Yesterday I crossed the White Nile River. Even way back here in the Sudan, thousands of miles from Egypt, this is a pretty good-sized river and it flows fast. Images of Dr. Livingston, Ernest Hemingway, and Humphrey Bogart in the African Queen come to your mind as you cross the old iron-grated bridge. I kept wondering, as I crossed over, how long this rickety old bridge was scheduled to last. I should have taken a picture to show you, but I was more interested in the thrill of crossing the Nile and the prospect of the bridge collapsing into it.
We headed to a small church south of Juba where several pastors had come to hear this new message of revival that they had been told about. The church was little more than several poles stuck into the ground holding up sheets of corrugated iron for walls and a partial roof. Dirt floor and plastic chairs. Just like churches all over Africa.
Sometimes I wonder why the Lord has not sent me to very many large churches. I know that for one, the Spirit of God is not released as powerfully in the big auditoriums like it is in the small, out-of-the-way churches. Every blind person I have seen receive their sight has been in the rural villages. The same goes for most, not all, of the deaf, crippled, and paralyzed, some of which get healed as they step inside the tent or canopy. I am sure there are a plethora of reasons why, but I’m not sure it matters. This is where He sends me, and this is where the power of God comes down.
And here I am again. I promised God a long time ago that I would take the jobs that no one else wanted and I would go to the places nobody else would go to. He must have been wide awake and listening when I said that … I think He even wrote it down.
Hearts seem more personal here, or maybe more needy, or maybe there’s just no distractions between these people and their desperation for God. Whatever it is, they are drawn to the call. But they do not want to hear a soft American gospel – they’ve gotten enough of that and it doesn’t bring true revival. They want that old-fashioned message of repentance that they heard 50 years ago. Yes, they do know the difference. It is a shame that we do not.
That is not to say that they do not have their charlatans and opportunists. I listened to one guy get up and talk about how he is an apostle and how great his calling is. Let me tell you, if you have to wear a title around your neck so we can all know how great you are, then I am not impressed. If you have real power in God, you don’t need some stupid title. There are tons of self-proclaimed apostles and prophets of the wind running around doing their best to lie to the Church and keep her away from the altar of repentance. We have them all over America too, especially in the evangelical churches. But Jesus said that His sheep hear His voice, and these people know the difference.
I go back to this church today to talk about how to build a fire in the church. They are excited because finally here is a solution. Everyone talks about revival, but how do you get it? How do you go about to bring down that fire that will light up not only the church, but everyone around it? In America, we talk about revival, but few will do what it takes because they just are not desperate enough. But here in these little churches that are so poor they can barely pay for the lights, the world does not hold much for them. They desperately need God, and they are willing to do whatever the Word of God tells them.
As I crossed the river on my way back to the hotel in Juba, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was some message there. As a white man, I had crossed the White Nile to bring a message of revival to this dark place. Whether or not they take up the torch and spread the fire will be up to them, but I have crossed the river to strike the match.