could enter and then sit cross legged on the floor. I went in and plopped down and looked around. There were a dozen people in the small room ranging from a seven-year-old child to a 80-year-old woman. As the cowskin closed, I realized I was not going to be able to sit in this environment for 90 minutes. I could not breath well, I was clostrophobic, and I hate heat, so I said I would participate from outside the lodge and excused myself. My wife said she would stay, saving face for her rather pathetic husband, and she did.

We have been studying prayer in Bible class on Sunday morning. What happened here was that everyone told of someone or something they wanted to pray for, with everyone sharing family problems, dreams, and hopes for the future. After everyone had voiced their prayer requests, everyone began praying out loud for every request that had been made except their own. As I sat there listening to a mixture of Navajo and English, children's and old timers' voices I thought about how God would view this kind of prayer. After an hour everyone came out of the lodge covered with sweat, united in spirit, and closer to one another having shared life and worship. I am sure God smiles at His purpose in prayer being fulfilled in a unique way. --John Clayton