A Hand Descending From Heaven

Dr. William A. Twayigize

DR. WILLIAM

The Single Bible

On the night of Sunday leading to Monday, October 12, 1998, at around 2am, an overwhelming feeling consumed me as if I was taking my last breath. Already frail, that night felt different; I was at my weakest, feeling gravely ill and resigned to the imminent grip of death. In the cold, dark corner of the torture chamber, I clung tightly to my one true companion, the Bible, which had been my solace throughout the horrifying experiences in Zaire/DRC. From the day UNHCR took us into custody, only to hand us over to General Karenzi Karake and Adjudent Chef Tharcisse “Hassan” — who demanded the daily toll of forty Hutu lives — my Bible was the constant in a world of chaos.

I had delved deep into its pages, reading from cover to cover, marking every verse that provided me a glimmer of hope amidst the nightmares of Congo, Sake, Masisi, Lewa River, Tingi-Tingi, Kisangani, Ubundu, Ikella, Mbandaka, and Kinshasa. My Bible never failed to provide solace. In my bleakest moments, it was a beacon of comfort. Remarkably, when we were thrust into the torture chamber, they returned my Bible to me, allowing that single ray of hope to persist in the darkness.

n the haunting silence of the torture chamber, amidst over 500 refugees, my Bible stood out as the singular beacon of hope. For reasons known only to the divine, mine was the only Bible within those oppressive walls. As the days turned into years of unimaginable suffering, it became not just a source of spiritual sustenance for me, but a light piercing through the darkness for many. Its worn-out cover, a testament to the countless nights it served as my pillow, bore witness to the resilience of faith even in the direst of circumstances.

I recall with clarity the power of its words, which had led many souls to find solace in Christ within that very torture chamber. Many from our Bible Fellowship group had been killed by the Tutsi soldiers, and only a handful of us remained, our lives hanging precariously. Our voices, weakened from starvation, no longer had the strength to read aloud its comforting passages. But in the silence, the message it held was louder than ever. It spoke of hope and an eternal sanctuary for our souls once our earthly sufferings ended. Through all the pain and uncertainty, the Bible’s steadfast voice whispered to my heart, “…Son, fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God.”

Engulfed in darkness, I found myself unable to utter a word, a silent murmur echoing within. The sensation of my weakening body seemed to drift away, as if being pulled from beneath me. My memories started to blur, fading as though being methodically erased. An overpowering feeling consumed me, the sensation that my very soul was detaching. A profound silence enveloped me, a kind I had never encountered – the deafening silence of impending death. This was the moment I had anticipated, having watched my comrades draw their final breaths, their fragile heads cradled against my chest. Now, as my time approached, there was no one left to support my feeble form; so many of us had already met their end. Days had passed without sustenance, and my body had surrendered, shutting down completely. The inevitability of death was now at my doorstep.

With the faintest echo of an inner voice, I whispered to the heavens, “God, I am coming home.” But before I could finish my plea, my body succumbed to a deep, death-like slumber. I felt my spirit depart, rising above my physical form, witnessing the serenity of Rwanda’s valleys and the meandering rivers fading into the distance. My spirit seemed to glide effortlessly over mountain peaks in the celestial realm.

After what felt like both an eternity and a fleeting moment, my ethereal form began its descent, merging once again with my lifeless body resting in the valley below. As it settled, an encompassing darkness took hold, drawing me into the abyss of unconsciousness. In this near-comatose state, a glimmer of awareness returned, and faint voices echoed around me. “This one is already dead,” a voice declared, even though I was sequestered in a desolate corner, far from any soul. That proclamation was soon overshadowed by an even deeper void, blanketing my mind in impenetrable blackness.

This HRW map of Rwanda for 2017 lays bare the chilling reality, revealing a disturbing network of torture chambers scattered across the nation. Detailed within are systematic and horrifying patterns of torture, enforced disappearances, executions, unlawful and arbitrary detentions, unjust trials, and grave human rights violations perpetrated within military torture centers from 2010 to 2016—reminiscent of the very ones the Tutsi soldiers subjected us to during their torturous reign in 1998.

