This morning I preached at one of the churches here in Bujumbura. It was basically a prayer meeting, with maybe about thirty people, mostly women. There was some great worship, again with only a traditional drum as the musical accompaniment. Sometimes the harmonies these people sing remind me so much of my time in Papua New Guinea – there is a real “island” sound about it.
I had a prophetic word for one woman whom the Lord highlighted to me during the worship. He had no sooner given me the word than this woman began to dance frantically, and ended up falling – I’m not sure whether it was under the power of the Spirit, or simple exhaustion. In any case, her behaviour was a confirmation to me of the word the Lord had given me, and her reaction when I delivered it was further confirmation.
The Lord had led me to speak on the extent of our salvation, and as has now become my habit I gave an altar call for salvation at the end. Nobody responded at first, but the minute I extended the call to any who had prayer needs, one woman was out of her seat. She responded so quickly that I was not sure whether she was coming for the first call or the second, so I asked my interpreter to ask her. It turned out that she had been born again, but when she moved to a different area she had fallen away, and now she wanted to come back to the Lord. Hallelujah! One of God’s kids coming home is something to get excited about.
Meanwhile, I had been terribly conflicted about the Congo. Part of me said that the fact that there has been so many problems with me getting there, between the visa dramas and now transport woes, that maybe it was an indication that God wants to do something really great in Congo. But another part of me said that maybe all this was a warning to stay away. I had a really bad feeling in my spirit (which should have been enough, but anyhoo …) Because I was going to have to get US cash for the ship fare, I put out a bit of a “fleece” that if the ATM was open and I could get the cash with no problem, I would go, but if I couldn’t I would take it as a sign to not go. I got the cash, but still didn’t feel good. “Fleeces” are a very poor way of determining the will of God, and I should have known better.
I had not heard from the Congolese pastor whether they had confirmed the ship returning on Thursday, so I messaged him asking if they had. His reply was, “Yes. But is coming back on Wednesday, not on Thursday. The one coming back on Thursday is not good.” Really? And exactly when were you planning to tell me this, if I had not specifically asked? I messaged back to say that meant I would have only one day of ministry there, which was simply not practical.
He replied that I would arrive on Monday, do a service Monday afternoon, do two services on Tuesday and another Wednesday morning before returning Wednesday afternoon. All this with a twelve-hour boat trip with very little sleep on either end of it. By now I was really cranky with him. I reminded him of my age, cancelled the trip, and told Domitien I would be staying her in Burundi for another week. I’m here to work, and I don’t mind working hard, but I do need to give some consideration to my body – and I remember how sick I was after similar demands were put on me in Uganda.
This means I will be moving house on Monday. The cottage where I have been staying was only booked for two weeks, and nice as it is I really can’t afford it for another week. Besides which, I would like somewhere where I can actually access the internet using the sim card I bought with such drama on my arrival. Domitien took me to a place he knows, a convent that lets rooms, and I have booked in there for the next week. The room is small but adequate, and if my currency conversion is correct, it will only cost me around $10 a day. More about it when I get there.
The Cottage where I have been staying
On our way back from the convent, out of the blue Domitien asked me if I eat ice-cream. He had no way of knowing it, but I have been craving ice-cream for weeks! He took me to an ice-cream parlor and treated me to a large cup of vanilla/chocolate swirl. I felt this was a “kiss from Daddy”* and a confirmation that I had made the right decision about Congo.
* “Kisses from Daddy” is a term that I use for those small, unexpected and totally unnecessary but utterly delightful surprises that Father God brings into my life every so often.