Over 90 percent of churches in Algeria lie within the mountainous northeast area known as Kabylia. The country's 35 million population is largely made up of two people groups. The earliest, Berber-speaking residents were later conquered by Muslim Arabs, who now outnumber Berbers about five to one. The latter feel, with some justification, that they have been badly treated. Arab/Kabyle hostilities came to a head after the French left Algeria in 1962, when the new (Arab) government tried to unite the country under one language, one religion, and one culture. Kabyle Berbers had Christian roots and were not considered strong Muslims—even indulging in the eating of pork and drinking of beer. So the government moved Arabs into their midst and built more mosques. But the situation exploded in 1980 when Arabic was declared Algeria's only official language. Intellectuals who defended Berber culture were killed, and many university students died in demonstrations.

Although the national language policy was finally amended in 2002 to include Berber, Kabylia's bitterness against all things Arab paved the way for a huge revival of Christianity. Seeds patiently sown decades earlier by missionary pioneers like the Charles Marsh family—and by the distribution of thousands of Jesus film videos and gospels in the late '90s—were finally ready to bloom.

I traveled to the epicenter of the revival and found Kabylia felt like another country. Whatever I had pictured of Algeria—almost three and a half times the size of Texas and 85 percent desert—it wasn't this. Lush green mountainsides were covered with spring flowers, fig and olive trees, and grapevines. Jasmine scented the air. On the streets of Tizi Ouzo, one of the region's main cities, most men wore shirts and trousers, with relatively few sporting the long tunic and beard of fundamentalists. Some women were also heavily veiled, but the majority were colorfully clad in embroidered Kabyle dresses and Western clothes—even jeans. Fast-food restaurants and cyber-café;s abounded, and satellite dishes spread like mushrooms on the sides of high-rise apartment buildings.

For an idea of what the Kabylia awakening looks like, turn to the Book of Acts. Believers gather daily in homes for prayer and to experience dreams, visions, healings, and deliverance. Even former terrorists, Muslim leaders, and sorcerers are coming to faith. In fact, such occurrences are so much a part of church growth that they are not regarded as extraordinary. The new fellowships springing up all over Kabylia are very much New Testament churches (one very good reason being that only the New Testament is yet available in the Berber language). So far they have steered clear of denominational labels and foreign leadership. Local pastors have little formal training. But as one puts it, "The Holy Spirit is more important than a certificate. Studies are important, yes, but it takes a balance. We just want to center on Jesus. The gospel has to be practical; not just words, but actions."

"People here in Algeria—especially young people—are thirsty to know God," Davy, my translator, had assured me as I started listening to testimonies. But the thing that most deeply affected me about Algeria was the evidence of God's Spirit, reaching out through radio, TV—even dreams and visions—to satisfy that thirst.

The number of Christians in this land is thought to have surpassed 40,000. As one national leader asserts, "There is no doubt that this is God's time for Algeria. I am deeply convinced that if we miss this opportunity, we are making one of church history's greatest mistakes!"

But I and many others must first admit to an even greater error: swallowing the enemy's lie that Muslims are a lost cause, that they are unreachable. Once we do, the Lord will be able to use us to speed the phenomenal awakening that He's already begun.