Revival at Peace Island

The revival at Peace Island

Peace Island is a large hill surrounded by swamp. The hill is made up of rock and rocky dirt. Not much grows there. Dust is everywhere. Since the place has no value, they let families with nowhere else to go set up home there. Peace Island is the place of last resort for those that have nothing.

And thousands and thousands of people live there. There is a big hole in front of almost every house where the residents dug out dirt to make crude bricks. They stack these bricks up to make walls. Then they use tin to make a roof. Some have doors, some don’t, none have windows.

Electricity is a dream, as is a car. Part of the duties of men in the church is to carry out sick people who need medical attention, as well as the dead. There are no bathrooms or sewers so the waste ends up in the swamp, leaving it polluted and mostly dead.

Yet they survive. Some get jobs, some get help. Among the families and children live former soldiers with drug addictions and psychological problems. They cause trouble and are hard to handle. The men band together to try to keep as much law and order as possible. Peace Island has to stick together, no one seems to care much about them.

One of the ten or so pastors there insisted I come with him to see his church. The sides were woven palm branches, the structure was made of small tree trunks, and the floors were of course dirt. They had some rough wooden benches and a few chairs up front.

The church also doubled as one of the schools at Peace Island. They had two old chalkboards that were barely standing. On them was an English lesson and some math problems. Students don’t have books, and the teachers have very few. If you want a chair, bring your own.

We had visited the area earlier and got to visit and play with the children. They laughed and giggled at us. Not many white folk make their way to Peace Island. We were treated like royalty. They let out school just so the kids could talk with us and stare at us.

The pastors were so gracious, only wanting thank us for coming. But they just couldn’t keep from telling us their people were poor and had nothing. They asked for school books and supplies, Bibles, other real needs, and prayer. They need our prayers as they scratch survival on what some would call a God forsaken rock.

But God has not forsaken Peace Island. Pastors minister there and people worship. They give thanks to God for even the little they have. And they thanked God when we showed up, music blasting as our little caravan wound its way through their world.

We stopped at a dirt field they used to play soccer on. As the music played the people began to come. Soon they formed a big circle around us, five or six people deep. Three hundred, four hundred, maybe more. Come to think of it, there were well over 100 kids there. We got the kids together to sing, play, and go on a bear hunt. They could make some pretty mean, big old bears. I started out leading the singing but Trent soon got Sheila to take my place. I think I was embarrassing him. They loved it all.

Then we preached the gospel of repentance, forgiveness, new creations, and hope. Michael Frisbie, an Enid pastor and Dax did a tremendous job of explaining the gospel. We asked them to come forward to accept Jesus as their savior. And they came. Young men, old women, mothers, fathers, kids, all came expressing a desire to make Jesus their king. Well over a hundred came.

The pastors, Dax, Michael, Chris Zuniga, Keith and Lisa French, Tammy, and Trent were soon busy praying and encouraging the people who wanted Jesus. What a great picture I have in my mind as I continued to call for others to come forward while watching our people help lead lost people into the Kingdom. Arms around shoulders, hand in hand, there was no black and white, there was no Liberian and American, just new brothers and sisters in Christ together.

God is not done with Peace Island and neither are we. God is not done in Liberia and neither are we. The harvest is great and there is a great need for workers. The message of repentance is powerful in Liberia. Satan has had his way, but now God is convicting of sin and calling people to repentance. Liberia is hungry for the gospel. They are captivated by it. We can’t wait to go back and tell others about Jesus.

We can’t wait to go back to Peace Island. They captured our hearts, while God captured theirs. And there is much more to do on that rough, dusty old hill that God has not forsaken.

Kris