By Rae Burnett

I could feel the darkness and death in the air as we entered the Burundi prison yard. I knew the strength of the enemy was being held back by the power of Christ.

Locked in behind massive 20-foot high walls, more than 500 ragged prisoners stared as armed guards forged a way through. They looked tough and foreboding, but as I smiled and waved, many dropped their masks and smiled back.

As we continued past another walled area toward the heart of the compound, I was met with singing. Three dancers—poorly, but ceremonially dressed—led me into the center of a circle of more than 1,000 men, women and children who had gathered to see the woman who dared to enter this frightful place.

I said that the Lord had sent me with His words, that the kingdom of God was available to them—now. I explained clearly about being born again and the power of the cross of Christ to make men’s lives new.

I encouraged them with the story of Prem Predhan, whose imprisonment God used to spread Christianity throughout Nepal. The Lord truly uses the foolish things of the world to confound the wise.

Officials astonishingly allowed me to take photos—an act that is expressly forbidden—first of the dancers, and then later at the women’s quarters, in the hope that I might find help for the inmates subsisting in the deplorable conditions.

Many of the children were born here. It is the only life they have ever known. I was not allowed to see the men’s quarters. It is much worse. Little food is provided. Only some beans and flour they cook for themselves. If you give them rice and salt, it makes a feast. No soap. No blankets or clothing. No medical care.

To afford these bare necessities, women weave baskets to be sold at the market. The men have a carpentry project and craft brass jewelry. The ring and bracelet given to me in appreciation for my visit are treasures I will always cherish.

I waded through the heartache and despair to a bright spot—a flickering flame of hope in the midst of the gloom. A group of Christians had formed a small church inside the compound. Prison pastor, Wilson, was unjustly accused of theft by the pastor of a local church planted by foreigners.

Without his imprisonment, there would be no church in the prison. After hearing the story of Prem Pradhan, he told me: "Now I know why I’m in prison, and I will gladly stay here as long as the Lord wants."

The prison reminded me of a river. Prisoners flow in, then flow out. Fishers of men are pulling them into the kingdom of God and discipling them.

The prisoners are drawn to the Christians, who look after them when they are sick, cook for them, share their food, soap, clothing and blankets. Prisoners leave as followers of Christ.

I saw about 100 believers gathering together during my visit, and learned that 25 Christian women were released just before I had arrived.

It is a miracle that I was allowed inside that prison. It is closed to foreign visitors—even Africans are not permitted inside. But I was there. I saw the little ministry inside the prison with my own eyes. I verified it. And they need our help.

Christian Aid supports prison ministry in the Gambia, Niger, Burundi, Togo, Morocco, Vietnam, India and other nations throughout the world. We are unique because of the ministries we support.

We seek out low-profile, independent indigenous ministries that are doing God’s work in crucial areas of the world. These native mission centers are always in dire need of support. Christian Aid representatives travel the world in search of these hidden ministries to make their needs known so that they may continue their good work.