A Glory Day

Yesterday was a glory day. We rose at 4:40 a.m., after loading the car with supplies and picking up our travelers, we were off to Bulungu, the local government center. Nkara is in the district of Bulungu, in the province of Bandundu.

Bulungu is the kind of town you can spend a week in in one night. Various and sundry "tax-collectors" come from Bulungu to attempt to levy some sort of fine on the mission here. They usually visit Nkara only when we are here, figuring that our presence equates to money. As mentioned in the past, two of our graduates minister to the police. They travel many miles on foot each month. God is doing amazing things through His word in and to the policemen and their wives. We decided to visit the large group of men and women in Bulungu, look them in the eye, share our testimony and the Scriptures, and watch the Lord work. The 30 miles took us 2 1/2 hours one way, over dirt roads, which led us to the Kwilu River. We made our crossing in an oversized raft, driven by a diesel-generated tugboat. Hand-dug tree canoes fight the strong current of the massive Kwilu for those who choose not to take the raft. To my mind returned the vivid memory of our family crossing the crocodile-infested river years ago in one of those crude canoes when the ferry was not working.

Everyone got out of the car and the driver eased our vehicle onto the ferry. We followed and reached the other side uneventfully. A half hour later, we arrived at the post and received a royal welcome.

About 200 policemen and their wives listened intently as Pastor Ezekiel from Psalm 2:1-12 and Jim shared the story of the forty wrestlers. I spoke from Romans 11:33-36 and Romans 12:1 to the wives. 90 men and women put their hands over their hearts to signal their acceptance of Jesus Christ. The Major is a Christian and begged us to come back. Their animated singing and infectious enthusiasm delighted our hearts. The Lord's heart had to be moved as well.

After the service we were ushered into the modest headquarters and served Cokes and cherry and orange sodas. The Major then begged us for Bibles and radios. He acknowledged his observance that poverty-stricken are we if we feed only our physical bodies and fail to feed our souls. His words refreshed us like cool springs on a blistery-hot day.

Pastor Ezekiel knows these men well because he was one of them for years, while his wife prayed faithfully for his salvation. He met Jesus and graduated from our Bible Institute. He vividly recalls the atrocities commonly practiced by the police and soldiers in Congo, so his burden for them is sincere. Yesterday he told me how unreceptive they were at first. Now he and Pastor Hosea are well-received. The men and women have learned many of the Christian songs and sing them with vigor. One big change among the leadership of the police these days is the forbidding of beating a person, guilty or not guilty, and ravaging the women after robbing the men. Instead, they bring to their offices only those they think are guilty and do not proceed with a punishment until after they have prayed for wisdom. He said this is all so new to the police. "We preach the Word of God and then we just keep adding more and more to what we have taught them. Eventually, we see change."

We had no money in the budget for bikes for Ezekiel and Hosea, but we bought bikes anyway at a cost of $230. Who in the world could look them in the eye, pat them on the back, wish them God's speed, and expect them to simply keep walking to Bulungu and the other posts every month.

Pray that the government with be open to the powerful gospel of Jesus Christ by allowing us to minister to the police division. Amen!