Not again.

The SMS beeped on my phone at 8.19 PM last night.

I was washing dishes.

The SMS was from a friend telling me he would not be able to come to our home for the regular Wed. nite men's prayer meeting

"Bro i cant come today here very tight traffic bcoz of blast"

Because of blast?

A minute later I called up Jolly (one of our elders).

Yes. 3 bombs went off in Mumbai. 20 dead so far. Many injured. Rush hour. Crowded market places.

I felt sick. The whole day the rain had been pouring down. Things were pretty grey. And now this.

Sheba was with the kids. What to tell. Another blast. Should I wait till the kids sleep? But they will find out anyway. In I go. Tell the news. Another blast.

The BBC website tells us that 21 are dead - so far - and over 100 injured. Over the next few days their stories will drip in. Some will die. Some will be maimed. Some will fade away. More numbers to the cruelty of the human heart.

What a world Asha and Enoch are growing up in. One where parcels are to be feared. Where the news flashes and then people pick up their phones to check if everyone is accounted for and ok.

How long till I know someone personally who has died in a blast? Pakistan has seen over 30,000 people killed by fellow Pakistanis over the past decade. We are not as high in this sorry contest - but the drip drip drip of killing continues.

We were three of us who met for prayer last night. Three men praying from 9.30 to 10.30 as we do every Wed. night. Three men calling out to God as the rain pounded down in the darkness outside.

Come Lord Jesus and set things right. Come Judge and King and Restorer. We need you more than ever. The brutality of yesterday tells us this again and again.