Missionary Ventures in East Africa

 

 

 

I had an unforgettable experience some time back whilst with a team. We were about to confirm God’s power and authority in a clash between light and darkness.

We visited a village church in a remote area of Uganda. We worshipped together and prophesied that this place would be the centre of a local church-planting ministry. We broke ground and gave building materials. There was much celebration. By the time we prayed and said farewell light was fading. We drove down a dirt track and into a neighbouring village where people were trading along the roadside. I was driving, with Mike Snitker next to me, and two indigenous pastors in the back. An SUV was in front carrying other team members. The distance between us was increasing, leaving a trail of dust behind.

A short distance ahead on the left of us suddenly appeared a small girl in a pink dress running along the road with her back to us. She then ran across the road directly in front of us, seemingly drawn by an invisible hand into the path of our vehicle. I honked the horn and braked hard but the girl kept on coming and we hit her in the back. She landed hard on the hood and somersaulted over the windscreen onto the ground to my right.

We were stationery when I instinctively went to get out the car and see how she was. She appeared to be dead and a crowd was rapidly forming. They were shouting at us to get out of the car. A man came in front of the car with an eighteen-inch machete knife used for cutting wood, fruit and meat. We were the butcher’s next victims.

A pastor shouted from behind, "RUN, RUN, THEY WILL KILL US!" I instantly agreed and pulled away fast. The mob threw rocks at the car. A door handle was pulled off as someone tried to enter by force. We drove furiously with all passengers praying and calling on God to help us. We were anxious to find the police to gain security from the mob who would surely chase and kill us.

An evil presence seemed to be hovering over that place with dusk and fading light. We learned later that Islam dominates that village and witchcraft is prevalent in the area – the two are often synchronized in Africa. Mike had a front seat view of the ordeal. He confirmed my perception that the girl could never have survived such an impact, and that it was impossible for me to have avoided her. We had been ambushed by demonic power.

We drove about three miles from the accident, where there was a police roadblock. As soon as we stopped a crowd gathered around our vehicle. The police shouted for me to get out of the car and arrested me, taking me to their small candlelit room. I was alone under armed guard. The police threatened to shoot at the crowd to keep them from getting hold of me. It was here that Luther got one bar on his mobile phone and called his office in the UK for urgent prayer. Within a short time, people were praying all around the world.

A truck that had been following us reached the scene of the accident later and was told that a little girl had just been hit and killed by a car. The driver offered to take the girl to the hospital but the crowd refused saying she was already dead.

That night we believed together as a team, that God would raise the girl to life. In the night I remembered the story of Jesus, when he told Jairus's daughter to get up (Mk 5:21-24, 35-43).

We arrived back at the police station the next morning with sorrow in our hearts for the family who lost their child. Amazingly, we were informed that the girl was alive and in a local hospital. We went to visit and inspect her condition. Seven-year-old Fatuma was definitely alive and conscious. There were no broken bones anywhere. It was an emotional time as we prayed and thanked the living God in the presence of the girl and her Muslim family and shared Christ’s love with them.

As Jesus spoke to the people around Jairus, he could have been talking to us: "Don't be afraid, just believe!" (Mk 5:36). He sees things differently to us and is not flustered by our strongest enemies – even death. Like Jairus's daughter, Fatuma wasn't dead, just asleep.

We had escaped death along with that precious little girl and been witnesses to the power of God at work through the prayers of the saints.