Pray for Dhaka

I live in Dhaka — a city that never slows down. From sunrise to midnight, the streets pulse with movement: rickshaws weaving through traffic, street vendors calling out, and the scent of tea and spices hanging in the humid air. The Buriganga River runs thick beside us, carrying both life and struggle. Everywhere you look, there are people — millions of stories pressed together into one relentless rhythm.

Dhaka is the heartbeat of Bangladesh — proud, creative, and resilient. Yet behind the noise and color, there’s exhaustion. Many fight daily just to survive. The poor sleep under flyovers, children beg at intersections, and garment workers pour out of factories after long hours. Still, there’s joy in small things — laughter over a shared meal, a song rising from a tin-roof church, a whispered prayer amid the chaos.

Most in Dhaka are devout Muslims; the call to prayer echoes across the city five times a day. Faith is everywhere — written on walls, spoken in greetings — yet so few know the peace of the One who can quiet the heart. For those of us who follow Jesus, faith is often quiet but steady. We meet in small gatherings, hidden from the spotlight, but alive with worship. I believe God has not forgotten this city. In the crowded markets, in the garment factories, in the refugee camps beyond the outskirts — His light is beginning to shine.

One day, I believe Dhaka will not just be known for its noise and numbers, but for its new song — a chorus of redeemed voices rising above the roar of the city, proclaiming that Jesus is Lord.