All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them. (Hebrews 11: 13-16)
“Like ships passing in the night,” was how an old friend – still alive but whom I never see as he lives on the other side of the Atlantic – once described it. That sense of people coming in and out of your life in different seasons. Sometimes they can leave either a legacy of kindness or a legacy of pain.
Three church pastors exemplified Christikeness and this kindness to me – all of them now passed away and gone to glory with the Lord. Their names were Ted, Bob and Ken, and I knew them in different contexts and times in my life. I was only aware recently that the latter two have gone home. Ted was called heavenwards a few years ago. All of them were church leaders with profound callings to show pastoral care to people. Role models in every sense, they have left humble legacies of lovingkindness, which affected countless people.
Ted was the pastor of my church at university in St Andrews, Scotland. He was bold for the gospel, literally wearing a huge cross around his neck as a personal reminder of his call to live a sacrificial life for God, after a dear brother and church member called Terry died from cancer. He refused to apologise for preaching repeatedly, week after week, about the cross and grace of Christ. Every sermon would see him lay aside his big metal watch on the preaching stand and barely a Bible message would go by without him talking loudly about the shout of Jesus on the cross: “Tetelestai!” That is a Greek phrase, which means: “It is finished!”
In my last two years at university, I was blessed to be invited to Ted and his wife Deidre’s house many times after church for lunch alongside other students. He would cook ladles of onion soup and pot roast, and there was a bubbling sense of friendship as we conversed around his table, afterwards playing tunes on the piano. It was real fellowship and so representative of what the Lord did with his disciples, simply spending holy, loving time with each other.
Bob was a vicar and musician who did regular pastoral visits to a psychiatric hospital in the city where I now live. I knew him when I first came for a discipleship course nearly 25 years ago. I was volunteering full time at a church and a leader there put me in touch with Bob, so I could assist him. Once per week, this tall, gentle and friendly man would allow me to accompany him to the mental healthcare facility, so that I could help him with his work. The hospital was an old, formidable site with archaic architecture and high chimneys. It looked like a factory and inside the wards were broken down to cater for specific mental care needs. For example, a section for extreme dementia and another section for debilitating depression, etc. I remember seeing a bearded man escorted in chains by two security guards, goodness knows what that was about! Another lady I conversed with told me she liked biting people’s necks. It was an unnerving place for a fresh-out-of-college young man, like me. In the dementia unit, there was an elderly lady who was convinced I was her boyfriend and I had to politely put some distance between us when she tried to leap on me!
However, Bob brought the kingdom of God into that place. I pulled his portable music organ on wheels around the wards and would stand by, attempting to sing as Bob belted out old hymns and then gave short sermons, as the severely unwell people slumped on chairs and stared at him. However, it was the hospital chapel services that were most profound.
Bob would prepare Holy Communion and set up the table. A few patients would sit or stand by the pews as he followed the Anglican rituals for taking the bread and wine. As he did so, a few patients would gather around him, as he read out Biblical passages about Jesus sharing the Last Supper with his first followers. I recall a lady calling out loudly, “I don’t take alcohol, Father” to Bob who carried on as she and others shuffled slowly around the Communion table, like lost little birds in a dance, waiting to be fed.
Bob was unperturbed by the repeated interruptions by the patients, calmly distributing the bread and wine in remembrance of Jesus. To me, he exemplified Christ in the graceful way he dealt with such vulnerable people, who were so dearly loved by the Lord. These poorly men and women found acceptance in the Lord through Bob’s reassuring presence, despite their personal circumstances. It was a very visual representation of the gospel.
Ken was a pastor at a pentecostal church in the same city. I first met him when I worked at a ‘Friendship Cafe’ serving homeless people nearly 25 years ago. It’s the same place where I met my late mentor, discipler and father-in-the-faith, John Price. I find it a strange thought now, remembering the wonderful older people working there, who have gone to be with the Lord – always resounding with joy and laughter. John with his rich smile, laugh and tender care towards those coming through the door. Ralph – not sure what happened to him – cracking endless jokes. Milwyn, an industrious, dignified 80-year-old group leader, directing people to the tables. His wife would constantly turn eggs over in the frying pan and always made sure I was fed as well! And then there was Pastor Ken, as everyone called him. He would greet the homeless folk and lead them into the office if they had specific needs such as finding accommodation or needing clothes or simply wanting prayer. A local nurse would come in and work with Ken, looking after their minor health needs.
Pastor Ken was a humble but ever-present leader. With a steady smile, he trusted everyone with their responsibilities but was always at hand to help, to guide, and to give wisdom when needed. Ken once prayed with me and John, just the three of us in the empty church hall – for me to receive a baptism in the Holy Spirit. Nothing seemed to happen but a couple of years later, I went to see another church leader in my hometown and prayed with him and received the gift of tongues. I realise now that the seed was planted in that prayer time with Pastor Ken and John. Didn’t the apostle Paul once write, one person sows and another waters?
“I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow. So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow.” (1 Cor 3: 6-7)
Pastor Ken also invited me to become his assistant and I have always regretted that I said no. I felt a need to go back to my hometown to help with some personal issues not directly related to me. I wonder what would have happened if I had stayed though – perhaps I would have become a church leader one day? It’s all a mystery. But one thing I do know is that Ken’s pastoral care of people, his warm heart, still stands as an example for me to follow and imitate in any way I can.
Help me Lord, to be a man like Ken, and Bob and Ted!
I feel a sense of grief that these great men are no longer here. But they have gone to receive their reward with the Lord. And God reminded me this morning of all the new people he has brought into my life. Firstly, my wife and three dear children. I actually baptised my younger daughter recently at my new church, not far from the former homeless cafe site, where I once worked with Pastor Ken and John. Imagine if you had told me as a young man in my twenties, working in that homeless cafe, that one day I would baptise my daughter a few hundred yards away? God always has a plan.
And then there are the men from Christian Vision for Men, the online prayer group I belong to, which involves mature believers from across the world. They have been stalwarts of the faith and their prayers have made all the difference, especially when I was recovering from the brain bleed nearly two years ago. All of them are fathers in the faith. Also, this Autumn one of the readers of this blog is actually coming to visit my family, with his wife – all the way from the USA. He’s become a friend from afar, how amazing is that?
When one door shuts, another opens. When one person we love goes to be with the Lord, the Lord himself will provide friendship and fellowship in a new direction.
More than anything, let’s be reminded that those who have gone before us have now joined that cloud of witnesses shouting to us “Come on!” We need to keep running that race to Jesus, loving him and loving others to the utmost. Sharing the good news of salvation in Christ, in whatever context we find ourselves in. Picking up the pace in boldly proclaiming the gospel!
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. (Hebrews 12: 1-3)
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