Mowabites Worldwide

News from home. Father has been transferred. To pastor a new church. In another town many miles away. Perhaps we should be happy. But we have no reason to be. It’s just a change from one problem to the same problem wearing a different face.

In accompanying our father on his missions, we see how strenuous the work of God can be, on his emotions, on his health. I will always remember that night we were returning from a crusade, our pickup right behind his motorbike, both vehicles racing home, when suddenly his motor tyre bust, scattering him, his Bible and his assistant across the tarred highway.

There have been days without breakfast or lunch on our table, and while we the children winced and complained about the unpleasant fast, we had no idea that our parents were broke, and were counting on the Divine Purse that never disappoints to live up to His reputation.

After many years of ministry, many years of rising and falling, our father nears retirement. Usually, pastors with a few years to retirement are transferred to well-established branches of our church, branches that are financially stable enough to organize a proper send-off ceremony for the man of God. But our old man was sent to a community of peasants. And yet, he accepts the transfer, and his duty, with joy.

Despite his optimism and enthusiasm, we sometimes notice the discouragement on his face. Which is why, like many sons and daughters of pastors, the appetite to take up our father’s job is very low, having witnessed the unpleasant side of ministry hidden from so many.

While resting under a tree on campus waiting for my next lecture, I think about the new transfer of father, and whether it was going to be any different from those that have come before it…