Category: Podcast

Talk 8 Between Brentwood and Brasenose (1956-59) Part 1

Welcome to Talk 8 in our series where I’m reflecting on the goodness of God throughout my life.

I left school in December 1956 and started my course at Oxford in October 1959, a period of almost three years. In many ways it seemed a long time to wait, but in the plan and purpose of God they turned out to be highly significant years. I gained experience in teaching. I met Eileen, the girl who was to be lifelong partner. And I received the life-changing experience of the baptism in the Holy Spirit. But first, I need to explain how I got my place at Oxford and why I had to wait three years before taking it up.

Gaining my place at Oxford

In 1956, at the age of seventeen, I had already passed my A Levels and had decided to stay on at school a further year to take S Levels the following summer. S Levels – the S stands for Scholarship – were the highest level of GCE exams that you could take and were designed to support your application to university, especially if you were hoping to go to Oxbridge.

However, as things turned out, I did not need to complete my S Level course because in the first term of that school year I was awarded a scholarship to read Philosophy, Politics and Economics at Brasenose College, Oxford. Our form master, Mr. Rennie, had suggested that some of us might like to spend a few days in Oxford and take some examinations at Brasenose College with a view to obtaining a place there.

As there was only one place available I was not expecting to get it. But I decided to go even though my friend, John Bramble, was going too and I thought he was far more likely to be successful. He had always come higher than me in class and had gained better A Level results than I had.

There were about eight of us altogether, each of us taking different exam papers, generally depending on what subjects we had taken at A level. There was just one paper that was the same for all of us, an English essay, the title of which was unknown to us until we sat down in the examination room. And that title was WORDS.

The length of that exam was three hours and, although some boys started writing almost immediately, I spent the first 45 minutes planning my essay. I can’t remember in great detail the contents of that essay but I know that I concluded it by talking about Christ, the word made flesh, the divine logos, the ultimate revelation of God Himself.

I have sometimes wondered if the reason I was awarded the scholarship rather than any of my colleagues was that the Lord was honouring me because I had honoured him. Of course, I can’t be sure about that, but he had helped me through my A levels when I had honoured him before the whole class when my History master had told me that I was likely to fail, and I have always sought to give God the glory for any academic success I may have achieved.

And I discovered later that, of all the papers I sat during that visit to Brasenose, that essay on WORDS was awarded the highest grade – an alpha. But when I received a letter from Brasenose offering me a scholarship a few weeks later, I was totally amazed and, after discussing it with my father, I came to the conclusion that this had to be God.

But there was just one problem. The place they were offering me was for three years later in October 1959, after I had completed my two years National Service. However, the Government had already agreed to abolish National Service and were in the process of phasing it out gradually.

They did this by delaying the ‘call-up’ which meant, in my case, that by the time they would have called me up, there would be less than two years before my course at Oxford was starting. In short, I would not have time to do National Service and, by the time I had finished my course at Oxford, National Service had been abolished completely.

So, having obtained my place at Oxford, I decided to leave school at the end of term in December and start to earn some money. And at the time there was a great shortage of schoolteachers, as a result of which young people who had passed their A levels could do ‘uncertificated teaching’ before going to university, and so I ended up doing almost three years’ teaching before I went to Oxford.

Gaining experience in teaching

And, surprisingly enough, it started at the very school I had just left. Or, to be more precise, it was at the Preparatory School attached to Brentwood and standing just on the other side of the main playing field. One of the teachers was on sickness leave for a few weeks and I was asked if I would take their place as they taught French and Latin which were of course my two main A Level subjects.

As it was a boarding school, I was required to live in and be the housemaster for some of the boys, which mainly involved making sure that they were in bed on time and not talking after a certain time. I was only there for a few weeks (January 15 to February 16), but I enjoyed the experience very much and learnt a great deal, not least of which was that, if you prepared your lessons thoroughly, you had relatively few problems with discipline.

After Brentwood Prep I was told by the Essex Education Committee that another job was available in Brentwood, at the Church of England Primary School in Coptfold Road, only a few hundred yards from my old school. A teacher was on maternity leave and a replacement was needed until July to look after her class of 8 to 9 year-olds. The pay wasn’t great as I was not a qualified teacher. It worked out at about half what I would have been paid if I had been qualified. And, of course, this was not a residential post, so I needed to travel on two buses each day to get there from Hornchurch. But I accepted the job anyway.

 

As in most primary schools, a teacher was responsible for teaching their class throughout the day all the subjects on the timetable. That was not a problem, but learning to keep discipline was another matter. My expectations were based on the level of discipline I had experienced as a pupil at Brentwood and the few weeks I had spent teaching at Brentwood Prep.

Coptfold Road was quite another matter. Many of the children came from a less fortunate background and some of them were of rather limited intelligence. As a result, and due to my own lack of training and experience, and lack of any supervision, I found the two terms I was in charge of that class extremely difficult, and was quite relieved when I heard towards the end of the summer term that Mrs. Istead, the teacher who had been on maternity leave, was returning the following Monday.

So on the Friday before she was due to return I was clearing my desk after school when the headmaster, Dr. Ward, asked me what I was doing, adding, You’re not leaving, are you? And he offered to give me a different class to teach and keep me on indefinitely until I went up to Oxford. So I decided to stay and, as things turned out, I was there until the end of September 1959, my ability to keep discipline improving greatly with experience and the help of a Day School Teachers’ Conference organised by the Baptist Union and held at St. Augustine’s College, Canterbury in August 1957.

As I look back on those years of teaching before I went to Oxford, I think I can see why God allowed it to happen that way. While I was waiting I was rather frustrated, thinking, Why am I teaching when God has called me to the ministry? But little did I know then that his plan for me was that most of my ministry would be teaching.

And although the major part of my teaching ministry has been to a different age group, even when teaching at degree level in Bible Colleges around the world, I have found that God has given me the ability to teach at a level that everyone can understand, something I repeatedly hear from grateful listeners. And perhaps at least part of that ability is a result of those years I spent teaching less able children while waiting to go to university.

God knows what he is doing, and he always has a purpose in what appear to us to be pointless pauses in our lives. But that brings me to an even more significant purpose in those years of waiting, for it was in those years that I met Eileen, the girl I was to marry and who was to be the ideal person to support me in my ministry.

Meeting Eileen

It was an incredibly hot day that Saturday afternoon. So hot in fact that the railway line buckled in the heat of the sun. It was Saturday 29th June, 1957 and we had arranged a youth rally where the young people from Elm Park Baptist would meet up with Hornchurch Baptist young people for fun and games in the park followed by an open air service.

Although the churches were only two miles apart, before then we had had little contact with them, so I actually knew none of the young people there. People have often asked me how I met Eileen and I have usually replied, In the park!

After a game of rounders, we sat down in groups and had a picnic tea. I noticed a group of four rather attractive girls sitting a few yards away and thought I would like to take a closer look!

So I got up and walked towards them and happened to notice that one of them had taken her shoes off. On impulse, I picked up one of the shoes and ran off with it, with nothing in particular in mind other than just having a bit of fun. Needless to say, the owner of the shoe ran after me but was at something of a disadvantage as she had bare feet. I soon disappeared from view and hid the shoe under the bridge that spanned the park lake.

Of course, when she caught up with me, I felt a bit of an idiot and showed her where the shoe was. We got into conversation and I asked her if she would like to come to our Saturday evening youth club which took place after the open air service. She agreed and, after sharing a song sheet at the open air, I found out that her name was Eileen and that she was just six days older than me. After youth club I walked her home and kissed her goodnight. And that was the beginning of a relationship that lasted, with a short break, for 67 years and which ended only when the Lord called her home at the age of 85.

We agreed to meet again some time the following week, but the next day, after attending church in the morning, I decided to go to Hornchurch Baptist for their evening service in the hope of seeing Eileen again. She and her friend were sitting in the choir and her friend noticed me in the congregation and said to Eileen, He’s here!

After the service we went for a long walk in the park and from then on were to see each other just about every day. I discovered that Eileen had attended Romford County High School and had left after taking her O levels. At the time she was working at Barts (St. Bartholemew’s Hospital) in London, but a year later she accepted a post in the Dagenham Education Office which was closer to home.

But before that, I have to confess that there was a short break in our relationship during the last few months of 1957. I mentioned earlier that I attended a conference in Canterbury during the last week in August of that year. Everyone there was a qualified schoolteacher with the exception of me and one other person, a girl called Irene who was the same age as me and had been accepted to train as a teacher at the Chelsea College for Physical Education in Eastbourne.

Irene was extremely attractive, highly intelligent, and very good at sport – she was nearly good enough to beat me at table tennis! But she was having doubts about her faith, and I spent some time with her trying to encourage her. As a result we were both very attracted to each other and, to cut the story short, because I have never been proud of myself about this, we started to see each other after the conference was over.

When I next saw Eileen I told her, without mentioning Irene, that I felt we had been seeing too much of each other, that our relationship had been getting too intense – which it probably was – and that I thought we should cool it and not see each other for a while.

She later told me that she had not been too concerned because she was convinced that if I was the right one for her, the Lord would bring me back to her. Which he did. The relationship with Irene lasted only a few weeks – until the middle of October, when I went to Eastbourne for a weekend to see her at her college. In short, she jilted me!

But not long before Christmas the young people from Hornchurch Baptist came to Elm Park to take our Friday evening YPF meeting. And who should be singing in the choir but Eileen. I think we spoke briefly after the meeting, just polite conversation, but it was enough to arouse my interest in her again. So I sent her a Christmas card, and she replied by sending me one and enclosing this short poem:

I do believe that God above created you for me to love.

