A Weekend of Extremes: Joy, Holy Fire, and 250,000 Souls

​If my time in Rwanda has taught me anything, it is that this country lives in the extremes. Your heart is forced to expand here because it is constantly being pulled between overwhelming celebration and profound, historic grief. This past weekend—my final few days on African soil—was a whirlwind that left me completely, emotionally spent.

Saturday: A 12-Hour Wedding Marathon

On Saturday, I was invited to a traditional Rwandan wedding. In America, we think a four-hour wedding is long. This was a twelve-hour marathon with over a thousand people in attendance, and it was one of the most culturally fascinating things I have ever witnessed.

Traditional Rwandan weddings are broken into three distinct, formal parts: the Gusaba (the traditional introduction and dowry ceremony), the church service, and the grand reception. The scale of the production is incredible—in between each of these three sections, the entire wedding party completes a full outfit change, transitioning from vibrant, traditional Rwandan garments to formal Western attire.

The Gusaba is where the cultural depth really shines. It is a highly theatrical, beautifully orchestrated negotiation between the elders of both families. In Rwandan culture, you don't just marry an individual; families marry families. The speeches and proverbs emphasize the weaving together of two entire lineages.

As part of the dowry presentation (known as Gukwa), this specific groom's family presented the bride’s family with 10 cows. In the West, we might misunderstand this as a transaction, but in Rwanda, the cow (inka) is the ultimate symbol of sacred honor, wealth, and respect. Presenting cows is a profound, deeply reverent thank-you to the parents for raising such a beautiful daughter. The joy, the traditional dancing, and the sheer community investment in this couple was intoxicating to watch.

Sunday Morning: Fire at Hermon Church

On Sunday morning, the celebration shifted from a wedding hall to a sanctuary. I was blessed with the opportunity to preach at Hermon Church to a packed congregation of over 300 people.

My dear brother, Theophile, stepped up to serve as my interpreter, translating my words and cultural context in real-time. This was my second opportunity to preach during this trip, but the spiritual energy in that room Sunday morning was completely invigorating. The congregation was incredibly enthusiastic, filled with a vibrant exuberance, spontaneous dancing, and a chorus of "hallelujahs" that echoed off the walls. It was deeply humbling to stand before our Rwandan brothers and sisters, feeling a shared, roaring faith that bridges any continental divide.

Sunday Afternoon: Standing Above 250,000 Souls

The emotional whiplash of this journey hit its peak on Sunday afternoon. We left the high-energy praise of the church service and drove to the Kigali Genocide Memorial in Gisozi.

If Nyamata earlier in the week was a raw, visceral encounter with the preservation of violence, the National Memorial is a staggering encounter with the sheer scale of the tragedy. This site serves as the final resting place for more than 250,000 victims of the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi. Their remains, recovered from streets, rivers, and mass graves across the capital city, are buried here in massive, concrete terraced tombs.

Walking past those rows of mass graves in total silence is an experience that completely breaks you down. Inside the memorial walls, the exhibits map out the systematic horror of those 100 days. The most agonizing part of the entire memorial is the Children’s Room. It is a space covered in large, beautiful photographs of toddlers and young kids. Beneath each portrait is a small plaque listing their names, their favorite toys, their favorite foods, and exactly how they were killed—whether by machete, bullet, or being dashed against a wall.

I stood there fighting back tears, completely overwhelmed by the gravity of what human beings are capable of doing to one another. Yet, true to the resilient spirit of Rwanda, the memorial doesn’t end in the dirt. It concludes with an exhibition on reconciliation and how this nation chose forgiveness and unity over blood-vengeance to rebuild itself from the ashes.

Sunday Evening: A Village Welcome for One

Exhausted and raw from the memorial, our day ended with a beautiful display of African communal love. We drove to the airport to welcome Theo’s nephew, Moses, who was flying in from Austin, Texas.

In America, if you fly home, you might get a text saying, "Let me know when your plane lands." In Rwanda, it is a major family and community milestone. Thirty of us piled into vehicles and went to the airport just to greet him. When Moses walked through the arrivals gate, the eruption of hugs, tears, and cheers was unbelievable. One person's journey is carried by the whole village.

We all went back to Theo’s brother’s house for a massive welcoming party and dinner, and we didn't leave until after 11:00 PM. By the time my head hit the pillow, my mind was racing and my emotions were completely spent. I had looked into the deepest abyss of human grief and felt the highest expressions of human love and hospitality all within a single 24-hour span.

On Monday, before my departure, I sat down with Bishop Theo for a heavy, eye-opening debrief about the massive crisis still facing this region—and the specific vision God has given us to step up and help. I will share that final, urgent update with you all on Monday morning.