Who am I? 

and the laconic answer is 37 years of ministry.

I was a law student when the Lord first touched my life. And it all began with that sermon on the prodigal son.  Makerere University, in its heyday, one of Africa’s best is a very British edifice, academic institution on Makerere Hill in Kampala, Uganda.

On the evening in question, some friends thought we should kill off time, go out there and make fun of the Christians. Youthful camaraderie, insouciance even. What do we care, they said. And so literally they drag me down to University Hall, one of the Halls of residence, and it was the Annual Christian Union Campus In-reach, as it was then called.

The University Christian group, its history harks back to the British Cambridge Intercollegiate Christian Union, known better by the Acronym CICCU, is a fiercely evangelistic entity. This day was going to be no different. Someone was going to get caught in the net.

In Anglican tradition it is called the Benediction, and as it happened, the minister invited to speak tonight exploded with such lethal words I thought it was the officer barking the orders from the Old British East Africa: ‘Just admit that you’re lost!’ and I had felt it like the sword through my heart, even as the presence of Jesus Christ washed over me. 

Historic times, the Cold War, Idi Amin. Years of turbulence, and civil war - so much to boggle the mind. And it was also University exams, and now two weeks since I get saved, Heavenly power descended upon my life  down in the basement, in the Law Section of the University library. 

I was reading through the Law Reports, hallowed works of Case Law, when a feeling had come upon me, as if I should die. Quickly I had abandoned the great Works of Law, and struggled up the stairs with the box files in my hands.  I go past Reception, and turning the corner, I crumple down to the ground.

There under the Campus lights the Holy Spirit as lightnings struck me down; my stomach is churning like the waterfall; my body shakes from head to toe, and my chest heaves, as if God means to wrench the last breath out of my life. But what did God want? Perhaps he wished to take me like Elijah?

Then I read Billy Graham’s book, World Aflame, and I head West…

As the Petroleum tanker rumbles towards Kampala, I pray the bible through 16 military checkpoints, then known as ‘The Roadblock,' at any of which I should be shot for shape of my nose. Tutsi, endangered human species. Rwandan. One of Africa’s children of Holocaust, although the soldiers in this country did not go so far as to call us cockroaches.

By thee I have run through a troop, by thee I have leapt over a wall.
And God blinded them. And I pass. I survive.

I did not know that the Holy Spirit was calling me to nations so far afield as the Marshall Islands, Vanuatu, such places as Dominican Republic, Haiti, Colombia, Peru, Argentina and Bolivia.

I have seen Jesus face to face, and his radiance is the billion rays of power, and his glory the floodlights to banish the darkness of this world.  

I have been privileged to know Him.  If you have heard the voice of God thunder and rumble in the heavens as I have thrice in my life,  you too should run ablaze for His name.

Welcome to Council for Global Evangelisation.  Join yourself to this chariot of fire, this Apostolic Movement. Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered the heart of man the things which God hath prepared for them which love him!