Of course it started raining. What I didn’t expect was for people to start arriving ten minutes early. That is not typical African behavior. One by one they entered the gate, wiped their feet on the towel by the door and chose a seat in the circle while liberally spreading warm greetings.
The small room in the annex of our courtyard wasn’t anything special. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling, and the paint on the walls was beginning to show its age. Still, everything was clean. And there was a tray with water, cups, and cookies. It seemed as though the environment was a total understatement. It didn’t come close to conveying the magnitude … the eternal significance … of the meeting that followed.
The girls and I walked over in the rain to introduce ourselves. We met some of the Christians in our town before, but not everyone. After a few minutes, I took the girls home and careened my neck out the window every few minutes to try to catch a glimpse of the deliberations. After about two hours, we heard familiar Fulbe praise and worship being sung to the Only True God.
It was amazing. In a tiny room in the middle of a random neighborhood, in a Muslim city, thousands of miles into the interior of Africa were a group of indigenous Christians singing to Jesus Christ, the Savior of the world.
Most beginnings are humble. We pray God will meet with our small group of believers and use them to plant a church that will reach the Fulbe of Guinea, West Africa with the Good News of Jesus Christ.