He picked you out from all the rest because he knew I’d love you best.

I had a heart so warm and true, but now it’s gone from me to you.

Take care of it as I have done, for you have two and I have none.

Not the best poetry in the world, but it touched my heart and I wrote to Eileen – I still have a copy of that letter – asking if she would like to resume our relationship. And from January 2^nd 1958 hardly a day passed without our seeing each other.

 

Talk 7 Elm Park Baptist Church (1951-1958) Part 2

Welcome to Talk 7 in our series where I’m reflecting on God’s goodness to me throughout my life. Today I’m going to tell you about my decision to follow Christ, my baptism and church membership, and my call to the ministry.

My decision to follow Christ

As I mentioned in an earlier talk, I cannot remember a time when I did not believe in Jesus, and, when at the age of eight I was asked by my father if I believed that Jesus had died for me, my immediate answer was yes. That was, after all, what I had been brought up to believe. But there is more to salvation than believing. Jesus began his ministry by preaching,

The time has come…Repent and believe the gospel (Mark 1:15).

The fact that Jesus loved us enough to die for our sins demands a response. If we truly believe it, we will repent, because we will hate the fact that our sins made it necessary for Jesus to suffer and die in our place. And true repentance will involve not just being sorry. It will entail a decision to turn from our sin, and to dedicate our whole life to him.

I made that decision in April 1953 at the age of fourteen. Why it took so long I’m not quite sure. I remember that when I was about eleven my Sunday School Teacher asked us if we would like to ‘ask Jesus to come into our hearts’ and for some reason I didn’t respond. I think that part of the reason was embarrassment. I didn’t want my parents and some of my aunts making a fuss and saying how wonderful it was that David had ‘made a decision’. So what eventually prompted me to surrender to the claims of Christ and give my life to him?

Of course the correct theological answer to that question is the convicting power of the Holy Spirit working through the preaching of the Word of God. And that must have been what was happening, although I didn’t realise it at the time. For several weeks in Bible Class my father had been preaching on John 3:16. Week by week I was constantly challenged by the thought that, if God loved me so much that he gave his only Son to die on the cross and save me from my sins, surely the very least I could do would be to give my life to him.

So the major driving force behind my decision to do just that was undoubtedly the love of God. But that was not the only factor. There was also the fear of hell. And I think that may have been what finally clinched it. I was made very aware of the reality of hell through the preaching of Evangelist Tom Rees one Saturday night in the Central Hall, Westminster.

Elm Park was only an hour’s journey from central London and a group of us had travelled in to hear him ^[1]. Towards the close of his sermon, he stressed the dangers of rejecting Christ, and when he made the appeal I knew that I should stand up along with the many others who were responding to his message. But once again I resisted. My pride was holding me back. I didn’t want to make a public declaration that I was a sinner who needed to be saved.

 

 

My baptism

But the next day everything changed. There was to be a baptismal service in the evening and during the day my mother asked me if I had ever thought of being baptised, and I found myself saying yes. I understood very well that her question was not merely about being baptised. It carried with it part of the significance of baptism, the confession of Jesus Christ as my Saviour, my Lord, and my God.

And so that evening when the minister made the appeal at the end of his sermon, while the congregation was singing the closing hymn, I walked forward with several other young people to indicate publicly my decision to give my life to Jesus and my desire to obey him by being baptised.

The next baptismal service was arranged for July 19^th, so there were several weeks to wait. But that gave us the opportunity to attend weekly baptismal classes at the ‘manse’, the name given to the house where the minister lived. Each week he taught us the basics about the Christian life, paying special attention to the subject of baptism, and explaining why infant baptism, which is practised in some churches, is not biblical ^[2].

However, there was no teaching on the baptism in the Holy Spirit, which was something I did not hear about until I met some Pentecostal Christians a few years later. Nevertheless, I did find the minister’s teaching very helpful, and I think that’s why, when I became a pastor myself, I decided to provide similar classes for all those wanting to be baptised. In fact, the talks that I gave were later to form the basis of the contents of my little book, How to Live for Jesus. And of course they did include teaching on the baptism in the Spirit.

When the day scheduled for the baptismal service finally arrived, the baptisms took place at the end of the Sunday evening service. The minister, who was dressed in black waterproof clothing, went down into the water first. Then, one at a time, the candidates went down to be baptised and each of us was asked by name,

Do you acknowledge Jesus Christ as your Saviour, your Lord, and your God?

To which we replied, I do.

Then the minister would say,

Then on the confession of your faith and repentance towards God, I baptise you in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

He then immediately baptised us, leaning us backwards into the water, dipping us right under (because that’s the meaning of the word baptise) and as we came up out of the water the whole church would sing,

            Follow, follow, I would follow Jesus, Anywhere, everywhere, I would follow on.

            Follow, follow, I would follow Jesus, Anywhere he leads me I will follow on.

And that is something I can honestly say I have tried to do ever since. And now, 72 years later, I have no regrets. The pathway he has led, and is still leading me on, has been wonderful. It has not always been easy, but it’s been far better than going my own way. God’s way is always best.

Church membership

After baptism, the next step was to become a church member. Of course, from the perspective of the New Testament, we all become members of the church the moment we receive Christ as our Saviour. We become members of the universal church which is comprised of all Christians, those already in Heaven, the church triumphant, and those still on earth, the worldwide church, the church militant. Our membership of that church remains permanent as long as we remain Christians.

But which local church we belong to may vary from time to time according to where we are living. And, of course, in any one area there may be several different local churches, which has sadly resulted in some Christians having no real commitment to any one local church and acknowledging no real accountability to any church leadership.

This is why many local churches, while recognising that all Christians who worship with them are members of the body of Christ, the universal church, nevertheless insist that to be a member of their local church a person must identify with the doctrinal beliefs of that church, acknowledge their accountability to the leadership and their fellow church members, and show a genuine commitment to that church.

And that was what was expected of me when, shortly after my baptism, I asked to become a member of Elm Park Baptist Church. The application process was simple. I had to ask someone who was already a member to be my sponsor. After a friendly interview he brought a report to the next Church Members’ Meeting and my name, together with the names of other young people who had been baptised at the same time as me, was put to the vote. As a result we were all accepted into membership.

Church membership carried with it the privilege of being able to join in the discussions at church meetings and included the right to vote, even for those of the minimum age for membership, which was just fourteen. I always enjoyed those meetings, which were held every two months. Being able to participate in decision making meant that I felt a sense of responsibility and I was constantly aware of developments in the church programme.

Now I realise that different churches operate in many different ways and that some leaders are hesitant to involve the members in this kind of way for fear of the kind of unpleasantness that I have heard has gone on in some church meetings. All I can say to that is that, in my experience, the advantages of involving the people in decision making on important matters far outweigh any disadvantages.

What’s more, the dangers of abuse and corruption that so often have taken place when all the power is vested in a few, or even in just one person, must be avoided at all costs. I do believe that leadership should lead, and lead by example. But to be a leader is not the same as being a dictator. If you are really a leader, people will follow you. That’s why, as a church leader, I have never been afraid to ask the people to endorse any major decisions made by the leadership team. But that brings me to my call to ministry.

My call to ministry

As a teenager, of course, my understanding of church and church leadership was very much determined by my limited experience of  Elm Park Baptist Church. Like most people then, and many people still today, I assumed that a local church must be led by a man called the minister or vicar. It was his responsibility to lead and preach at all the services and that, to do this, he needed to have received a special call from God.

So when I refer to my call to the ministry I am using the expression in the way that I understood things back then. I have since come to see things very differently, and that will become evident in later talks. For now, it will be enough to say that I now understand that the word minister simply means servant and that, since all God’s people are called to serve him, all God’s people are in a sense ministers. But that is not to say that some people do not receive a special call to some particular area of service.

In my particular case, I now realise that other people may have seen in me the potential to become a preacher long before I realised it myself. I was only fourteen when I was asked to give a short talk in the Sunday evening service at my church. It was what was called a Youth Sunday when the young people from my father’s Bible class were asked to take responsibility for the service.

Three of us were asked to speak for five minutes each and my father gave us help as to what we might say. That was my first experience of public speaking and, to my surprise, the following year I was invited to take on the preaching single handed. Then, another year later, I was asked to preach at the Sunday morning service. I am so grateful to the church leaders for spotting the potential that was in me and giving me the opportunity to develop it.

Even then, however, although I enjoyed preaching, I did not feel any sense of call. That came when I attended a Baptist Church summer school held at Mamhead, not many miles from where I now live in beautiful Devon. Mamhead House, built in the nineteenth century regardless of cost and set in 164 acres of glorious parkland overlooking Lyme Bay and Exmouth has been described as ‘Devon’s grandest country mansion’.

Summer School was a holiday for young Christians which included sessions of teaching until 11:00 AM and evening meetings for worship and further teaching after the evening meal. The rest of the day was taken up with leisure activities which included trips to the nearby seaside town of Dawlish, coach trips to Dartmoor, and rambles in the countryside surrounding Mamhead.

I attended Summer School there for three years in succession from 1954 to 1956. But it was in 1955 that the Lord clearly spoke to me about my future. I had completed my O Levels in 1954 and was now halfway through my A Level course and beginning to think about my future. But I wasn’t particularly looking for guidance at that point as I was expecting to go to university after my A Levels and felt I had plenty of time to make up my mind.

