Pastors

Why would God give me a gift but not let me use it? The question kept nipping at me, and in response I opened the throttle wider on my Kawasaki dirt bike. My wife and I were headed home following a church service in one of the small villages near our mission station in Sierra Leone, West Africa. I had never felt such frustration, and I expressed it by rapidly dodging rocks and gullies on the dirt road until my wife begged, "Please, slow down."

Growing up in a pastor's home, I had learned early the importance of giving myself to the ministry. Like my father, I felt the call to preach. But now I was handcuffed in exercising that gift.

One frustration was the general confusion in an African village service: mothers move in and out to check on children playing outside, men walk to the window to spit, an occasional dog wanders in for a look around, the ever-present crowd of noisy children wait outside for a closer look at the white man. Sometimes in the hubbub I'd lose my concentration and forget ...

You have reached the end of this Article Preview

To continue reading, subscribe to Christianity Today magazine. Subscribers have full digital access to CT Pastors articles.

Log InSubscribe

Already a CT subscriber? Log in for full digital access.