Mile 4: A Prophetic Promise

Beloved People of God,

After moving back to Kenya for my senior year, I was flying home for a break. Without a direct flight between the island and Nairobi, I stopped in Cameroon on my way. Landing in Douala, the port city close to Malabo, I heard from a friend that a well-known author was in Yaoundé leading a spiritual emphasis week for the group of Bible translators I’d lived with the year before. I’d recently devoured his book on God’s missionary call for His people and wanted to meet with him, speak with him. My young mind wanted to see if talking with him might help me connect some dots still at odds with what he’d written.

I changed my travel plans and jumped on a bus heading south. Although the event was already underway, I could at least catch the last day of his presentations. Halfway in the journey, however, the ancient and bent-up bus decided it had different plans. It broke down. And when I say it broke down, I don’t mean it sputtered or had a momentary lapse. I mean it ceased to be a bus. It gave up the automotive ghost. We had to wait for another bus to come to our rescue.

Hours later, now on a new bus, revving with vim and vigor, we continued on our way. I remember at last emerging from the tropical canopy grown over the highway revealing the red rolling hills of Yaoundé. I recognized the roads and quickly made my way to the church where the author was speaking. But because of the bus breakdown, I arrived during the last few minutes of his lectures. Crestfallen, I waited until most had left, hoping to say hello and be on my way. To my surprise, he made time for me. What began as a short greeting became a dialogue. We traded questions and theological perspectives. We moved beyond the surface of doctrinal etiquette into personal applications in our lives. We marveled together as Jesus revealed to us God’s sovereignty in the midst of our humanity. We were two disciples on an African road to Emmaus receiving Christ’s prophetic hope.

For His Name’s Sake,

Brett