 

 

Then, one evening, after the preacher had finished speaking and we had sung the final song, the Revd. Cyril Rushbridge, who had been leading the meeting, said something like this:

This isn’t part of what we had planned for this evening, but I just feel that the Lord wants me to tell you how I felt my call to the ministry.

He went on to explain that he had had no dramatic experience like Saul on the road to Damascus but described in a simple way how he had ‘received his call’. Unfortunately, I can’t remember the details of what he said. All I can tell you is that when he had finished speaking I just knew that God wanted me to be a minister. And to clinch it, Kathleen O’Connor, a girl from our church came up to me as soon as the meeting had finished and said,

David, do you now know what God wants you to do with your life?

To which I replied,

Yes, Kate, I’m going to be a minister.

I later went and spoke with the Revd. Rex Mason, a graduate of Regent’s Park College, Oxford, who had been the preacher that evening and asked for his advice. He had read English (I think) at St Edmund Hall, Oxford, before going on the read Theology at Regent’s Park. He recommended that I do something similar, widening my outlook on life by taking a degree in something different before concentrating on Theology.

The next thing to do was to let my parents know what had happened and, as I was away at Mamhead for at least another week, I sent them a postcard saying something like,

I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve decided to be a minister!

And when I got home they told me something they had never told me before. They had prayed for this from before I was born.

I also told my minister, the Revd. Leslie H. Moxham, about my call to the ministry and asked if there was anything I could do immediately to start to prepare for what God was calling me to. And he suggested that I start attending the midweek Prayer and Bible Study meeting, something I had not done because of all my other commitments to church activities. So I did what he suggested and was not disappointed. He was a great Bible teacher and I learnt a lot in those meetings, even though, as I have already mentioned, the number of meetings got me into trouble with my History teacher at school.

So looking back, I am very grateful to God for my years at Elm Park Baptist and, although I was to move on when I was baptised in the Spirit in 1959, my remaining years there were to prove some of the most exciting and significant years of my life.

But that’s the subject of the next talk.

 

Talk 6. Elm Park Baptist Church (1951-1958) Part One

 

Welcome to Talk 6 in our series where I’m reflecting on God’s goodness to me throughout my life. In the last two episodes I have been talking about my experiences at Brentwood School. Today we’re turning to my time at Elm Park Baptist Church.

 

One great advantage of being a day boy rather than a boarder at Brentwood School was that I was free on Sundays to attend church. It also meant that I came into regular contact with girls, something which was seriously lacking for boys who were boarders.

 

This, I think, was quite important for me because, as an only child, I had no sisters, but at least through the activities of the local church I was able to form healthy relationships with the opposite sex. In fact I suspect that as a teenager the girls were one of the attractions of going to church! And at Elm Park Baptist there were plenty of activities to choose from. So let’s begin by talking about the church programme.

 

Church programme

Unlike many churches today where there is only one meeting on a Sunday and another, perhaps, during the week, at our church something was happening every single day of the week. Of course, Sunday was the busiest day. From 10-11am the Boys’ Brigade held their Bible Class. From 11-12 there was the Morning Service.

 

In the afternoon there was Sunday School from 2.30-3.30 and again from 3.30-4.30, the numbers attending being so great that two separate sessions were necessary. For teenagers there was Bible Class (taught by my father) followed by a discussion group for young people held between 4 and 5pm.

 

Very often we stayed at church for tea in order to be there for the 6.30 Evening Service which was then followed by a ‘sing-song’ at about 8pm. In fact, apart from going home at lunch time for the traditional Sunday roast prepared by my mother, as a teenager I was at church from 10am to 9pm every Sunday.

 

During the week, meetings for young people included the Boys’ Brigade, the Girls’ Life Brigade, the Young People’s Fellowship (YPF), and the Youth Club. For adults there was a midweek meeting for Prayer and Bible Study conducted by the Minister, and there were separate men’s meetings and women’s meetings too. All these activities took place on church premises. There were never any home groups in those days. That was something that became popular in the 1970s.

 

My personal involvement

I was personally involved in most of the activities I’ve just mentioned. This was not the result of any parental coercion. I just wanted to be there and, as I have already mentioned, on Sundays I was at church for almost the whole day. This was from the age of 14 until I was about 17.  It was largely through my father’s teaching in Bible Class on Sunday afternoons that I decided to give my life to Jesus – but more of that later.

Dad was a gifted preacher and teacher, and the majority of the thirty or more young people attending Bible Class made decisions for Christ as a result of his ministry. Whenever there was a baptismal service on a Sunday evening, Mum and Dad would invite three or four young people to come for tea after Bible Class and then go on to the service after tea.

 

Over the years, many of those young people responded to the appeal at the end of the service and walked forward to indicate that they were giving their lives to Jesus and would like to be baptised. One of those young people was my friend, Don Campbell, who emigrated to Australia and, when I last heard from him two or three years ago, he was still attending a Baptist church over there.

 

Apart from the Bible Class I attended on Sunday afternoons, I also went to the Boys’ Brigade Bible Class every Sunday morning. The Boys’ Brigade was found by Sir William Smith in 1886. If I remember it correctly, its purpose was:

The advancement of Christ’s kingdom among boys, and the promotion of habits of obedience, reverence, discipline, self-respect, and all that tends towards a true Christian manliness.

 

As well as the Sunday morning Bible Class, our company, which was known as the Second Hornchurch Company of the Boys’ Brigade, held two other meetings each week. Tuesday evenings were dedicated to drill practice, where, after we had been inspected to ensure that we were smartly dressed and our uniforms were being worn correctly, we learned how to stand to attention correctly, to salute the Lieutenants and Captain, and to do basic marching manoeuvres both individually and as company.

 

When I was seventeen and had been promoted to the rank of sergeant I was awarded the N.C.O’s Proficiency Star after demonstrating that I could give the correct commands for the Company to make these manoeuvres on drill parade.

 

Of course all this was exactly the same kind of thing the other boys at my school were doing in the CCF and I realise that some might see my being in the Boys’ Brigade as quite inconsistent with my refusal to join the CCF on the grounds that I was a conscientious objector. However, unlike the boys in the CCF, in the BB we were not taught to use military weapons.

 

On Fridays, time was given for more recreational activities, and opportunity was given to learn to play the bugle or a drum. After a couple of attempts at making the right sound come out of a bugle – it’s by no means as simple as just blowing – I decided it wasn’t for me. This was partly because at the time I found it difficult to sing in tune and I reasoned that if I couldn’t sing properly I probably wouldn’t be able to keep in tune on the bugle either! And sadly all the drums were already allocated to other boys.

 

But perhaps the best thing about the BB was its annual camp. This took place every year during the school summer holidays. Wherever it was held, it was always within walking distance of the sea.

My first camp was a great adventure for me as, at the age of twelve, I had never been away from home without my parents. It was held in Mudeford on the south coast of England, and I loved it. I went to BB camp on six occasions, Mudeford (1951), Highcliffe in Dorset (1952), Walmer in Kent (1953, ’54, and ’55), and Corton in Suffolk (1956).

 

It was fun sleeping in a field with six other boys in a tent, each with a straw-filled sack called a paillasse (pronounced pally ass!) as a mattress, your kit bag as a pillow, and only a couple of rough, rather itchy, blankets to keep you warm. If sleeping-bags were invented back then, we’d certainly never heard of them! I say it was fun, and it was, just rather uncomfortable fun.

 

And, of course, the first night we hardly slept. And when we did finally get to sleep it wasn’t long before we awakened by the musical notes of the bugle playing Reveille. Time to get up, get washed and dressed and go to the toilet. The toilets or ‘latrines’ were just holes in the ground dug the day before by the ‘advance party’ who had travelled down earlier to prepare the camp site, and the washing facilities were just metal bowls of cold water on trestle tables.

 

Every day was punctuated with a variety of bugle calls summoning us to ‘fall in’ (form a line outside our tents), or telling us that the next meal was ready, and so on, until the final call of the day, which was ‘lights out.’ Apart from mealtimes, activities included getting your tent ready for ‘tent inspection’ each morning, doing chores like peeling potatoes (otherwise known as ‘spud-bashing’), going down to the beach for a supervised swim, leisure activities such as football and cricket, and a certain amount of free time.

 

There were also various devotional activities, like a service in the marquee on Sunday mornings and, if I remember correctly, a Bible reading and short word from the camp padre after breakfast on other days. But for most boys, the majority of whom did not come from Christian homes, the ‘religious’ bits were something you endured rather than enjoyed in order to be allowed to join in the fun that the other aspects of BB had to offer. In fact, as far as I know, sadly, very few of the fifty boys in the company ever made a decision for Christ.

 

The benefits for me, however, were inestimable. BB instilled in me the need for personal discipline and loyalty. It gave me the opportunity to mix with boys who were from a very different social background from most of my friends at Brentwood School. It gave me experience in leadership, and it taught me a great deal about how to organise a camp – something that was to prove very valuable when later, in pastoral ministry, I was able year after year to run a Youth Camp for up to 150 teenagers where we saw dozens of young people saved and filled with the Holy Spirit. But that’s a story for a later talk.

 

Apart from the uniformed organisations like the BB and the GLB (Girls’ Life Brigade, a title later to be abbreviated to Girls’ Brigade), there were three other weekly opportunities for young people to meet together.

 

 

 

I have already mentioned the teenage Bible Class led by my father on Sunday afternoons, but I also attended the YPF (Young People’s Fellowship) on Friday evenings and Youth Club on Saturday evenings.

