Fall of the Berlin Wall

On November 9, 1989 the Berlin Wall came down.

Many of us know and even remember the day two years earlier that U.S. President Ronald Reagan spoke the memorable words, "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall," but do we know the other story?

The story of how the people of Leipzig, East Germany prayed for peace touches my heart every time I read it so I decided to share it here in case you've never heard it.

In the spring of 1989, Christian Führer, the pastor of St. Nicholas [in Leipzig] decided one Monday evening to hold a prayer service for peace in the world. A few people attended. Pastor Führer held another prayer service the next Monday. More people attended. Into the summer, the Monday evening prayer service continued--and the numbers grew. The sanctuary of St. Nicholas can hold 1,000 people. By the end of the summer, the people were spilling out the doors. Every Monday night--no sermons, no political references--just prayers for peace.

On Monday, October 9, 1,000 people were in the sanctuary, and 70,000 more were in the streets, holding candles and singing hymns. The next Monday, October 16, there were 120,000 people praying for peace. The following Monday, there were 320,000--two thirds of the city's population. On the following Monday, 500,000 people prayed and sang for peace. Ten days later, on November 9, the Berlin Wall came down. 

Jim Munroe

The Mockingbird Devotional 

Isn't this story powerful?

May View from Dewena's Window

I go into my dressing room and pull the blinds up.

I look up the green hill to where our firstborn

lives with his sweet wife.

When they moved in he would hang Christmas lights

from the deck for me to see and fly Old Glory.

Now, without the Black Angus that once kept

the grass cropped,

nature has taken over and I only catch a glimpse

of his rooftop in winter.

I begin my prayer for the day with this firstborn

and his family.

I look to see what is in bloom today;

it changes throughout the seasons.

And then I pray for our other three children

and their families.

I look at the wall enclosing the white crabapple,

two varieties of wild azaleas we bought

in the mountains of North Carolina.

These have already bloomed,

their beauty so fleeting,

as are the tulips and daffodils that bloom first.

I think of my husband who built the bed

across the creek from my window
and planted it all

just so I could have something beautiful to look at

when I pull the blinds in the morning

and when I do my ironing.

I pray for him.

I notice that the yellow rose continues to struggle

among the larger pink bushes,

but there are always a few blooms.

I pray for my 90 year old mother,

matriarch of our family.

I pray for my sisters and their families.

I look to the left,

towards the road leading to the barn,

and notice that the white mountain azalea

is still blooming.

She's past her peak, her beauty fading,

never very noticeable anyway,

but she's there and will be back next May,

God willing.

I pray for myself and

give thanks for another May morning.