Our Weekly Devotionals

Letter 11 - July 18, 1902

Nabumali Mission, Bugisu (Masaba land)

To Rev. Canon Alston, CMS London

My dear Canon,

Tonight, as I walked through the compound at dusk, I saw a line of children - books in hand - reciting their lessons aloud. The schoolhouse walls are thin, yet the words seem to cling to them like honey.

One of the boys, a quiet lad named Wafana, stopped me. He said,

“Teacher, when I grow up, can I also teach others what God has said?”

My throat caught. “Yes,” I told him, “and you’ll do it better than I ever could.”

Canon, I once believed my task was to preach - to plant churches and baptize. But now I see: my calling is to sow teachers, to ignite futures, to lay a foundation I may never see finished.

This week I rode with one of our younger teachers to Nyondo, where a group of girls now sing Psalm 121 in Masaba each morning before class. Their teacher, Simon, studied under one of the early CMS converts at Buwalasi. He told me, “We no longer wait for missionaries - we have become the messengers.”

And I recently received a letter from a young teacher working in Bugema, where a new chapel school is being established. He wrote: “The children here are eager. They read by lantern light and ask for more.” What a thought - a hunger for Scripture in places we have yet to step foot.

I think often of Apolo Kivebulaya, now preaching in Toro. Here is a man, once a warrior, now a humble servant of Christ - taking the Gospel into places I may never reach. Canon, that is the vision I carry now. That men like Apolo will rise in Masaba. That our legacy will not be buildings, but believers who go farther than we could ever walk.

There is a sapling behind the chapel we planted last month. I told the children, “One day you’ll sit under its shade and tell your children how the Word came to these hills.”

Isaiah 61:3 comes to mind:
“They shall be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord, for the display of His splendor.”

There are changes coming to this land - new flags, new roads, new rulers. But the truest change is quieter. It’s the boy who picks up his Bible. The girl who hums the Psalms in her sleep. The village elder who now brings millet to the chapel instead of the shrine.

We may not be remembered, Canon. But He will. And that is enough.

Yours in the vineyard,
Rev. William A. Crabtree