 

YPF was an opportunity for young Christians to meet together to worship the Lord, pray, share testimonies, and learn from the Word. There was also plenty of time for discussion, which was something I particularly enjoyed. It took place in what was called the parlour, which even then was a rather old-fashioned term for a lounge. This was at the back of the church building, right next to the kitchen, so conveniently situated for making hot drinks at the end of the meeting.

 

The Youth Club was primarily intended to be an opportunity for evangelism. Held in the Youth Hall, part of the church’s property but separate from the main building, it provided facilities for table-tennis, snooker, darts etc. and was followed by a fifteen-minute epilogue which included a hymn, a prayer and a short message.

 

Looking back on it, I think that, although it was valuable as a means of keeping young people off the streets, Youth Club was not an effective tool of evangelism. Most of the forty or so young people who came to it never came to any of the other church activities and I cannot remember any who became Christians as a result of it.

 

But that is not to say that such activities can never be effective. Perhaps if it had been led by someone with a clear evangelistic gift the results might have been very different. I was later to learn that for effective evangelism there is no substitute for the power of the Holy Spirit. That is what will attract people to Jesus, and that is what will keep them going on with God. But that’s a subject for later.

 

Next time I’ll be sharing how at Elm Park Baptist I first dedicated my life to Christ, was baptised, became a church member, started to preach, and felt God calling me to become a minister of the Gospel.

 

 

My Story   Talk 5   Brentwood School (1950-1956) Part Two

Welcome to Talk 5 in our series where I’m reflecting on God’s goodness to me throughout my life. Today we’re talking about the academic programme at Brentwood, the chaplain, the chapel and Divinity lessons, and the school CCF.

 

Academic Programme

A typical day at Brentwood began with chapel or assembly at 8.50am. This lasted about half an hour. Lessons, which were all 45 minutes long, began at 9.30. The first two periods were followed by a 15 minute break at 11am and the next two periods were followed by lunch at 1pm. With the exception of Wednesdays and Saturdays which were dedicated to sporting activities, there were three periods each afternoon, beginning at 1.45 and ending at 4pm.

 

And then of course there was homework, which at Brentwood was called prep. In the first year this was expected to take us an hour and a half each evening, increasing to three hours when you were in the sixth form taking A levels. This often involved memorizing things on which you were going to be tested the next day.

 

And there were huge incentives for doing your prep thoroughly. Apart from the fact that you might be put in detention on Wednesday afternoon if you failed the test, a form order was produced every two or three weeks and sent home to your parents to let them know your current position in class. This certainly kept us on our toes, and, although at Brentwood I never came top as I had regularly done at primary school, I made sure I was always in the top 10.

 

Subjects in our first year, all of which were compulsory, included English, French, Latin, Maths, History, Geography, Physics, Art or Woodwork, Divinity (Religious Education), and Gym. But after the first year, which at Brentwood was referred to as the second form, the system changed and the subjects you took depended on which stream you had chosen to enter.

 

The Third Form (i.e. the second year) was divided into four streams, Classical Three, Science Three, Modern Three, and General Three. The advantage of this system was that boys could concentrate early on the areas where they hoped to specialise later. The disadvantage was, of course, that not everyone was at all sure at such a young age of what those future areas might be. It also meant that relatively little teaching was given on some quite important subjects. For example, you did relatively little science if you went into the classical stream.

 

However, in my case, I think the system proved beneficial. I opted for the classical stream because I was interested in languages and had shown that I had a measure of ability in that area. In doing so I was able to begin studying Greek at the age of 12 which was to prove important in what the Lord had for me in the future.

 

 

 

At the age of 15, when we were in the fifth form, we all took O-level exams (General Certificate of Education, Ordinary Level), after which another choice had to be made.  Which sixth form stream to enter? Although successful in all my exams, my best results were in languages, and of all the streams available the choice for me was narrowed down to Lower Sixth Classics where I could take Latin, Greek, and Classical History, or Lower Six Arts where the options were Latin or English Literature, French, and German or Mediaeval History. Not knowing then the future God had planned for me, I opted for the Arts stream and chose Latin, French, and Mediaeval History for my A-level subjects and Spanish as a subsidiary subject for O-level.

 

I thank God that, with his help, I passed all these exams. I was particularly grateful about History. A few months before we were due to sit the exams, my history teacher, Mr. Moulde, said to me,

 

Quite honestly, Petts, I think you’re going to fail History.

 

The basic reason for this was that I wasn’t doing enough prep because of all the church activities I was engaged in because, among other things, halfway through my A-level course I had felt God calling me to the ministry. But more about that in the next talk. So, in front of the whole class, I replied,

 

The problem is, Sir, that I believe that God has called me to be a minister, and that to gain as much experience as I can, I need to be involved as much as possible in my local church. I believe that if I honour God, and if he wants me to pass History, then he will help me to do so.

 

To which he replied,

 

Well, Petts, I respect your faith, but I can’t say that I agree with you. Unless you put in a lot more work, you will certainly fail.

 

I did try to put in more work on History without giving up any of my church activities. When the results came through I was delighted to discover that I had scored 60% (the pass mark being 40). And at the beginning of the next term, as I happened to meet Mr. Moulde in the quad, he said to me with a broad smile,

 

Well, Petts, what do you mean by getting 60? I would never have believed it. Congratulations.

 

Later that term I won a scholarship at Brasenose College, Oxford to read Philosophy, Politics and Economics. But more of that in a later talk. I need now to say more about my Christian faith while I was at Brentwood. This, of course, needs to be understood alongside my experience at Elm Park Baptist Church which will be the subject of our next talk. At school I was to get a taste of a different kind of Christianity, some of which wasn’t Christianity at all as I understood it. But this will become clear in a moment.

 

The Chaplain, the Chapel, and Divinity lessons

The religious climate in the UK in the 1950s was very different from today. Although church attendance had dropped, probably caused by disillusionment because of the war, there was still a general acceptance of the basic truths of Christianity. This, coupled with the fact that religious teaching at Brentwood was, in the words of the school prospectus, in accordance with that of the Church of England, meant that with the exception of Divinity (RE) lessons, apart from one experience I will mention later, there was rarely anything much that would challenge my Christian faith.  Surprisingly the source of that challenge was the Chaplain, the Chapel, and what was taught in Divinity lessons.

 

The Chaplain, the Reverend R. R. Lewis, M.A. was a graduate of Jesus College, Oxford, and an ordained Church of England priest. As such, he was responsible for most of what went on in chapel and taught all the weekly Divinity lessons. From this it was clear, because he openly acknowledged it, that he did not believe in the deity of Christ, the virgin birth, or the resurrection. In fact he denied the possibility of miracles on the grounds that, if God created the laws of the universe, he would not break his own rules! Of course, when I told my father about this, he reminded me of the outstanding miracle experienced by Auntie May which I mentioned at the beginning of this series.

 

On another occasion we were told that God could not foretell the future because, if he could, that would mean that we could not be held responsible for our actions. I know some Christians do struggle with this, but, as I have pointed out elsewhere, if I know that something will happen it does not mean that I am causing it to happen.

 

Having said all that, Mr. Lewis was a nice enough man. I just could not, and still cannot, understand how the Church of England can allow people with such views to hold office in the church. Anglicans often talk about what they consider to be the advantages of the C. of E. being what they call a broad church, but in my view what they claim to be its greatest strength is actually its greatest weakness.

 

Of course, back then I knew nothing of the evangelical wing of the Church of England and tended to assume that Anglicans all held views like those of our school chaplain. It was later at Oxford that I first met godly people who were part of the C. of E. and whose views, apart from the fact that they believed in infant baptism, were much closer to mine.

 

And I praise God for the great things that are happening today in those parts of the church where the Bible is honoured and charismatic gifts are encouraged. But from my, admittedly limited, experience of Anglican worship, it was very different from that in the 1950s.

 

Worship in chapel was very different from what I experienced in our Baptist Church each Sunday. Some differences were relatively unimportant. For example, in chapel we sang Psalms instead of reading them, and we knelt for prayer rather than sitting. But others were more serious. Prayers were never spontaneous, but read from a book, and they were the same prayers week after week!

 

And preachers would be dressed in robes and precede their sermons with,

 

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen,

 

something which at times verged on the blasphemous bearing in mind the content of what sometimes followed in the sermon.

 

But none of this seriously challenged my faith, unlike an experience I had in class, once again with our French teacher, M. Jacquotet. I don’t remember what I had said, but I do remember his response:

 

Monsieur Petts, you are a silly little fool if you think that, if there is a God, he can possibly be interested in you!

 

At the time, I had no answer. There is an apparent logic to arguments like these, but I knew that there must be an answer. So that evening I told my father what my teacher had said, to which he replied,

 

But that is exactly what we Christians dare to believe. God isn’t limited like us. He’s so big that he has the capacity to care about every single person and every single thing in the universe. Your teacher clearly doesn’t understand this.

 

And I remembered something that we had been told to memorise in our English Literature lessons. It was taken from Matthew 6:26.

 

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?

 

So my father’s advice and the shield of faith, which is the word of God, extinguished yet another of those flaming arrows sent by the evil one (Ephesians 6:16). But my father’s Christian influence on my thinking was also very evident in a decision I made with regard to the school Combined Cadet Force.

 

The CCF and pacifism

As I mentioned in Talk One, my father was a conscientious objector during the war. As a Christian he took seriously all the teaching of Jesus, and that included the command to Love your enemies (Matthew 5:44) and he could not see how he could obey this command by killing them. He had to go before a tribunal and answer searching questions to test if his objections were genuine and, as a result, was exempted from military service and allowed to continue his profession as a schoolteacher.

