THE NIGHT OF THE AK-47
A True Story from the Congo
The popping sound woke us in the early hours of the morning.
At first, I could not make sense of it. Then, within seconds, I knew exactly what it was.
AK-47s.
My wife and I quickly gathered our thoughts and hurried to our daughters, who were still sleeping peacefully beneath their mosquito nets. We gently lifted them from their beds and carried them into the center hallway, away from the windows. We spread blankets on the floor and told them to stay low and quiet.
I carefully walked to the front of the house and looked around the corner. Then I checked the front door to make sure it was locked. More gunfire echoed through the night, and this time it sounded much closer.
I went to the back door and checked it as well. Locked.
The sharp bursts of gunfire continued to break the silence of the jungle night. Our Belgian Malinois, usually alert to every unfamiliar sound, never barked. Somehow his silence made the situation feel even more serious.
We sat together in the hallway, surrounded by concrete walls, steel doors, and barred windows. Our home felt secure, yet at that moment it also felt very small. If armed men truly wanted to enter, there was little our house could do to stop them.
A short time later, two deep explosions echoed from the direction of the river port where barges regularly arrived with food and supplies. Then another sound followed. It was slower, heavier, and unmistakable.
A .50 caliber machine gun.
There are moments on the mission field when the reality of where God has called you becomes very clear. This was one of those moments.
We prayed.
Not long, eloquent prayers, but simple prayers from the heart.
“Lord, protect our family.”
“Watch over the believers here.”
“Have mercy on this village.”
There was nothing left to do except trust the Lord.
As we prayed, Psalm 4:8 came quietly to my mind:
“I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, LORD, only makest me dwell in safety.”
Eventually the gunfire faded. The explosions stopped. Once again the jungle became quiet.
By God's grace, we eventually fell asleep.
The next morning one of our Congolese workers stopped by our house. He calmly explained what had happened.
The gunfire had come from drunken soldiers firing their weapons into the night to warn approaching rebels not to enter the city. The rebels had fled fighting in eastern Congo, seized a barge, and traveled west along the Kasai River until they reached the river port near our jungle town. They remained only a short time before moving on.
Within a day or two, life returned to normal. The familiar footpaths filled with people once again. Children laughed as they played. The peaceful sounds of the jungle replaced the sounds of gunfire.
But something had been reinforced in my heart that night.
Our security had never rested in concrete walls, steel doors, or locked gates. It never had.
Our safety was, and always will be, in the hands of God.
Reflections
There is wisdom in taking precautions. But that night proved precautions have limits, and confidence has to rest somewhere higher.
Scripture
“Some trust in chariots, and some in horses: but we will remember the name of the LORD our God.”
Psalm 20:7
Read More True Stories from the Congo
The Night of the AK-47 is one of the true missionary stories from
Steps I Never Planned: True Missionary Stories from the Congo
by Gale G. Dawson
