Last night I preached at a place called Kamesa, a suburb of Bujumbura located in the hills behind the city. It took us about half an hour to get there, and once we got out of the Buj traffic jams it was a pleasant drive on a winding road, with little traffic and views over the city.
The church building is located back off the road, behind some shops and down a fairly steep stony slope, but I was able to negotiate the descent ok.
Maybe about thirty people had gathered, as well as a bunch of kids around the door. They had told me that it would only be an hour service, from 6 to 7, so I was quite surprised when they handed over to me at 6.15. I had been feeling very ill all day with the on-and-off sickness that has been plaguing me for most of my time in Africa – upset tummy, super tired and achy, cold sweats – but as so often happens all that disappeared under the anointing.
I was maybe 15 minutes into my message when the power went out: no lights, no mics. I pulled out my “preaching voice” and several people turned on their phone lights, whilst others quickly grabbed candles and set them around the podium. It limited the walking about I like to do while I am preaching, as I was concerned about tripping over something or falling off the platform, but otherwise I was able to continue with no problem.
Nobody responded to the altar call for salvation, but then the pastor asked for a call for those who had been born again but had walked away, and a bunch of people came out. I asked him later if he had been able to see how many there were, and he said more than ten. I thought that was a lot in such a small gathering, but I’ll take his word on it. However many there were, it’s always a delight to see people coming back to the Lord.
When we came out of the meeting some men with guns had stretched coiled barbed wire across the road. This is something that occurs frequently in Africa, and I asked the pastor what it was about this time. He said that they were trying to prevent illegal commercial activities, but didn’t elaborate. I wondered what those activities could possibly be, but it has occurred to me just now as I write that maybe it was about drugs or illegal alcohol. I know that in some parts they produce a local brew, and I have heard that it is very potent.
Today I had a rest day, but needed to go to the ATM and the supermarket. I have been self-catering my breakfasts (mueseli and yoghurt) because I am basically doing 18/6 intermittent fasting, so by the time breakfast comes around I need something a little more substantial than bread and jam, and I needed to get more yoghurt as well as a couple of other bits. When I came back to my room, I noticed a woman coming behind me and just assumed that she was one of the other guests.
I had barely been in the room a few minutes when there was a knock on the door. It was this woman, and she was begging. I’m always conflicted about beggars – my heart wants to give to them, but my common sense says that is not a good idea. I sent her away, feeling both bad that I hadn’t helped and angry that she had invaded this private property.
Tomorrow we are going up country and will be staying overnight so I can minister in a church there on Sunday morning.