The Prayer Walk
Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:6-7 (NKJV)
I have always loved prayer walking. I don’t remember exactly when I began practicing it — perhaps about three years ago. At first, it felt simple and quiet, almost ordinary. Over time, however, I discovered how deeply I love it. I confess that I do not practice it regularly or consistently, but whenever I do, I experience peace, joy, and wholeness that nothing in this world can ever give.
The Bible says, “It is more blessed to give than to receive” (Acts 20:35). For a long time, I understood this verse mainly in material terms — giving money, food, or possessions. But “prayer walking” taught me something deeper. I found that praying for other people is one of the purest ways of giving. When you pray for someone, you place their needs before your own. You become a bridge between them and God — standing in the gap, pleading and interceding on their behalf.
To cry out to God for someone else’s breakthrough, healing, or blessing is not easy when human nature teaches us to love ourselves first. It requires us to put others before ourselves. Yet this is where prayer becomes an act of love rather than duty. Praying for others in the Spirit is a higher level of giving. You want them to be better, restored, and blessed — even beyond yourself. This is true giving. You give your heart, your time, and your faith. You give what cannot be measured. There is no purer form of giving than interceding for others in the Spirit.
Above all, when I pray for others, my deepest desire is that they would encounter Jesus — the same Jesus who lives within me, the One who makes me whole and leaves nothing lacking.
When prayer became my habit, praying itself became my joy. To understand why “prayer walking” is so precious to me, you must first know the place and the people among whom I walk.
Rain Tree Clinic (RTC) is one of the Karen hospitals located in a remote area, supported and run by Earth Mission. It is not only a clinic, but also a living community and a place of learning. Nearly 200 people live on the campus, not including patients and guests who come and go. The community is made up of staff and students who serve and study in Earth Mission programs, training young people to become Physician Associates (PAs), Engineering Technicians (E-techs), and Natural Farmers. After completing their programs, they return to serve in remote areas.
This place is well known for its greenery and life. Students, staff, and families love to grow plants. Yellow, red, pink, and white flowers can be found everywhere. Around the campus — near houses and dormitories — people grow eggplants, tomatoes, chilies, beans, okra (lady fingers), many kinds of gourds, and spices commonly used in Asian curries. There are also avocados, strawberries, guavas, mangoes, papayas, bananas, and other seasonal fruits, along with limes, lemons, and oranges. Vegetables and fruits fill the gardens, giving the whole community a feeling of abundance and care.
There is one especially delicious fruit you can find only here — notice I didn’t say taste, but find — pineapple. The pineapples grown on this land are juicy, with a perfect balance of sweet and sour, refreshing the body and filling it with vitamin C. After a meal, having pineapple as dessert is something you will always wish for.
The dormitory area is quiet during the daytime after breakfast. Around 6-7 a.m., it comes alive with sounds from the kitchen as people gather to get food. You see people carrying plates and bowls, returning to their dorms or homes to eat. In the dining room, people bump into each other, greet one another, tease, joke, talk, smile, and share laughter and joy. It is a beautiful way to begin a day. After breakfast, everyone prepares for their duties: Administration and office staff go to their offices, while students and medical staff prepare for rounds, teaching, and hospital work.
When I am here, I usually start my day very early. I begin with personal devotion and Bible study, followed by prayer. Sometimes I pray out loud; sometimes in silence with tears; sometimes in joy with smiles and laughter. Most of my prayers are for my family, the people in this community, my workplace, Earth Mission, special prayer requests on my heart, my relationships, and the countries of Myanmar and Israel.
By 7:30 a.m., I go to my desk, which is in what used to be the operating room and is now part of the education office storage area, located in the corner of one of the classrooms. When I leave my house, I pass the Year 5 girls’ dormitory on the right and the dining room on the left, followed by the Year 2 girls’ dormitory and the administration office. Along the way, I meet many people, exchanging warm smiles and greetings of “Hello” and “Good morning.”
Near the dining room is the playground, covered with green grass and offering a wide, peaceful view of the blue sky on most days. After work or classes, many staff and students gather there to play volleyball, football, badminton, and cane ball, or to run and walk for exercise, unwinding and caring for their health.
At the administration office, I turn left toward the classroom known as the Blue Classroom, named for its blue roof. That is where my desk is located. The building has two floors: The upper floor is used for classes, meetings, and worship, functioning more like a hall. Below and across from the Blue Classroom is the combined education and medical office. Next to it stands a long girls’ dormitory for Year 1, 3, and 4 students.
The boys’ dormitories are spread out along the left side of the hill. At the bottom of the hill on the right is the girls’ dormitory where I stay. Across the campus are staff houses, family homes, and many other buildings that make this place feel busy, alive, and united.
Many mornings and evenings, I take prayer walks — to talk with God, to pray for my own family, and to intercede for everyone here. But one particular prayer walk stands out as my favorite, one of the most meaningful days of my time on this campus.
It was a Saturday. I woke up very early, at 3 a.m., and spent time in personal devotion in my room. Without any prior planning, I felt a deep stirring in my heart to walk and pray over this place. Around 6 a.m., I began my prayer walk.
