“I Am Not Worthy”

“He raiseth up the poor out of the dust, He lifteth up the needy from the dunghill, To make them sit with princes, And inherit the throne of glory” — 1 Samuel 2:8 (ASV)

By 1864 the Niger mission had African clergy at several stations, and it needed a bishop who could ordain more of them, confirm new believers and live among them. Henry Venn, the leader of the missionary society, believed the goal of a mission was to make itself unnecessary: plant a church, train local leaders, then step aside. His answer was obvious. The Niger should have a bishop of its own, and he should be an African. The obvious man was Samuel Crowther.

Not everyone agreed. Some European missionaries in West Africa had grave doubts about an African bishop and said so. The person who objected most strongly, though, was Crowther.

His son told this story years later, so hold it a little lightly, but it fits everything else we know. Crowther came to the committee in London in a heavy old pilot’s coat with brass buttons, and some members laughed at it. When Venn told him the plan, he said: “I am not worthy. No, sir, I am their servant in the field; I cannot accept it.” Venn sent him away for two days to think. He came back and refused again. Then Venn asked: “Samuel Adjai, my son, will you deny me my last wish asked of you before I die?” Crowther answered with old Eli’s words: “It is the Lord; let Him do what seemeth Him good.” The two men knelt together, and Venn wept.

On 29 June 1864, in Canterbury Cathedral, he was consecrated the first African bishop of the Anglican Church. According to his biographer, the naval officer who had freed him, now Admiral Sir Henry Leeke, was in the congregation. So was an elderly widow, Mrs. Weeks, who as Mrs. Davey had taught him at Bathurst. The story goes that she found her seat reserved for someone else and refused to move: “that black minister to be consecrated Bishop this morning was taught the alphabet by me.” She stayed.

One newspaper called the event a refutation of scientists who claimed Africans were mentally unfit for intellectual work. Think about that: in 1864 even Crowther’s supporters felt they had to argue that an African could think. And there were limits. He was made bishop only of lands “beyond the limits” of British territory. An African bishop over Africans was acceptable. An African bishop over Englishmen was not yet.

He asked to be addressed as “Right Reverend Bishop, and never as My Lord.” He told the committee he knew he was now “a kind of landmark” and that “any false step taken by me will be injurious to all the Native Churches.” Back in Africa, ordaining African clergy on the banks of the Niger, he wrote: “Can this be real?” In the same town, at the same time, a prince’s funeral included human sacrifices, among them a girl of eight. His title had changed. The Niger hadn’t. There was still everything to do.

Hannah’s song in 1 Samuel says God lifts the needy from the dust “to make them sit with princes.” Crowther’s mother, named after that Hannah, was still alive to see it. But notice how Crowther handled being lifted up: he didn’t want it, he didn’t grab it, and once he had it, he treated it as a weight, not a crown.

One thing to do this week: next time you’re given any kind of position, captain, leader, prefect, a role at church, try Crowther’s test: ask what it costs the people you serve if you take a false step. Then do one thing this week that serves someone who ranks “below” you.