Missions Ramblings
When God sends you to serve somewhere, whether overseas or next door, you can be sure that an adventure awaits. In 1987, we embarked on a journey of a lifetime as missionaries in Africa. Our first stop was in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC, formerly known as Zaire), where we learned the essentials of living cross-culturally. We studied customs, languages, and how to navigate in the new world we found ourselves in. Then, in 1991, God called us to plant a church in Burundi. That was when things truly got interesting. We didn’t know much about the country; we only knew that we were called to plant a church.
We boarded a plane headed for Bujumbura, Burundi, and found ourselves in a complicated situation we were unprepared to face. We had heard about tensions in Burundi and nearby nations, but we paid little attention. That is, until two months after we arrived, when we experienced the first of many nights filled with gunfire and explosions.
Thirty-eight years later, as I write this, I now have the perspective of age and experience. Let me share a bit about this region of Africa so you can better understand the story I’m about to tell.
The Great Lakes Regional Wars of the 1990s
In the early 1990s, civil wars broke out in several countries in Africa’s Great Lakes Region, including the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), Rwanda, Burundi, and Uganda. The Rwandan genocide, during which nearly 1,000,000 people died in 1994 over 100 days of violence (called the “100 Days of Slaughter”), quickly brought the Great Lakes Region to the world’s attention. Suddenly, the world became aware of the turmoil in this part of Africa.
The DRC has a long history of civil unrest. While the unrest of the 1990s in the DRC has faded into history, violence and the after-effects of the fighting have caused the deaths of over 6,000,000 people, surpassing the total number of lives lost in the Rwandan war and matching the totals of the Holocaust.
Uganda, although not facing the violence of its neighbors, was still affected by the influx of refugees from these countries. According to UNHCR, the country hosts over 1.7 million refugees, many from the DRC, Burundi, and Rwanda. The effects on the nation, which endured severe oppression under Idi Amin in the 1970s, have been significant.
The small nation of Burundi, where our family had relocated, fell into civil war in 1993 when the first democratically elected president was assassinated. Violence engulfed the country, which is roughly the size of Maryland, until October 2001, when Nelson Mandela successfully united warring parties to sign a peace agreement. The war caused an estimated death toll of 300,000.
When God sends you, expect the unexpected
It was to this region that God called our young family, and the call came with a special grace. For some reason, God kept us in Burundi even though all common sense said we should have left. When the president was assassinated in October 1993, our church was still young, barely two years old. We had seen it grow from zero to nearly 500 members in a short time. If we left, we wondered, “What were our people going to do? Who was going to lead them?”
War is a strange thing; it doesn’t affect a nation all at once. It rises and falls. Even though we heard gunfire in the distance for months after the assassination, it was still far from the city. Bujumbura continued to live in a tense, yet somehow normal, way. But that was about to change.
One Thursday afternoon in May 1995, while I was out with my son visiting his friends, the distant gunfire we were used to hearing suddenly grew very loud. The friends we visited lived on a hill that offered a good view of the city. From their back porch, I saw smoke rising from Bwiza, the impoverished neighborhood where our church was located.
I quickly picked up my son and drove to my daughter’s preschool, which was next to our house. Parents hurried to the school to pick up their children. A parent in military uniform told me, “They’re coming to raze the city!”
I took my daughter and hurried into the house. Jamie then left to pick up our oldest from school, leaving me with our daughter and our youngest, still a toddler. When he returned a few minutes later, our eyes met. We both knew that life was about to change.
Scenes from a movie
The night that followed was terrifying. The area where our church was located was taken over. Armored vehicles aimed directly at homes, and people were fleeing for their lives. Some church members made their way to our house, and we filled our small three-bedroom, one-and-a-half-bathroom home with those who had nowhere else to go.
Just two days later, we cautiously made our way to the church. We had scheduled a prayer meeting for that morning, and we were eager to see if anyone still needed our help. At first, it seemed we wouldn’t be able to make it. Soldiers lined the streets and harassed anyone who crossed their path. With determination, we found a long route around through some back roads. The scene we encountered will never leave me. Civilians were rushing to leave their battered homes with whatever they could carry. Fires from the nights of fighting still burned. Spent bullet casings littered the ground of our outdoor meeting area. It felt as if we were watching scenes from a movie.
