More from Owar Ojha Ojulu

In June 1998, I faced one of the biggest challenges of my life: the death of my mother. Her passing not only marked a significant loss but also became a pivotal moment in my spiritual journey, helping me to wrestle with and ultimately understand the nature of God. My mother had been admitted to a health center for several weeks, initially diagnosed with tuberculosis. However, I later learned that she had actually succumbed to congestive heart failure, as her lungs had filled with fluid. The circumstances leading up to her illness were complicated; my father had taken a second wife, forcing my mother to leave our household and move to a hut in another part of the village. Growing up, I had spent my childhood and teenage years primarily with her, as my siblings had married and begun their own families.

During the time my mother was in the health clinic in a rural western part of Ethiopia, I prayed fervently for her recovery, hoping for a miracle. Yet, despite my hopes, I was struck by an unsettling realization: God communicated to me three nights in dreams that my mother would not recover. This revelation plunged me into despair. My mother was my sole support, providing not just emotional care but also school materials and clothing, while my father focused on his other children. I found myself questioning God’s motives and power, grappling with the disheartening thought that my faith might be in vain. Then I stopped attending church, reading the Bible, and praying, feeling as if I had embarked on my own “Emmaus Road,” a path of disillusionment and spiritual wandering (see Lk. 24:13-35).

As the weeks passed, my grief felt like an insurmountable obstacle. However, in mid-August, God intervened in an unexpected way. One day, while sitting in my hut, I witnessed a small lightning bug. Its faint glow gradually intensified into a dazzling light, and I heard a voice that pierced through my sadness. The voice assured me, “Owar, I will take care of you.” This moment was accompanied by an echo of Colossians 1:9, which emphasized the importance of prayer and the pursuit of God’s wisdom and understanding. Following this experience, however, the light vanished, and darkness enveloped the hut. Confusion and fear gripped me.

When dawn broke, I gathered the courage to recount everything that had transpired. My friend, who listened intently, was astonished by my revelation. This pivotal moment marked the beginning of my healing journey. I repented for turning away from God and made the decision to return to church, rekindling my spiritual life through Bible reading and prayer. This recommitment brought me a sense of peace and restored hope.

As the new school year approached, I dedicated myself to my studies once again. The challenges were enormous, but through perseverance and faith, I managed to graduate—a testament to God’s guidance and gracious love in my life, despite the adversities I faced. My mother’s memory and the lessons I learned during that painful time have since become a cornerstone of my faith—a confirmation that even in our darkest hours, we can find light, support, and a way forward through God’s love and assurance of God’s continued presence.