 

 

 

Now at Brentwood it was compulsory for boys in the fourth form and above to be part of the school’s Combined Cadet Force (CCF), generally referred to in school as ‘the corps’. This meant that every Thursday boys would dress in Army or Air Force uniform throughout the day and during the last period of the afternoon receive military training on the school playing fields.

 

There was, however, a provision for a boy to register as a Conscientious Objector if he could satisfy the Headmaster that his objections were sincere. And so, following my father’s example, at the age of 14, I was interviewed and asked to explain my objections, as a result of which I was allowed to do First Aid training with the Red Cross as part of the non-uniformed branch of the corps.

 

Now I realise that most Christians do not take the same pacifist stance. This is one of those issues where Christians are disagreed, and each person must follow their own conscience in the matter. But for me at the time, arguing for pacificism was in many ways the most vital way I had of expressing my Christian faith. Memories of World War II were still very real and our armed forces were already engaged in conflict in the Korean War from 1950 to 1953. Fear of a third world war was very real, and at the time all boys of eighteen were compelled to do National Service involving two years’ military training in one of the armed forces.

 

So the issue of whether it is right to take up arms against one’s fellow human beings was particularly relevant throughout my school years, and there were frequent discussions about it both at school and at church.

 

Whether I was right or wrong to adopt a pacifist position is for others to decide, but what it did for me and the development of my character was undeniable. I was forced to stand up for what I believed in, despite the teasing and accusations of cowardice that inevitably come to people who refuse to fight. The ability to think independently rather than following the majority view, and the resolve to take seriously the teaching of Jesus and to follow it, were to become the determining factors of my life.

 

So I thank God for my years at Brentwood. They not only provided the foundation for future academic achievements but gave me opportunity to learn how to think for myself and to stand up for what I believe to be right. And, best of all, they were years when I determined to follow Jesus. My faith was both challenged and encouraged, but Brentwood was, of course, by no means the only factor, because throughout my years there I was also a regular attender at Elm Park Baptist Church, which is the subject of the next talk.

 

 

 

Talk 4 Brentwood School (1950-56) Part One

As I mentioned in the last talk, life for children and young people from Christian families tends to be pretty much dominated by what goes on at school and at church. It was certainly true for me during my years at primary school and continued to be so when I moved on to Brentwood School. Even my recreational activities, in term time at least, took place either at school or in connection with church. So in this talk and the next I’ll be concentrating on my experience at Brentwood School, and I think it will be helpful if I start by talking about:

 

The educational system in England

Just like today, children left primary school in the July of the school year in which they became eleven. But the school they moved up to depended on their academic ability, which was assessed by their performance in an examination known as ‘the scholarship’ or ‘the eleven plus’, a system which still exists in some areas today.

Only those who were successful in these exams were accepted into what were usually referred to as ‘High Schools’ or ‘Grammar Schools’. (There were no ‘Comprehensive’ schools as we know them today). Children who did not pass the eleven plus would normally go to a ‘Secondary Modern’ school where there would be little or no opportunity later to progress to academic qualifications like GCEs and A levels.

Brentwood, however, came into a different category. It was founded in 1558 as what paradoxically came to be called a public school. Many of the older schools in England come into this category. Well known examples are Eton and Harrow. They were originally called public schools because pupils could attend them regardless of their location, denomination, or family background. However, the term is misleading because, being independent of the state system, they’re not actually open to all the public because they charge fees which very few can afford. So how did I come to go to Brentwood?

Gaining admission to Brentwood

It all started with a recommendation from my headmaster at primary school. I remember feeling a bit nervous as I took the eleven plus exams at primary school. I was under pressure because I was aware that so much depended on it, and because everyone was expecting me to pass because each year I had come top of the class. What I didn’t know was that the headmaster, Mr. Occomore, had had his eye on me for some time, and was about to make a recommendation that I think surprised even my parents.

Once I had passed the eleven plus, he contacted my father and suggested that, instead of applying to any of the local high schools or grammar schools, I might try to see if I could get into Brentwood School which, he felt, would offer me an even better standard of education.

To gain admission I would have to go to Brentwood and sit another exam with a view to winning a Foundation Scholarship. Unfortunately there were only six such scholarships available each year. But, after talking it through with me, my parents encouraged me to try. They were no doubt praying that if Brentwood was the best place for me, God would open the door.

And he did. In the week following the exam, Mr Allison, the headmaster at Brentwood, phoned my father and told him that they were prepared to offer me a place, even though I had not come in the first six. I had come seventh! And because Brentwood had accepted me, the Essex Education Committee would cover the cost of the fees. This was because Brentwood was on the Direct Grant List of the Ministry of Education.

Without that, my father would never have been able to afford to pay for me to go to Brentwood where I soon found myself mixing with boys some of whose parents were far wealthier than mine. I am so grateful to God that I grew up at a time when education was available to all, regardless of their family’s income.

First impressions

Life at Brentwood was very different from life at primary school. For one thing, it took much longer to get there. My primary school was only a 10-minute walk away from my home, whereas to get to Brentwood I had to walk to Hornchurch station, catch the number 66 bus into the centre of Hornchurch and then wait for the school bus to arrive. There were only two or three boys who got on at Hornchurch, but the bus picked up about 40 more as it passed through Upminster on the way to Brentwood. The journey took another half an hour to get us to school.

Unlike primary school, all the boys were in uniform. We wore a maroon-coloured cap and a grey suit accompanied by grey socks, black shoes, and a black tie. The rules on uniform were very strict and rather detailed. For example, in the first year it was compulsory to wear short trousers – something which was not uncommon in those days – whereas in the second year it was permissible to wear long trousers and a white shirt. I suppose, like most kids of today, we really couldn’t see the point of these apparently trivial regulations.

On arriving at school, we all went straight into Chapel or assembly in the Memorial Hall, depending on which day of the week it was, but more of that next time. Once in class, I was initially surprised by two things. First, the classes were considerably smaller than they had been at primary school where the average class at that time numbered between 40 and 50 pupils. At Brentwood there were only 30. Another surprise was that all the teachers wore gowns. This was a tradition that reflected the fact that they were all university graduates, the majority with MA degrees from Oxford or Cambridge.

At 10.45 each morning there was a 15-minute break when we were able to go to the tuck shop, where we could buy a sticky bun for a penny and drink the third of a pint of milk provided free to all children by the government. This break was a welcome relief from the strict discipline in the classroom where the teacher could administer corporal punishment for something as trivial as not being in your seat before the teacher arrived. But that brings us on to the subject of discipline.

Discipline

I have already mentioned the strict rules about uniform, but there were other minor regulations such as not putting your hands in your pockets, not combing your hair or eating in public.

I well remember the occasion during my first week at Brentwood when I was eating an apple on the pavement outside school while I was waiting for the bus. Suddenly, who should appear but the headmaster himself who approached me and said,

Are you a new boy? And then he added,

Perhaps you don’t know that at Brentwood we don’t eat in the street. Are you very hungry?

To which I replied, Yes, Sir.

Well perhaps you could put it away now and save it until you get home.

Needless to say, I was very relieved that he had dealt with me so kindly, but I must confess that once I had got upstairs on the bus where the headmaster could not see me, I took the apple out of the bag and ate it.

Of course, it was unusual for the head to be dealing with such a trivial thing. Such matters were usually dealt with by praepostors, a word which comes from the Latin meaning placed ahead and which is roughly equivalent to what in most schools was called a prefect. These were boys chosen from the sixth form and were easily distinguished by the fact that they wore a special tie instead of the regulation black one. They had authority to remind boys of the school rules and to impose discipline, like setting essays for offenders to write, or giving them 100 lines, which meant writing out the same sentence 100 times.

In class, of course, discipline was maintained by the teachers. Most of them achieved this by keeping their lessons interesting, and, as someone pointed out to me when I started teaching, interest is the best form of discipline. Occasionally, however, this was backed up by putting offenders in detention, which meant doing classwork for two hours all Wednesday afternoon instead of playing cricket or football.

This happened to me once, not for breaking any rules, but for not adequately memorising what the teacher had told us to learn for our homework, or ‘prep’ as it was called at Brentwood. Another time I avoided detention by agreeing to be caned instead. It happened like this.

It was during the French lesson, and I was sitting at the back of the class. I had in my head the tune of a chorus we had been singing at church and, rather stupidly, I started to whistle it very quietly. Of course, the teacher heard it and asked who was whistling. Monsieur Jacquotet was an elderly Frenchman who was bald on top but had white woolly hair at the back and sides. But what made his appearance rather unusual was the fact that he wore pince-nez glasses, something we boys found highly amusing.

When he asked who was whistling I immediately put up my hand to confess, which, I think, anyone else in our school would have done. To which Jacko (as we somewhat disrespectfully called him) imposed my sentence:

Eh bien, Monsieur Petts, you will go in detention.

 

However, there was one problem. I was opening bat for the house cricket team and there was a match on the next day. So the team captain went to our housemaster, Lt. Col, D.J Jones, and asked him if he could get me off detention. As a result of which, M. Jacquotet agreed, provided that Col. Jones gave me the cane instead. So that afternoon, with a rather sore backside, feeling something of a hero, I went out to bat for the house team. Sadly, I was out first ball, and my heroic suffering proved in vain!

Sport

One of the things that first excited me about Brentwood was the wonderful facilities on campus – though ‘campus’ was not a term that was used in England in those days. The school boasted the largest school playing fields in England, some 60 acres, enough space for the entire school to be out playing football or cricket at the same time. There were also tennis courts, squash courts, a fives court, two well equipped gyms and an open-air swimming pool where, in the Summer Term, we were all taught to swim.