Slowly but surely, a few of our members trickled in after hearing we were at the church. They started sharing what they had experienced during the nights of fighting. One older man, Papa Marcel, walked in and held our hands tightly; tears filled his eyes.
He was one of the first members of our church, and we were all relieved to see each other. He lived just a few streets from the church in a house he had owned for many years. He had raised his family, and several of his children had moved to Europe and the USA. But he and his wife stayed behind in their family home in Bwiza.
When God sends you to places of gunfire
During times like these, when the worst of humanity is visible, the light of Jesus shines brightest through His people. While I would never want to relive those days, the lessons learned during that period are invaluable.
The following Sunday, after the violence erupted in Bwiza, our church service had 56 attendees, down from the 500 who had attended the previous week. Of those, 16 came from our house. The atmosphere was unlike anything we’d experienced before. The sound of gunfire in the background heightened the tension.
Jamie’s message that morning came from 2 Kings 6:16 (NKJV):
“So he answered, ‘Do not fear, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them.’”
A sense of faith grew in the congregation, almost tangible. People began singing, dancing, and testifying about God’s protection over them. Jamie declared, “This is our time; this is what we are here for—to announce the gospel in the darkness.”
The grace of God had sustained us, and we decided to plant our feet on the ground and be a light in the darkness. “We’re staying!” Jamie said. And with that, Papa Marcel stood up and declared, “If the pastor and his family can stay, so will I.”
Then God sends revival
In the months that followed, our small church experienced a revival unlike anything I’ve seen before or since. Hearts yearning for Jesus gathered at our humble facility to meet Christ. Papa Marcel was at the forefront, urging people to surrender their lives to Jesus, never missing a service or a chance to share the gospel. Gradually, the church began to grow again.
We settled into an abnormal normal. Living under such circumstances isn’t normal, but we did. What was initially terrifying became standard, and once again, life went on. To help confront the fear that crept in, we printed copies of Psalm 91 for our people to pray every day.
Some weeks after the initial increase in violence, youth gangs called the “Sans Echec” (without defeat) started roaming the streets. There were days when they would order a “Ville Morte” (dead city). This meant no one was to leave their homes. If anyone tried to move around, they would threaten or even kill them. They also threatened people and their homes, robbing whoever they could. Their goal was to spread fear, and they were very good at it.
Sans Echec and Psalms 91
The Sans Echec targeted Papa Marcel’s house. He refused to leave or submit to their threats. Every day, without fail, he would take the paper we handed out from Psalm 91 and pray for himself, his wife, and his home. He trusted God and refused to cower.
One afternoon, the Sans Echec had had enough of Papa Marcel’s stubbornness, so they threw a grenade at his house. What they didn’t know was that at the exact moment they threw the grenade, he was kneeling beside his bed, praying Psalm 91. The explosion tore through the room where he had been praying.
Because he was kneeling, the force of the blast went over his head. He was unharmed except for a small piece of shrapnel that injured the smallest finger on his right hand. As he came out of his house unharmed, the Sans Echec ran shouting, “Your God is God!” One of them knelt before Papa Marcel and asked him to help him receive Jesus. They never bothered him again.
Papa Marcel’s finger stayed bent at an angle for the remainder of his life. He said it was a reminder of God’s protection during those difficult years.
When God sends you to the unsung heroes
The war ended, and a measure of peace returned to Burundi in 2001. Papa Marcel’s wife passed away peacefully at their home a few years later. Finally, after years of faithfully serving the church, Papa Marcel, having lived a long and fulfilling life, left his beloved home and joined his son in New York. His son doted on him until he died.
Papa Marcel and others like him are the unsung heroes of faith you’ve never heard of. They serve without expecting a follow, like, or share. They wait for us on the other side when our work is done. Thank you, Papa Marcel. You served us and your generation well, and we will never forget you.
Lea Peters
As missionaries serving with our young family, we saw firsthand how meaningful it was when Scripture moved beyond the words on a page and became something our children could hold and remember. Simple tools helped make those moments lasting and real. One such tool is Memory Cross, which helps children engage with Scripture in a way that stays with them.
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