The Big Hand

As my body lay inert, face up to the vast expanse of the sky, a breathtaking vision unfolded before me. The heavens parted to reveal a sight so astounding and unparalleled that it defied all prior experience. It was a realm imbued with an otherworldly luminance, so brilliant and yet unlike any light I had ever witnessed. The depth of this celestial panorama was vast and fathomless, and though the events seemed to transpire rapidly, the emotions and sensations they evoked were profound.

Strangely, amidst this celestial spectacle, the environment mirrored an African midday, despite it being around 2 am when this journey began. Above me, the sun shone brightly, positioned directly overhead, illuminating a crystal-clear sky. It bore a striking resemblance to the cloudless blue skies of East Africa. The ambiance was familiar, yet I couldn’t discern my exact location. In this dreamlike state, it felt as though I stood atop Africa’s highest peak, Mount Kilimanjaro. While this ethereal experience felt timeless, as if spanning an eternity, it seemed to conclude in mere minutes. And then, in an awe-inspiring moment, the heavens opened even wider.

From the brilliance of the midday sun, a minuscule shadow emerged. As I squinted, trying to discern the swiftly moving, dark anomaly within the sun’s radiant glare, the intense brightness overwhelmed me. It was akin to gazing directly at the arc of a welding torch; the searing ultraviolet light felt as though it was scorching my cornea.

Before I could even avert my eyes, another massive form materialized in the sky. Hurtling towards me at a breathtaking velocity, it initially resembled an immense mountain or a dark, looming comet. Yet, as swift and intimidating as it was, my eyes managed to track its rapid descent. As it neared, the colossal form began to morph. What had seemed like a giant rock transformed into a gigantic human hand, clutching a sizeable book with a black cover. Drawing closer still, recognition dawned; the book was identical to the Bible I had clutched so tightly, the one that now cushioned my head. As the hand hovered before me, it tenderly opened the Bible, revealing pages that were intimately familiar. Though the text appeared blurred, I could discern my own handwritten notes and underlined passages, a testament to the solace I had found in its words.

The Big Hand presented a book before me, urging me to read. To my astonishment, it was the book of Psalms. Guided by the unseen force of the Big Hand, I was drawn to a specific chapter. Even though I had read the Bible numerous times, marking memory verses that resonated with me, this particular chapter appeared foreign. The untouched, unmarked pages hinted that I had never ventured here before. Drawing the book closer, the Big Hand seemed to emphasize its significance, as if urging me to not only read but also memorize it. This unfamiliar chapter was Psalm 91. Reflecting upon this, I realized that perhaps there was a divine reason this passage had eluded me until then.

As I delved into Psalm 91, each verse unveiled revelations previously unknown to me. It felt as though this chapter had been reserved for me, waiting for the precise moment God deemed appropriate. The promises woven into its verses astounded me, resonating deeply. Guided by the Big Hand, my reading took on a rhythm reminiscent of a teleprompter. Where emphasis was needed, the text seemed to magnify, drawing nearer to my gaze, almost whispering, “Cherish this, for it is a covenant between us.”

As the visions unfolded, certain verses from the book of Psalm stood out, emphasizing God’s unwavering promises. Psalm 91:1 declares, “Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” Reading this, a profound sensation coursed through me, piercing my heart in the manner of a newfound love. It was as if a refreshing stream had quenched my parched soul, granting a deep sense of assurance and rekindling my spirit. Subsequently, my attention was drawn to Psalm 91:7. Just as the first verse, it was illuminated, suggesting divine emphasis. The verse proclaims, “Though a thousand may fall at your side, and ten thousand at your right hand, no harm will come near you.” Upon completing my reading of Psalm 91, the Big Hand, which had held the Bible for me, gradually faded, becoming but a distant blur.

Subscribe Now

Join Our Newsletter

Orcinteger faucibus odio cursus facilisi sitenim egestas ele imperdiet etiam situ eltrices vestibulum sit. Orcinteger faucibus odio cursus facilisi sitenim.

DR. WILLIAM

Orcinteger faucibus odio cursus facilisi sitenim egestas ele imperdiet etiam situ eltrices vestibulum sit. Orcinteger faucibus odio cursus facilisi sitenim.

Dr. William A. Twayigize

DR. WILLIAM