Initially there had been one thing that had disappointed me about Brentwood. We had to go to school on Saturdays! This may have been because about 180 of the boys were boarders and the headmaster once remarked that he viewed ‘dayboys’ as ‘boarders who go home to sleep’! Something which is clearly a contradiction in terms, and I confess, we dayboys refused to take it seriously when we were told that we should wear school uniform on Sundays!

However, I soon got over my disappointment about going to school on Saturdays, as the whole afternoon on Wednesdays and Saturdays was dedicated to sporting activities, which I loved, and anyway our school holidays were longer than those in other schools – eight weeks in the summer, for example, instead of the usual six.

I enjoyed playing football and cricket and, later, rugby. I remember playing left wing for my house team and, on one occasion, scoring 7 goals while my friend John Bramble on the right wing scored another 7. This absurd result was probably because the opposing team was from one of the boarding houses which had fewer boys to choose from than the dayboy houses. This may also account for the fact that in one cricket match I took 4 wickets for the loss of only 1 run! I also played full back in our house rugby team which won the cup for three years in succession, probably because Col. Jones our housemaster was a former Welsh international and an excellent coach.

And finally, in the sixth form, I played centre half at football in the school second eleven and was hoping to be promoted to the first eleven until I badly sprained my ankle running down the stairs of the school library two at a time and was out of action until I left school at the end of that term.

Next time I’ll tell you something about the academic programme at Brentwood before sharing how my Christian faith was both tested and encouraged during my time there.

My Story  Talk 3  Home, Family, Christmas & Holidays (1947-1953)

Welcome to Talk 3 in our series where I’m reflecting on the goodness of God throughout my life. From what I’ve said so far it’s clear that after the war my life in the 1940s was largely comprised of school and church. I suppose that was true of most Christian children in those days and continues to be so today. And what was true of my years at primary school and Sunday school was also true of the years that followed. Most of my activity was to be centred on school and church.

But before I move on to those things in the next talk, I need to say more about my family, because without a doubt our family is by far the strongest influence in the formation of our character, our behaviour, and our outlook on life. And life is not just about our education or work or church. It’s about relationships, people, recreation, having fun, and healthy enjoyment of the things God has so graciously lavished upon us. So this talk is about my home, my family, Christmas and holidays.

 

Home

For the first 23 years of my life I lived with my parents in the home in Hornchurch where I was born. It was a fairly standard three bedroomed semidetached house, but it benefited from a rather large garden which backed onto the railway. We weren’t disturbed by the noise of the trains because the garden was some 200 feet – about 60 metres – long, but by walking to the end of the garden and looking down the railway embankment we could watch electric trains on the District Line and the steam locomotives on the London, Midland and Scottish Railway.

My parents were both keen gardeners and had chosen the house because of the size of the garden. They planted several apple trees, two pear trees, two plum trees, a greengage tree, as well as strawberries, raspberries, gooseberries, blackcurrants and redcurrants. My grandfather had also planted for me an ash tree at the very end of the garden and, by looking at Google Earth, it looks as though it’s still there today. Sadly, the large fishpond which I helped my father build when I was about ten seems to have gone.

 

Family and Friends

One of the advantages of having a large garden was that there was a big enough lawn for my father to teach me to play cricket and football. So, although I was an only child, I was never a lonely child. There were always plenty of friends who liked to come and play.

I also enjoyed playing board games with my grandad, my mother’s father, who lived with us for about five years, and later with my grandmother, my father’s mother, who came later to live with us for six years and who died at the age of 86 when I was 16. Having elderly parents living with us for eleven years was not easy for my mother, but she seldom if ever complained, and her example taught me the real meaning of love, a commitment to serving others despite the cost to ourselves. I also got some idea of what it’s like to be in your eighties!

 

Family at Christmas

I saw relatively little of other family members as my uncles, aunts and ten cousins all lived too far away for frequent visits. But we did see most of them at Christmas and sometimes during the other school holidays. Because, with one exception, all my cousins were older than I was, Christmas was usually spent with my Auntie Addie – Adelaide actually, but I never heard anyone actually call her that! She was a year or two younger than my mother and had two sons, Brian who was a year older than me, and Geoffrey who was born shortly after the war when Uncle Bert returned from years away fighting in Burma (now known as Myanmar).

 

We usually alternated where we would spend Christmas, either at our house in Hornchurch or at their prefab in Woodford Green near Walthamstow. Prefabs were prefabricated bungalows introduced after the war to provide housing that could be erected more quickly than by using the usual methods of construction. Originally they were intended to last for, I think, only ten years, but in practice most of them lasted for decades. One of the exciting things about them was that they were all provided with a fridge with a small freezer compartment, so we could have ice-cream whenever we liked. Fridges were a luxury in those days and it was many years later that we ourselves had one. Eileen and I had our first fridge in 1968, six years after we were married.

Brian and I had to share a bed every Christmas and I have vivid memories of waking up in the early hours of the morning to see what Santa had left in our ‘stockings’ – which were actually pillowcases, as stockings weren’t large enough to accommodate the vast number of presents we each received.

I don’t remember how old I was when I realised that Santa wasn’t real, but it must have been well before I left primary school. I do know that some Christians, quite understandably, believe it’s wrong to tell their children something which isn’t true, fearing especially that, when they finally understand that the whole Santa thing is a myth, they will conclude the Christmas story found in the Bible is a legend too.

That’s a view that I understand and fully respect, but I can only say that it was never a problem for me, or, as far as I know, for my children and grandchildren for that matter. If we teach our children that what is in the Bible is true, they will soon discover that Father Christmas is nowhere to be found in the Bible, but is just a nice story that, although it isn’t true, gave them a lot of fun when they were too young to understand otherwise. But each of us must follow our own conscience in this matter, as we always must when confronted with issues over which Christians disagree.

Christmas dinner, as I remember it, was very similar to what most people have today, with one notable exception. I can’t remember when we first had turkey, but for several years our celebratory meal was roast chicken. Unlike today, chicken was then very expensive, and Christmas was the only time we had it. At other times our regular Sunday roast was lamb, which, also unlike today, was the cheapest meat you could get.

Our typical weekly menu was roast lamb on Sundays, cold lamb on Mondays, minced lamb in the form of shepherd’s pie on Tuesdays, and lamb stew with dumplings on Wednesdays. So chicken at Christmas was a real treat!

Apart from eating, we spent most of Christmas Day and Boxing Day playing with the games we had received as presents. These were always very competitive and included subuteo football, a form of cricket you could also play on the table, table tennis, darts, and a bagatelle pin board. We also enjoyed heading a balloon to one another and counting how many times we could keep it up. When we later tried it outside with a football we found it was much harder!

Another good thing about staying at Auntie Addie’s house was that we were able to visit other family members, as three of my aunts lived quite near to her. There was always quite a crowd in the evenings when we all joined together for a party, when we played traditional party games like musical chairs and pass the parcel.

Years later I was to discover that some people’s idea of a party was a time when you did little more than sit around and drink too much. This shocked me because our parties had never been like that. My parents were both teetotallers and, although most of the rest of the family were not, they respected their wishes and rarely drank in the presence of children and teenagers.

Of course, the consumption of alcohol is another of those matters where Christians disagree, but hopefully all would at least agree that abstinence is the best policy in the presence of those who might become addicted. I personally think of myself as an abstainer, but not a total abstainer.  And I’m grateful that, because of the example set by my family, I have always been cautious in these matters and am happy to say that I have never been drunk, something which even some Christians find hard to believe.

 

Family and Holidays

But Christmas was not the only time when I met other family members. There were the summer holidays too. Hotels were too expensive, and we usually spent a couple of weeks away from home staying with family. During my primary school years we went several times to Cowes on the Isle of Wight where my father’s sister, Auntie Lil, had a flat overlooking the sea.

Her husband, Uncle Ernie, was a lighthouse keeper on the Needles, an impressive rock formation just offshore at the western end of the island. His job required him to live on the lighthouse for several weeks at a time, so sometimes we never saw him at all during the weeks we were on holiday with Auntie Lil. But when he was able to be with us, I remember that he was very generous.

We usually had to travel everywhere by bus, but on one occasion he paid for a taxi to take us on a tour of the whole island. Another time, when I was eight, he paid for my father and me to go on a ‘joy-ride’, a five minute trip on an aeroplane, an Auster light aircraft with just enough room for Dad and me to sit behind the pilot. I realise that this might not sound very exciting to young people today. Plane travel is so common, and many families take flights abroad for their holidays. But in those days it really was something exceptional. No one in my class at school had ever been in a plane, and my teacher got me to tell them all what it was like. We had only gone up to 1000 feet, but the experience of flying was exhilarating as we looked down on houses that now looked no bigger than a matchbox and were able to see so far into the distance, across to the southern coast of England and beyond.

I’m so grateful to Uncle Ernie for making that experience possible for me. (It cost him seven shillings and sixpence which was a lot of money in those days, but which in today’s decimal currency equates to 37.5p). Due to his kindness and Auntie Lil’s hospitality we always enjoyed our holidays on the Isle of Wight.

Another favourite holiday destination, particularly during my early teens, was Canterbury where my mother’s sister, another Auntie Lil, lived with her husband Will and her daughter Doreen who was an English teacher in a Grammar School. I remember listening to her discussions with my dad about the nature of language, something I was particularly interested in because by then I was already studying French, Latin, and Greek at school. But more of that later.

