This is my last night in Bujumbura, and in Burundi. Tomorrow I begin my journey to Benin. Because of difficulties with connections, this means flying first to Nairobi (Kenya), then to Kigali (Rwanda) and then on to Benin. Whilst I am leaving tomorrow, I won’t arrive in Benin till Wednesday afternoon. This is a bit of a pain, given that there were direct flights from Buj to Kigali, but it may be that the Lord has gone ahead of me in this. Apparently Burundi is closing the border with Rwanda. I had to fill out a document for my departure (which I only learned about today) and it is possible that if I had been going direct to Rwanda they would not have let me leave the country.
The last couple of days have been challenging. The church in Kibimba where I ministered yesterday was big, I would guess around 400 in the congregation. They had choir after choir bringing items – at least seven or eight of them. Their performances were good, but they were just that: performances. I was seated at the front with all the “dignitaries”, and I looked out over the congregation my heart was grieved. I sensed that many of the people were not there to worship, but just to enjoy a concert. I tried to break through in my preaching, but it felt like there was a massive religious spirit sitting over the place and laughing at me. I felt I had made absolutely zero impact on it, and I felt totally battered.
Overnight and into this morning it got worse. The enemy kept mocking me: Where is this great apostolic authority? This apostolic power? What makes you think you are an apostle? You are not an apostle’s bootlace! The attack was so heavy that I felt like I was being physically beaten. This morning I shot out urgent prayer requests to my prayer partner and our KOGMI intercessors.
By lunchtime I was beginning to gain the victory. Then God did one of His lovely little tricks. I think I have said that almost everyone here speaks only French, not English. At lunchtime one of the young nuns decided to practice her English by chatting with me. She asked what I do, and I told her that I am a minister and visiting the churches. When I later told her that tomorrow I will be going on to Benin, then Ghana, Liberia and Kenya before returning to Australia, she said, “Oh! You are an apostle!” That’s the last thing I expected to hear from a Catholic nun. OK, Father, message received!
So Kibimba is beautiful, but I’m praying for the Holy Spirit to breakthrough there.
Tonight I ministered at a place called Buterere, one of the suburbs of Bujumbura. Only a small congregation, maybe thirty or so. One lady recommitted her life to Jesus, so it was a great note on which to end my time in Burundi.
A few closing thoughts on Buj: it’s a beautiful city, very clean and green. The trees pictured are everywhere. At first I thought they grew like that, but then I saw some that had not been shaped. They prune them into that shape from the time they are very small, and continue pruning the lower branches as they grow.
Traffic is appalling, and drivers have the same kamikazi attitude as in other African countries, but without the politeness. Here drivers are rude and aggressive, and horns are used in much the same way as they are in Australia.
There is a distinct French influence, seen in cobbled streets and some aspects of the food, as well as the language. Overall, it is the most westernized of the countries I have been in on this trip.