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g goods. All was well in our family until one of my cousins left home to join the rebel movement, S.P.L.A., which opposes the Muslim government of Sudan. He left his wife and children which our family continued to look after. The government intelligence soon began to suspect that I was a rebel agent because I was caring for my cousin’s children. I was violently seized and taken to a military prison.

    My cell was like a very small house with one room into which about 200 prisoners were packed. It was so crowded that there was no room to lie down and sleep, except in shifts. We had to stand most of the time. It was very dark except for one small opening in the roof which let in the light by day. We were only allowed to go out to the bathroom once a day. Whenever the room was opened at night , we knew that someone was being taken out to be tortured or killed. I was severely beaten over a period of five months. Every day, our breakfast was a different type of torture. Our number diminished, until there were only about 40 of us left in that room.

...we knew that someone was being taken out to be tortured or killed.
    A certain military sergeant was one of the guards. He knew all the secrets about what was happening, but he was also a devoted believer in the Pentecostal church. He asked for permission to preach the gospel to us, and after struggling several months with the authorities to gain permission, he was given a chance. He was allowed to take us out for an hour once a week. We had fresh air, fresh food and even special food from his own house. He knew all of us were going to die, and spoke to us with that in mind.

    He spoke of the second death and the importance of repenting of our life of sin and of believing in Jesus. He then gave us some small New Testaments to take back to our cell. From that day, I had no fear of the death we were waiting to receive. I was willing to fully give my life to the Lord.

    During the fifth month of my imprisonment, I was doing my usual Bible reading about three o’clock in the afternoon. I was reading Acts 12:1-20 and the amazing way an angel came and took Peter out of the prison. I began wondering whether God might look down on another Peter—myself—and deliver me from prison. By this time I believed that God could do miracles if He chose to, and I was committed in my prayers. It was then my turn to sleep, and I prayed about this and went to sleep.

    During the course of my sleep, before my turn to lie down was over, the door was opened and my name was called. At first I was confused because I was still thinking of Peter’s angel and the prayer I had prayed. Then I realized this is the way we were called to be executed, never to return to the cell. My turn to be called in the night had arrived.

    The normal welcome to the office was to receive a slapping, or to be kicked or beaten. But this time, instead of being pushed to the floor, I was surprised that I was told to sit on the sofa. What was happening? The commandant of the prison began by apologizing for the beatings and keeping me in prison. He went on to say their investigations had revealed that I was innocent. They were releasing me immediately.

    At first I could not believe him, and felt sure it must be a trick or a scheme of some kind. Getting out of that place seemed an impossibility. It took a lot of courage for me to ask him if he really meant what he was saying. He assured me he was serious. He advised me that there still might be those who would kill me even after I was released. I should collect my things and leave and go to another place altogether.

    There were heavy rains pouring down that night, but in spite of that, I went straight to my house that very night. I found that my mother had invited the Church to come and pray for me in my house. Since there were heavy rains, they were not able to go back to their homes. At first they did not recognize me because I had become so thin in prison—from 180 pounds five months earlier to 120 pounds when they saw me. They received me warmly. We rejoiced and prayed together.

    I informed them that the commander had advised me to leave with the next convoy because it would be dangerous for me to stay in my home town. The convoy would leave in the morning for Juba. It was difficult for me to leave them so quickly. So with the joy of my release, we also shared the sadness of parting again. We prayed together. They all prayed that the Lord who delivered me safely would continue to do so through whatever lay ahead.

    Early in the morning, I left my home with little money, leaving everything else with my brother. I was heading to Juba from Yei with the convoy transport, a journey of about 100 miles and several hours. In actual fact, that journey took one month. We encountered land mines, shootings, and fighting along the way. On one day there was massive killing, about 270 people were killed. We had to bury them all in one grave.

God had delivered me from terrible agony and now it was time to render service to Him.
    We finally reached Juba, where I stayed for three days recovering from every sort of shock and journey fatigue. Then I went on to Khartoum, where I was fortunate to find a job with the Danish embassy, as a driver for the Ambassador. I stayed there for two years until the Danish embassy was forced to close due to the political pressures put upon western consulates by the Sudanese Muslim government. These pressures were also felt by all Christians.

    The Danish Ambassador generously helped buy a ticket for me to Egypt. In Egypt God was with me. I was able to find employment as a driver for a tourist company, and came to meet some members of the Church of Christ. One of them, Mrs. Marty Lynn from Nashville, Tennessee, USA, put me in touch with the World English Institute, an evangelical correspondence course. I studied for two years while continuing my job. Mrs. Lynn introduced me to some elders in Nashville who taught me the fundamentals of Christianity. One of them talked to me about going to Bible school, and that he would be my sponsor. I had to consider whether to leave my job and fully trust God for my provision. I thought about how God had delivered me from terrible agony and that now it was time to render service to Him.

    In Nairobi, at the Great Commission School, I was hit with another problem when my sponsor died. But thanks be to God, his widow continued to help me until I finished the two year course. Now I am equipped with the basic Bible training with an emphasis in missions.

    I would like to be able to continue my education, to enable me in the future to reach not only the poor and needy Sudanese, but also the educated not only within Sudan but those who are scattered throughout the world because of ethnic and political strife. May God help me to rescue them, as He has rescued me.

 
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HEARTLIGHT(R) Magazine is a ministry of loving Christians and the Westover Hills church of Christ.
Edited by Phil Ware and Paul Lee.
Copyright © 1996-97, Heartlight, Inc., 8332 Mesa Drive, Austin, TX 78759.
Article copyright (c) 1998, Peter Ladu Lasu. Used by permission.
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