I rose early for devotions, but it wasn't starting off well. I read for the third time the Swahili letter from one of our national pastors telling me he was leaving his church and moving to another area.

For five years I had worked with this young man, teaching him the Scriptures and helping him start his church in the bush area of Kenya. It's not easy to find willing, educated Turkanans to be pastors. I regretted his decision, but my overwhelming concern was for Pastor Diyo himself. His letter expressed the feelings of so many servants of God, regardless of where they live-discouraged, defeated, unhappy.

My mind wandered back over my fifteen years in the ministry. I knew what Pastor Diyo was feeling. I know what it's like to work hard but never feel I'm accomplishing anything worthwhile for the Master. I could sympathize with his frustration of working with people whose response and spiritual growth was very slow.

My first pastorate was in an air force town. Equipped with a zeal surpassing ...