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Everything about Zimbabwe nowadays is bleak. Harare is gloomy. Potholes cripple the already rickety public transportation system. Water shortages occur daily. Power outages are frequent and will get worse. The utility company says it needs u.s.$9 million per month to pay its bills for imported power.

People line up for basic necessities—food, gas, medicine—if they can be found, that is. Even cash is scarce. Banks run out. If you can get cash, you need a wheelbarrow to carry it home. Gideon Gono, the country's reserve bank boss, said inflation would be at 800 percent by March. "We are all millionaires," laughs a trader of foreign currency outside a Harare bus stop. He offers 1 million Zimbabwean dollars for u.s. $10.

Pessimism reigns. In Mbare, a high-density slum township near Harare, the poverty is glaring. Garbage gathers. Burst sewage pipes gape and spill. Street children roam. Residents struggle to make ends meet by peddling anything and everything.

Workers are frustrated. "The government has no clue or strategy to turn around the economy," said Lovemore Matombo, president of the Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions.

But how did Zimbabwe (Shona for house of stone), once paraded as Africa's most promising nation, become a "wasteland" and a "colossal disaster," in the words of Trevor Ncube, a local newspaper publisher?

All fingers point to Mugabe, now 82. The apparent political stagnation (many say degeneration), economic quandary (some say squandering), and general social disorder are all deeply rooted in Mugabe's 25-year rule.

Four years ago, Mugabe unexpectedly faced formidable opposition to his reelection. The Movement for Democratic Change was overtly white-supported. Mugabe said it was "the resurgence of white power." The response was severe. "Gangs armed with axes and pangas [machetes] invaded white-owned farms across the country," said one report. "Government and army trucks were used to transport them to the farms and to keep them supplied with rations once there."

The result was that no serious political or economic reform has been possible. Zimbabwe remains among the world's top-20 most-failed states, according to Foreign Policy magazine, for its weak economy, poor security, ongoing violence, and corruption. As a result, millions are at risk of severe malnutrition for the remainder of 2006.

It is a few days before Christmas, and a slender, rather tall man in a blue business suit, carrying a black briefcase, walks through the doors of the once-lavishly appointed Harare International Conference Center. He is here to lead a convention—a prayer convention. He is Alexander Chisango, pastor of a Harare church and chair of the Evangelism and Discipleship Commission of the Evangelical Fellowship of Zimbabwe (EFZ)—a member of the World Evangelical Alliance. In 2005, the EFZ called all churches in Zimbabwe to prayer for "the restoration of our nation."

As pastors take their seats, a team is already on stage leading worship. The music is a sweet combination of local choruses in indigenous languages, international contemporary tunes, and traditional hymns. Hands are raised. Knees are bent. Bibles are opened. Floors are paced. Prayer for the nation is on the minds of everyone.

The music fades. Chisango takes the pulpit. He does not mince his words. "We pledged ourselves to pray for our nation." He says the plan for the all-day event is prayer. Period. No long sermons. No networking. No coffee breaks. Just prayer for the nation. The need is urgent.

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April 2006, Vol. 50, No. 4