For the rest of that month the sense of God’s power grew and grew, affecting the whole community of Nant Gwynant – before spreading into Beddgelert – and then into Nantmor. There wasn’t a single family in the whole area that was not touched by it. People just wanted to be together, listening to preaching, praying and worshipping God – setting aside the things that they normally spent time on, which seemed so insignificant in comparison. Miracles took place daily. People heard the angels singing. Lives were turned around. Beddgelert was a totally different place to live – a better place, a more wholesome place.
It seemed as if God had poured out his Holy Spirit onto the mountains and that it had streamed down from there into Nant Gwynant, into Beddgelert, and then out from there to Porthmadog, Caernarfon, Blaenau Ffestiniog. Dolwyddelan, Anglesey and, eventually, across the whole of North Wales.
Of course, it hadn’t lasted at that fever pitch. Gradually, things settled down again. But there was no doubt that things were different, better, special – and that did last for many years. He knew that in the year of our Lord 1817 his life had been changed totally. He could never be the same again. He didn’t want to be the same again. And now, as the 20th century was fast approaching, he could see that God again needed to visit his people in this place, to pour out his Spirit on the mountains above Beddgelert. How quickly people forgot. How quickly they went back to their old selfish ways.
As he stood leaning against the rock, the rock that had always been there, he prayed. He prayed fervently. He prayed that God would come in power once again.