While in Canterbury we enjoyed visiting its wonderful cathedral and other places of historical interest like the Westgate Tower and the ducking stool where in less enlightened centuries women who scolded their husbands were ducked in the river to teach them a lesson!  We also took advantage of the beautiful countryside around Canterbury and particularly enjoyed walking across the golf course which immediately overlooked my aunt’s back garden.

Other days were spent taking bus trips to the coastal resorts that lay within easy reach of Canterbury – places like Herne Bay, Margate, and Ramsgate, all lovely places, but nothing of course to compare with the beauty of Devon where I now live! My first holiday in Devon was when I was fifteen – but that’s something I’ll come back to next time when I talk about my teenage years at church and my life at Brentwood School where I was privileged by God’s grace to receive a first-class education.

 

But finally, I’m conscious that in this talk I’ve made little mention of God, but I’m reminded that in the book of Esther God isn’t mentioned either, yet it’s very clear as we read it that he was at work in every detail of the story. So it is with us. His purpose for each of us is different, but he is at work in the ordinary everyday things in our lives, not just in any miracles he may perform for us.

So I thank God for the home I grew up in, the family I was part of, and the fun we had together at Christmas and on holiday. These things, I believe, played an important part in my childhood and teenage years enabling me to grow into adulthood, confident to face the future, knowing that God loved me and had a purpose for my life.

Talk 2   School, Sunday School, & Salvation

Welcome to Talk 2 in our new series where I’m reflecting on my how the Lord has blessed my life. Today I’ll be talking about my time at Primary School, at Sunday School, and how I learnt at the age of eight how to be saved.

 

Suttons Lane County Primary School

My first school was situated on Suttons Lane, quite close to Hornchurch aerodrome. On the edge of town, to the south it had open views of the fairly flat countryside on the northern side of the River Thames. It was less than a ten-minute walk from my house.

 

From an early age I was able to walk to school unattended as there were no roads to cross thanks to ‘the cinder track’, a footpath that ran along the edge of what we called ‘the farmer’s field’ where we would see horses pulling a plough to prepare the soil for the potatoes that were grown there.

 

Every day at school began with the teacher marking the register followed by assembly in the school hall where we sang a hymn, said the Lord’s Prayer together, and listened to any announcements the headmaster had to give us. I don’t know how many of our teachers were practising Christians, but the emphasis in assembly was distinctly Christian, as was the teaching in the weekly Scripture – later to be called Religious Education – lessons we had in class.

 

In those days it was a legal requirement for all schools to include Scripture on the curriculum and for each day to begin with an act of Christian worship. So the Christian teaching I received at home and at Sunday School was reinforced by what went on at school. The truth of the Christian message was still widely assumed, even if church attendance had greatly diminished as a result of the war. How different things are today!

 

I can see with hindsight that, although I didn’t realise it at the time, one of the reasons I enjoyed school was that there was no conflict between what I was taught at home and what I was taught at school.

 

And, of course, I enjoyed it too because, unlike some schools today that have misguidedly sold off their playing fields for commercial purposes, our school shared a playing field with the adjacent secondary school, where we played cricket and football, both of which were probably my favourite activities.

 

I played for the school team at both cricket and football, the love of which I inherited from my father who on Saturdays was an active player in both. I loved going to watch him play for the Elm Park Football Club and the Cranham Cricket Club.

 

He once told me he thought that the boys in the secondary school where he taught paid more attention to his Scripture lessons because he also taught them to play football. He was a qualified F.A. Coach, and, incidentally, also told me that one of the boys he had coached played in the England team that won the World Cup in 1966. I still have a box full of medals he won for cricket, football, snooker, and tennis. He was seven times the champion of the Elm Park Lawn Tennis Club.

 

But I think I also enjoyed school because I was good at my lessons. As I’ve already mentioned, I started school at the age of 4 in September 1943. Educationally I had the distinct advantage that my father was a teacher and had taught me to read and write before I went to school, and so by the time I was 7 my parents were told that I had a reading age of 12.

 

In saying this I hope I don’t give the impression that I’m boasting. I learnt long ago that true humility is not a matter of pretending that you don’t really have any talents or gifts, but acknowledging that what you do have comes from God, and that all the credit is his and not ours. If I have a good brain, it is God who gave me that brain, and I have no right to boast about my academic achievements. But that does not mean that I may not mention them! As God said to Jeremiah:

 

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations (Jeremiah 1:5).

 

Before we were born, God had a purpose for each one of us, and he created us with the abilities we would need to fulfil that purpose.  It’s our decision as to whether we fulfil that purpose or not. So I thank God for the good brain he gave me and for parents who encouraged me to use it.

 

And if I tell you that every year I attended that school I came top of the class, you’ll understand that my reason for doing so is to show how, without my realising it, he was guiding me onto a pathway where academic achievement would be an essential part of the work that he had planned for me to do.

 

Sunday School and Church

But school was not the only place I was learning. Probably the most influential source in my education was what my parents taught me at home. But more of that in a moment. I was also learning at Sunday School and at other church related activities like Lifeboys (the name then given to the junior section of the Boys’ Brigade).

 

My first reaction to Sunday School was that I didn’t like it! I was only 4 and I’m grateful to my parents that when I told them so they did not force me to go. A little later they suggested very gently that I might like to try it again, and this time I enjoyed it. Because of the wisdom they showed in this matter, I always knew that attendance at Sunday School or Church was to be my decision. No one could ever say that I only went because my parents made me go.

 

And so I went of my own free will, and year after year was given a book as a prize for good attendance. The annual Sunday School Prize Giving Sunday was a big event, and many of the parents who were not church-goers came to see their children receive their prizes.

 

Sunday School, which in most churches took place in the afternoon, was a big thing in the 1940s and 1950s. Even parents who did not come to church wanted their children to be taught about the Bible – or they were just glad to get a break from the kids on a Sunday afternoon! We were told that our church had the largest Sunday School in Essex with up to 400 children attending each Sunday. My mother was a Sunday School teacher and my father taught the teenage Bible Class, but more of that in the next talk.

 

Unlike most of the children who attended Sunday School, I also attended church. I think my first experience of church was travelling on a Sunday evening up to London to attend the church where my parents had attended before the war. We travelled on the London Underground railway on the District Line between Elm Park and Bromley stations, and I took an instant dislike to London because at that time much of that area was damaged, dirty, and quite smelly.

 

The Tab which formerly, I was told, had up to a thousand in its congregation, had been bombed in the war and, as far as I know was never rebuilt. Many of the people’s houses had been destroyed and, rather like my parents, they had moved away from the East End of London. Consequently the meetings I went to as a young child with my parents were attended by at most a few dozen people and took place in the upstairs room of a pub, which I seem to remember was called The Five Bells.

 

The meetings weren’t really suitable for children, and I didn’t really enjoy the fuss that all the adults made of me. One thing I did like was the minister, Mr Tildsley, referring to me as King David and perhaps that sparked in my young heart a desire to copy my namesake and achieve great victories for God.

 

Fortunately, as far as I was concerned, my parents soon decided that it was time to settle into a church that was nearer to where they were now living, so we started attending Elm Park Baptist which was a relatively new church as most of the houses in the area, like ours, had only been constructed in the mid to late 1930s.

 

It was a warm friendly church with lots of activities for children and young people and, although I couldn’t understand all that the minister said in his sermons on Sunday evenings, it’s clear, looking back on it, that it was all influencing my mind in the right direction, leading me ultimately in my teens to give my life to Jesus. But that’s a subject for our next talk. However, before we get there, it’s important that I tell you how, at the age of 8, I came to understand how to be sure I would go the Heaven when I die.

 

The way of salvation

I remember how, at the age of 8, I was sitting on my father’s knee when I asked him,

 

Daddy, how good do you have to be to go to Heaven? 

 

 

I think the question was on my mind because of something that was called David’s Good Boy Chart. This was a chart my father had made rather like a calendar with a space for each day for him to stick on it a coloured sun or moon or star, depending on how my behaviour had been that day.

 

I think he had made it because my mother had been having some problems with me during the day while he was at work. When he got home, my mother would tell him how I had behaved that day and an appropriate sticker would be applied to the chart. If I’d been good, it would be a sun, not so good, a moon, and so on.

 

I think I must have been wondering how many suns I would need if I wanted to go to Heaven! My father explained that it isn’t a question of how good we are, because none of us is good enough to go to heaven. That’s why Jesus came to die on the cross to take the punishment for our sins so that all who believe in him will have everlasting life.

 

Then he asked,

Do you believe that, David?

 

I replied,

Yes, of course I do.

And why do you believe it? asked my father.

Because you have told me, I said.

That’s a good reason, he said, but one day you will come to believe it for yourself.

 

That’s the first time I can remember that I was consciously aware of the truth of the gospel. I suppose that, like many who have been brought up in a Christian home, I can’t put a date on when I first believed. It feels as though I have always believed. I cannot remember a time when I did not believe.

 

I used to be concerned about this, especially when so many Christians can remember a specific date. But then I heard an illustration that was very helpful. I never forgot, and will never forget, the date when Eileen and I married. But even if one year I had forgotten it, I would never have forgotten that I was married and who I was married to!

 

The point of the illustration is this. The date that my married relationship with Eileen started was relatively unimportant compared with our relationship throughout our married lives. The same applies to our relationship with Jesus. What matters is not when our relationship started, but whether I am in relationship with him now. Am I trusting him now for the forgiveness of my sins and my home in heaven? And if I am, then the exact date it all started is relatively unimportant.

 

So I cannot remember an exact date when I first believed but I can remember the day when I decided to give my life to Christ. And again, it was through my father that I came to that decision. But we’ll come to that in a later talk.

