#yansi

In the late 1800s a Canadian pharmacist, Dr. William Leslie, sensed God calling him to use his medical skills to advance the gospel on the continent of Africa. He set out for the Democratic Republic of the Congo in 1895, joining the missions organization first pioneered by the famed Adoniram Judson in Burma. After a few years, Dr. Leslie met and married another missionary, and together they served in the DRC—offering medical treatment and the gospel.

In 1912, wanting to take the gospel to more remote indigenous people groups, the Leslies began to clear away dense—and reportedly leopard-infested—jungle along the Kwilu River to build the Vanga mission station. Some of the villages surrounding Vanga were still practicing cannibalism at that time. Clearing the jungle took immense effort and some time, but finally the Leslies built a home and a medical outpost along the river. They spent 17 years there, regularly setting out across the river from their station to offer both medical help and the gospel in a spiritually dark place.

It’s not totally clear what happened, but records show that after 17 years Dr. Leslie and his wife were asked by local tribal leaders to leave. There had been some kind of falling out and they were no longer welcome in or around Vanga. The Leslies abandoned their mission outpost and returned to the U.S. defeated—believing they had failed. They weren’t aware of any converts and certainly did not witness the planting of any churches. Dr. Leslie died nine years after his return, thinking his efforts in the DRC were in vain.

We’ll fast forward 100 years from where we left off with his story.

In 2010, a short-term mission team set out for the Vanga mission station. They did a little preliminary research and expected to find the tribal groups near there yet unreached.

They flew into Kinshasa on a commercial airplane. Then they took a Cessna, operated by Mission Aviation Fellowship, two and half hours to Vanga. They hiked a mile through the jungle to the Kwilu River and then used dug-out canoes to cross the half-mile wide river, to finally arrive at the mission station. The team then backpacked 10 miles further into the jungle before coming into contact with the Yansi, the same tribe that the Leslies had ministered to a whole century before.

The team leader from that 2010 expedition reports, “When we got in there, we found a network of reproducing churches throughout the jungle. Each village had its own gospel choir, although they wouldn’t call it that. They wrote their own songs and would have sing-offs from village to village.”

The team found a church in each of the eight villages they visited, scattered across 34 miles. They even found a 1000-seat stone “cathedral” in one of the villages. They were told that church got so crowded in the 1980s – with many walking miles to attend — that a church planting movement began in the surrounding areas.

They did some investigating and interviewing and discovered that the spiritual roots of this network of jungle churches went back to Dr. Leslie and his wife. The Leslies left the mission field dejected and discouraged, believing they had failed. Dr. Leslie died believing his work had been fruitless. But one hundred years later, the evidence says otherwise.

In Vanga and the surrounding villages, Jesus built his church. In spite of these missionaries’ perceived failure, even in spite of rejection and relational fallout, Jesus built his church.

And I figured that knowing more of where specifically in the DRC we’re from would help.

Я помню, как долго мы выбирали, в каком же утопающем в зелени месте поселиться. Сюзи тогда была беременна Марком, и мы проводили все свободное от моей работы время в поисках нашего семейного гнездышка. Как нам казалось «гнездышка». Мы тогда любили друг друга, не знали, что можем изменять. Даже представить себе не могли, как рождение нашего общего ребенка убьет наш в ту пору крепкий счастливый брак.

Этот дом я ездил смотреть один, так как Сюзи плохо себя чувствовала. Я сразу понял, что он ей понравится, потому что он безумно понравился мне. Тогда мы находили отличными одни и те же вещи. Я привез её сюда, повязав шелковым платком глаза, подвел к центру гостиной и сказал «Милая, мы будем счастливо жить именно здесь». Она сняла повязку, обомлела и заплакала. На ней было платье цвета шампанского, я помню, так как разлил на него игристого, когда открывал бутылку. Я ещё пошутил, что совсем не видно, ведь шампанское тоже цвета шампанского. Она смеялась, как и каждый последующий день, а потом вдруг перестала. Как и перестала быть мне самым родным на свете человеком. Как и перестала просыпаться в моих объятьях. Не думал, что дом с тремя спальнями может оказаться тесным для троих.