“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom.”
— Colossians 3:16
It’s four in the afternoon, and the bell rings across our land. It’s a small sound, but everyone knows it. It travels far—over the classrooms, through the banana plantations, across the farm where the pigs grunt and the dogs lift their heads. It means the day is ending, and something holy is about to begin.
From where I sit, I can see our gardeners coming down the slope from the banana fields. They move slowly, tired but peaceful, red dust clinging to their trousers. At the tap, they wash their hands, faces, and feet, the cool water cutting through the heat of the day. Down by the kitchen, our cooks are scrubbing the last dishes, stacking the saucepans, and wiping down the tables. Soon they, too, are hurrying out, wiping their hands on their aprons as they go.
One by one, they gather under the big mango tree that grows in front of our school. That tree has become their place—the place where our national non-teaching staff meet at the end of every weekday. The gardeners, the cooks, the guards, the cleaners… the quiet ones who keep everything running behind the scenes. There’s always a bit of laughter as they settle down. Someone beats the drum, and before long, voices rise—deep, joyful, tired but full of life. The sound carries far, across the compound and into the hills. Worship begins. This is the most important part of their day. Their Bibles open. The drum slows. Someone prays. They talk, they listen, they read. They ask questions. They laugh again. And little by little, they grow.
There’s no microphone, no stage. Just real people, meeting God together under a mango tree. Men and women who have spent the whole day working hard—cooking, cleaning, digging, guarding—now sitting side by side, learning what it means to follow Jesus in the middle of their ordinary lives.
Sometimes I stand off to the side and just watch. And honestly, it moves me every time. This is what discipleship looks like here—not something written in a manual, but something lived out in the dust and heat of the afternoon.
We’re trying to help them see that faith isn’t just about knowing the Gospel; it’s about living it. Loving each other, forgiving, showing kindness, serving with joy. And you can see it taking root in them. You can see hearts being shaped into what the Lord wants them to be.
We make sure they understand the Word of God as it truly is—not twisted, not watered down, but clear and alive. We open it together, line by line, book by book, and talk about what it means for real life—for their homes, their work, their relationships. It’s not just reading; it’s letting the Word reach across into every part of who they are.
Everyone who comes through our gate is cared for. They are seen. They are loved. And at the end of every day, as the bell rings and voices rise in worship, I’m reminded that this—this simple, beautiful rhythm—is where change truly begins.
With Love from Lusanja