Rolland & Heidi'sNewsletters

26 December 2005

I can hear the waves of the Indian Ocean softly wash up on the rocks and coral of Pemba's beach out in the dark. The air is warm and still. All is peaceful at our funky, thatched house far to the north in Mozambique. And it is three a.m., time to rise. I have more than a thousand miles to travel today on a tight schedule. Soon headlights are shining through our gate through the trees. My ride to the airport is here.

I quietly load my baggage into the Land Rover and we make our way over ruts and sand until we reach a main road and pass by our center. All is quiet and deserted on the streets. We drive up sloping terrain and reach the airport on a hill overlooking Pemba and its huge, pristine bay that is hardly used. We continue past the tiny terminal building and move out onto the tarmac to our Cessna 206 parked beside a few larger commercial aircraft. My three passengers help me as I load the plane, using a flashlight to see. A security guard wanders over to investigate, but we are okay.

The sky begins to glow and lighten in the east, outlining silvery layers of clouds just above the horizon with orange and red. The control tower is closed, but I have filed my flight plan and paid my fees the night before. Our engine breaks the night silence as it starts, and we taxi out to the runway in a mounting sea breeze. We lift off smoothly and line up on a course that slowly takes us away from the coastline toward the central Mozambican city of Beira, our first stop, four-and-a-half hours to the south.

The rising sun brings brilliance to the canopy of beauty that envelopes us. Clouds, exquisitely designed and placed by the Creator, approach us and then flash by with a burst of exhilaration. Hills, rivers and wildness pass below us. I level off at eight thousand feet and trim for cruise. There is no one to talk to on the radio, so I fill our noise-canceling headsets with rich worship music... On we travel in cozy, smooth comfort, each one of us lost in our own thoughts and prayer.

Once again I am thinking of the Makua, a people group of four million living in remote huts scattered far below us, and how God has so graciously been concentrating His attention on them in the last several years. I dwell on what our Good Shepherd has been doing all over southeast Africa since we arrived in Mozambique over ten years ago. In power and glory He has been finding lost sheep and revealing the Kingdom in ways we never dreamed we would see. All our lives we have pressed toward revival, and now we are overwhelmed with a movement that has grown far beyond our natural ability to watch over.

The harvest field is ripe and ready in Africa. The poor know they need the true and living God, and when they meet Him in Jesus, they run to Him. They do not refuse. They are not hardened. They know that finally they have found the desire of their hearts. This Jesus who heals the incurably blind and sick in their villages is Eternal Love. They want to know more. They want to draw closer. They want pastors, churches and Bible school now. They can't get enough. They shout, dance, sing and worship with wild energy because Jesus is worthy. They know they cannot overdo their passion for Him. And He responds to them with His Spirit...

Every three months our five Bible schools are filled with new pastors and students from the bush. It is amazing to watch Jesus bring them, more at every session. It is life-changing to watch entire villages come to Jesus as soon as they see His love and power. The Kingdom has come upon us when pagan, syncretistic chiefs grab our microphones and shout to their own people, "This is real! No one could do this but God! Listen to these Christians!"

An insistent, insatiable hunger for the Spirit-filled Christian life and increasing revival is spreading across Africa. Hearing of what the Spirit is doing among us, the desperate are urgently calling us to more countries. Bush conferences are in constant demand. Leaders want input, encouragement, direction and fellowship. The people are starving for God, especially in devastated, war-torn countries. With all the cultural richness of their choirs, robes, rhythm and ways, and the promises of health and wealth they have heard, they know they have nothing without His Presence and companionship.

As we fly on, I consider the intensity of the Christmas we just experienced this year, and how it so perfectly illustrates the coming of the Kingdom to the poor of Africa...

A CHRISTMAS REPORT