I stay with two beautiful sisters in soul, the cooks who serve our community faithfully. On weekdays, they wake up at 2 a.m. to prepare meals for everyone, but Saturdays and Sundays are their days off. I was careful not to make noise, grateful that they could rest a little longer on the weekends. That morning, before I left, I prayed for them and their families, something I love to do.
The campus was quiet as I passed by the dormitories. Most people were still asleep. From the kitchen, I could hear faint sounds of cooking — students on weekend duty, taking turns. The air was cold and misty. Dew covered the grass and plants, soaking the hem of my long dress. I could feel the chill as the wet fabric brushed against my heels as I walked.
That morning, I chose a different route. I started from the front gate instead of the back gate I usually take. Near the office, I turned right and passed the engineering store. Across from it lies the small garden of the administration office. Soft pink roses were blooming, delicate and beautiful, each petal adorned with dew. The cool morning air and the gentle colors felt perfectly matched.
I stood in awe, thinking of the wisdom of the Creator — how even flowers bloom at just the right time. And if He cares so beautifully for roses, how much more does He care for us, His highest creation, human beings. His grace and mercy truly endure forever.
As I passed through the front gate, I met Pu Htaw Kaw, the gatekeeper, already awake. No matter how cold the jungle mornings are, he faithfully wakes at 5 a.m. and bathes in cold water. We greeted each other quietly.
“Tharamu, it’s so early. Where are you going?” he asked.
“Just for exercise,” I replied with a smile. It wasn’t really a lie — this was a spiritual exercise.
At the end of the campus path, I turned sharply right onto a road marked in Karen as “the avoided road,” bypassing the clinic campus. This road leads to the beautiful village of Htee and beyond. It was newly built this year. During the rainy season, the red-yellow earth turns to mud, and the water we receive changes color, but despite that, the road has brought many benefits. Travel has become easier and more convenient for everyone.
Once I stepped onto that road, I was mostly alone. To my left rose a steep mountain where people climb to collect bamboo shoots and other vegetables that the forest provides. I am not good at foraging, unlike the wonderful Ywa Eh, our finance staff member, who is adventurous and skilled. She enjoys fishing, swimming, and gathering food from the forest — things I admire deeply but am not gifted in myself. I love her, and she inspires me to live more bravely and humbly in the jungle.
As I walked, I began to pray, not in a rush, but slowly, intentionally. Each step became an invitation to lift a name, a home, a story before God.
Passing above Sai Sai Poe and Zuzan’s new house, I prayed over them and their home. They were newly married. I prayed that their marriage would be rooted in the love of Jesus Christ, that grace would guide them through misunderstandings, and that joy would grow stronger with time.
Next, I passed above Law La and Kay Ra’s house. Recently, Law La had lost his wallet, with money and his ID card inside. I understood that pain deeply — I myself lost my ID card during the flooding in Chiang Mai. Without it, even renewing a passport becomes difficult. Remembering that helpless feeling, I prayed that his wallet would be found and returned to him. I thanked God for protecting this family and prayed especially for their two sweet daughters.
(After more than a month, Law La found his wallet — with money and his ID card inside — in a dry field. Some cash was not usable, but his ID card was safe. Praise the Lord for even the little things in our lives; He cares.)
I continued past Lah Ruth’s house, the neighboring homes, the girls’ staff dormitory, and Pann Yu’s house. I prayed for each person by name. Some prayers were full of words; others were quiet sighs placed into God’s hands. I prayed for students from Year 1 to Year 5, for medical, administrative, education, engineering, and transportation staff members. I asked God to guide their actions that day, to grant wisdom in their decisions, and to pour understanding and perseverance into students as they study and practice. I paused often, letting each prayer settle gently into the morning air.
Soon, I reached the preschool. The children there are simply wonderful. I love how Oscar can be so clingy with those he trusts. Sometimes he calls out, “Nyar Bway! Nyar Bway!” — which means Aunty Bway — just to say my name and nothing else. That alone fills my heart. Children are such a beautiful creation of God, each one a reminder of His joy, innocence, and creativity. I prayed for the preschool students and their teachers, that laughter would fill their days and that love would surround them as they grow.
From there, I passed above Dr. Judson’s place. He is a young Karen doctor passionate about Kingdom work — someone I speak with the least on campus, simply because he is always busy. Yet he is one of the people I pray for the most during my prayer walks. I prayed for strength in his long days, for encouragement when he feels unseen, and for moments of rest in God’s presence. I prayed for deeper communication, shared worship, and that he would know how deeply loved and respected he is, even when words are few.
As my prayer slowly came to an end, my heart felt full. I was reminded once again that loving does not always mean doing something big or grand. Sometimes, loving is simply walking, praying, and entrusting the people you love into the hands of God, again and again.
As I turned back toward the campus and walked to the right, facing it, the sun suddenly rose. Its rays fell upon my face, warming me. In my heart, I knew it was God embracing me with His love. I felt that He was meeting me in that quiet moment. Through the sunlight, I could almost see Him smiling at me, and I smiled back with my whole heart.
I heard myself whisper, “I love You, Lord. Thank You for this beautiful place and these wonderful people You have given me.”
That morning, I saw God through His creation. I felt His nearness, His joy, and His gentle calling — to keep praying, to keep walking, and to keep loving the people He has placed along my path.
