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December 10, 2004

Emerging Church

It was December. The moon was up, and there was the low buzz of voices in my yard. Small groups of Fulani were scattered around, sitting or reclining on mats and chatting. I was about to leave Gorom-Gorom, after more than 10 years praying and working to see the gospel accepted among the Fulani there. There was now a small group of about 12 who identified themselves as Christians, and were struggling to find their way forward as his disciples.

During the day, we had been to the local church, filled with Christians from the neighbouring Mossi tribe. The Mossi and Fulani have a long history of mutual distrust. Culturally, the two peoples are very different, and it has not been easy for the Fulani converts to fit into the Mossi set-up. Today, one of the Fulani believers, a man trained in the Quran and regarded as a teacher by his fellow villagers, was being baptised there. Missionaries and Fulani believers from across the north of Burkina had come to join us. It was the largest gathering of Fulani Christians Gorom had ever seen – there must have been about 20 of them.

Afterwards, the Fulani came back to my yard to celebrate. We killed a sheep, and feasted. Hamadou and Buryma made the local tea. And afterwards people settled into small groups to relax.

After chatting with different ones for a while, I stood back and looked around me. On one mat, under the acacia tree in the middle of the yard, an impromptu music group had formed. One of the Fulani was playing Fulani-style music on my guitar. Another had taken a calabash, and was tapping out a rhythm on it. And a third had taken a millet stalk, which he had turned it into a makeshift flute, and was trying valiantly to keep in tune with the guitar. And they were singing worship songs to God. Some lads who had been passing my gate had come in to listen.

On another mat, not far from where my cow was tied, a second small group had the Fulani New Testament open, and were gathered around it. Those who could read were reading it to the others, and they were unselfconsciously discussing what it meant.

A third group were debating animatedly, but respectfully, with the Islamic religious teacher from across the road, who had seen that there was something going on, and had wandered in to find out what was happening. Others were just relaxing, drinking tea, and chatting.

I was overwhelmed with what I was seeing – this was church! Baptising, feasting, worshipping, witnessing, bible-centred mega church! This is what I have dreamed and worked for.

It must be said, this is not the Gorom-Gorom community of believers – some of these Fulani would return the next day to their villages, over 100 miles away. And those who are in Gorom area face many challenges – with poverty, and with their own struggles, as well as with opposition from within their community. The church among the Fulani is small and fragile, in need of prayer and nurture. But the Holy Spirit is at work among them, and this was a glimpse of what he is doing. That evening was one of the most exciting of my life.

For all its fragility, there was reality in that fellowshipping, worshipping, witnessing little community in my yard that night. This wasn’t about meetings. This was about sharing a common faith, identity and journey as Christ’s family.

And that is church.

Tags: burkina faso africa emerging church burkina church fulani

Posted by Keith at December 10, 2004 03:14 PM