The brothers in Lubumbashi, D.R.C. had warned me of the seedy elements infesting the Kasumbalesa border crossing between Zambian and Congo. I was still caught off guard by the tempest in which I found myself being hussled and jived in every conceivable manner. After having contributed substantially to the local economy and finally finding myself on the Congo side of the border, I deeply connected to Paul's feelings as he faced Corinth. As no one from the church was there to meet me (with 100 kilometers to go to Lubumbashi) and as the local loiterers were beginning to perceive me as a target, I thought to myself, "I'd better blend." Then remembering my lineage, I realized that THAT just wasn't happening. Suddenly a lady - whose face looked strangely familiar - appeared out of the crowd calling my name and pointing to a vacant seat in a taxi. Overjoyed with a way of escape, I assumed that she was from the church in Lubumbashi and was sent to help me. So I jumped in the taxi, and off we went. A kilometer or so down the road, I thanked her for coming to pick me up. She replied, "I didn't come to pick you up. I had just arrived from South Africa to visit family in Congo and saw you needing help at the border. You may not remember me, but I was one of your Bible students among the Congolese refugees in Cape Town." "Oh," I replied, "Help me with your name again?" She replied in her French accent, "Angel."
"Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?"
Hebrews 1:14 KJV
Fairly "unawares",
Brian, Sondra, Noah, and Bryson
Pictured below: all too common African taxi experience
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