Itís 7am and I am sitting in a makeshift cafť on a corner in Kaduna, Nigeria. You should have seen this guy fix me up this cup of coffee. First he slammed a plastic cup on the table, shoveled in a spoonful of Nescafe, and then scooped out a cup of hot water out of a pot on his open-air stove. After pouring it through a strainer into the cup (which I have to admit, made me wonder what he was straining out of the water), he then proceeded to pouring the water from one cup into the other from a distance of 3 feet. It was quite a display of culinary showmanship, much like the Japanese guys that do that thing with the knives at your table. Somehow, it seemed to make the coffee taste better.
This is a busy street corner, and it isnít long before a traffic cop shows up. Nigerian drivers are a pushy lot and they need someone to corral them and sort out their busy flow of motorbikes and Toyotas. Every once in a while there is an driver who tries to slip past the traffic cop, and I laugh as I watch the cop scold them like a parent with an errant child, rapping them on the head as they drive by.
School kids file by in their distinctive school uniforms. Each school has its own color, some are standard colors like Navy, Maroon, or Forest Green, but others can take on wilder shades like Hot Pink, bright Turquoise, and neon Chartreuse. I guess they are used to it, but there is no way you would have gotten me into one of those suits when I was a kid growing up. Iíll bet some mother somewhere thinks they look cute. Poor kids.
Kaduna is a real city in comparison with the places weíve been in lately. We were in the boondocks for so long that our driver got in trouble with his chief. He stopped on the way through town to apologize for being absent, and almost got 20 lashes from the chief. Thatís how strong the concept of the village chief is here. The fact that he was driving a whiteman around saved him, though. Thatís what kind of special treatment I get here Ö and thatís nothing compared to how they treat me when I come to church.
Weíre in Kaduna almost by accident. Our existing schedule had fallen through for some reason, so a phone call to one of Danielís friends connected us to a pastor in this city. After meeting with us, they immediately put together an impromptu meeting in one evening, and by morning they had over 80 pastors at the church. That just goes to show you how God can open doors when He wants to get His message out.
All three meetings were stunning. The place was packed for each service, with the whole place hanging on every word. They know that the message I am bringing to them is from God. Itís as if they have been waiting for it to come, and now that it is here they donít want to miss anything.
They are ready to seek the face of God for revival. Repentance is the key to any revival, and they are ready for it.
Pray for me that the power of the Holy Ghost continues to flow through me like a river. Day after day, I stand on the pulpit and the messages pour out of me like the river of sweat that soaks my shirts each night. You donít feel it that much after the first few, but after 30 or so services, I feel drained, and this mission is so important that I cannot fail. I must accomplish what is set before me no matter what happens, no matter how hard, no matter what it costs.
The battle for Nigeria has begun, and Nigeria is the opening salvo for the rest of AfricaÖand Africa will birth the revival for the rest of the world.
I cannot fail.