 

My Story   Talk  1 Family Background and World War 2

 

Introduction

Welcome back to Great Bible Truths with me, Dr David Petts.  As this podcast will go out live in early January let me take this opportunity to wish you God’s richest blessings for the coming year. Let me also apologise that my website was down for several weeks, but the good news is that it’s now up and running again.

 

Now, as I mentioned in my last talk at the end of our series on Mark’s Gospel, this year, God willing, I’m planning both to write and record my memoirs in order to place on record God’s goodness throughout my life, from the moment of conception in my mother’s womb, right through to this present time. I also hope that the things I record may be of some historical and sociological interest, particular to younger people.

 

What’s more, I’m convinced that, if he can bless me, he can bless you too, and my purpose in doing this is to encourage your faith, if you are already a Christian, and, if you’re not, to persuade you that, if you put your trust in Christ as your personal Saviour, you will discover how trustworthy and faithful he is.

 

Some of God’s miraculous interventions in my life have already been recorded in some of my books, notably in Signs from Heaven – why I Believe and The Voice of God – how he speaks to us today. But there’s still so much more to tell, and friends and family have been encouraging me that now is the time to get on and do it. And, even more importantly, I feel that God himself is prompting me to do so.

 

Now you may be wondering why I am including talks about my personal experience under the general heading of Great Bible Truths. That’s an understandable question, but the answer is simply that as Christians our lives are meant to illustrate and demonstrate how the truth of God’s Word works out in practice. In 2 Corinthians 3:2 Paul talks about the Corinthians themselves as a letter… known and read by everyone. And, although in the context Paul is talking about his readers as the living proof of his apostolic ministry, there seems to be here an underlying principle that our lives are, or at least should be, living testimonies to the truth we believe.

 

And finally, by way of introduction, I need to say that I am very well aware that, again in the words of the apostle Paul, By the grace of God, I am what I am (1 Corinthians 15:10). Whatever we are, whatever we have done, whatever gifts and talents we may have, it’s all by the grace of God. And all the glory must always go to him. But now to my story.

 

My parents

My story, of course, begins with my parents. Stanley and Ivy Petts (née Claus) were both born in Poplar, East London, in September 1907. Their home backgrounds were very different. Mum’s childhood was very difficult, her father often coming home drunk. Her mother died before I was born. She left six children, two boys, Harry and Bill, and four girls, Minnie, Lily, Ivy, and Addie. As far as I know, only Minnie and my mum, Ivy, ever became Christians.

 

On the other hand, my dad’s family were all Christians attending the Poplar and Bromley Baptist Tabernacle, affectionately known as The Tab, and it was there that my dad met my mum. Dad had three sisters, Lily, Violet, and May. May was born deaf and dumb – that’s how it’s recorded on the national register – but, as I’ve already recorded in my book Signs from Heaven, was miraculously healed in answer to prayer .

 

When she was in her twenties, my grandmother took her to a divine healing  meeting conducted by the evangelist, George Jeffreys , who placed his hands on her and prayed  for her.

 

That evening, as they were travelling home to Poplar in the East End of London, they went down to catch the underground train. Suddenly, with a shocked expression on her face, May  put both hands over her ears. She could hear the roar of the train as it came through the tunnel approaching the platform!

 

Until that moment, from the day she was born she had never been able to hear, but now she could hear, and within a few weeks was beginning to speak.

 

I suppose that’s why I’ve never doubted God’s miracle  working power and firmly believe that we should expect to see miracles today.

 

Mum and Dad were married on August 4th 1934 and lived with his parents until they were able to afford a home of their own. During the time they were there, my mother sadly had a miscarriage and, as my father told me years later, the doctor had expressed the opinion that she might be unable to have children. But they prayed that, in my mother’s words, the Lord would give her a son, and that he would go into all the world and preach the gospel. But I knew nothing of all this until I was sixteen when I told my parents that I believed that God was calling me to serve him as a minister.

 

In 1937 Mum and Dad moved into their own home, a new-build semi-detached house in Hornchurch, which, with the help of a mortgage, they were able to purchase for the princely sum of – wait for it – £630 (six hundred and thirty pounds)! Prices for similar properties in the same area today are closer to £630,000!

 

I was born in the front bedroom of that house on January 12th 1939, and my late wife Eileen was born 6 days earlier in Stockport, Cheshire. That was just eight months before Britain declared war on Germany on 3rd September 1939. Of course, I was too young to remember very much of the early years of the war, but I was already 6 years old when the war ended and have just a few memories of what life was like at the time.

 

Earliest Memories

During the first part of the war, between 1939 and 1941, because Hornchurch was an area that was likely to be bombed, my mother and I were evacuated to a village called Marcham (near to Abingdon). We stayed in a vicarage with the vicar and his wife (Rev and Mrs Palmer). I have no clear memories of that time, although I do remember the vicarage, from when we went back to visit them after the war.

 

My father wasn’t with us for much of the time because, although he was not in the armed forces as he was a conscientious objector, he was sent as a schoolteacher to what was called an Approved School (which was where they used to send juvenile delinquents). It was a residential establishment near Woking in Surrey and my dad had to live there much of the time, so we didn’t see much of him as it was some distance from where we were in Marcham, and in those days very few people had cars.

 

In 1941 my father was transferred to a different Approved School. This was nearer to Hornchurch and so my mother and I left Marcham and returned home to be nearer to my father. However, our house was less than half a mile from Hornchurch aerodrome, which played a very important part in the Battle of Britain. So there was still a very real danger of being bombed by enemy aircraft.

 

My main memories of those early years were having to take refuge in an air-raid shelter whenever the siren sounded. (The siren gave a very loud signal when enemy aircraft were approaching and a different signal called the ‘all-clear’ when the danger was over). There were two kinds of shelter, the Morrison shelter and the Anderson shelter.

 

We had a Morrison shelter which was like a very strong table, made of steel, which you had indoors. I can remember having to go underneath it at night when the siren sounded – we slept on the floor underneath it. I can also remember banging my head on it as I was getting out from underneath it! All the houses had to have ‘blackouts’ to cover the windows at night so that enemy aircraft would not see the light in the house.

 

I remember my mum peeping out from behind the blackout during one of the raids and telling me that she could see a Spitfire chasing off a German plane. I can’t remember ever feeling afraid. Perhaps it was because I was too young to understand the danger, but also because of my mum’s confidence that God would keep us safe.

 

Other people had Anderson shelters. These were in the garden, dug into the ground, and made of corrugated iron – rather like some of the things pig farmers use to shelter their pigs today. The infant school I went to from the age of four in September 1943 had a large version of one of these which was big enough for all the children to get into if there was a raid during school-time. I can only remember going into it once but can’t remember much more about it.

 

Quite recently, however, I discovered that an enemy aircraft had crashed into the secondary school which was only about 100 yards from my infant school, and I have wondered if this had coincided with the time we were all in the air raid shelter. Of course, I have no way of knowing this, but I am so grateful that our lives were spared throughout that awful time when so many others lost theirs.

 

 

When the war ended, all over the country people held parties in the street to celebrate. (There were not many cars around in those days!) I remember we had a big bonfire in the middle of the road – something which I imagine would not be allowed today – and the concrete was broken up where the bonfire had been.

 

My final memory of the war and the years that followed it is what was called ‘rationing’. Because there was a great shortage of food and clothing during that time people were given ration books with coupons in. To buy something (including sweets!) you needed not only money, but coupons. I remember my mum being pleased with me because I had bigger feet than most of the children. It meant she was allowed extra clothing coupons! The rationing went on for some time after the war and I well remember the first time we were allowed to buy as many sweets as we liked because there was no more rationing!

 

But now it’s time to finish for today, so let’s summarise by asking what Bible truths have been illustrated by the experiences I have been talking about. The first of these truths is that God answers believing prayer. Despite what she had been told, my mother prayed for a son, and God answered her prayer. Secondly, nothing is impossible with God. There was no medical cure for my aunt’s condition, but God worked a miracle in response to the evangelist’s prayer. This shows us, thirdly, that God still grants supernatural gifts like healing as signs confirming the truth of the gospel. We also see that God has a purpose for our lives and that he is able to protect us from danger in order to fulfil it.      

 

Next time I’ll be talking about the years after the war, my time at primary school, and my first experience of Sunday school and going to church.

 

Talk 48 Mark 16:1-20 The Resurrection and Great Commission

Welcome to Talk 48 in our series on Mark’s Gospel. This will be the final talk in the series, and we’ll be looking at Chapter 16 which is Mark’s account of Jesus’ resurrection and his final instructions to his disciples which are often referred to as The Great Commission. We’ll work through the chapter a verse or two at a time, and will begin by reading verses 1-4.

 

When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body. 2 Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb 3 and they asked each other, “Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?” 4 But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away.

 

Verses 1-2

In our last talk we commented on the devotion of these and many other women who had faithfully followed Jesus right from the beginning of his ministry in Galilee. Now we see them buying spices to anoint Jesus’ body. What they did not know was that Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus had already done so when they buried him in accordance with Jewish burial customs (John 19:40), and that by the time they were to reach the tomb Jesus would have already risen. But of course, like the rest of the disciples, they were not expecting him to rise despite all that Jesus had told them. If they had been, they would have known that to anoint his body would be completely unnecessary!

 

Verse 3

The stone which Joseph put in place would have been in a sloping groove down which he had rolled the stone to cover the entrance to the tomb. The two Marys had seen him do this (15:47) and now, on the way to the tomb, realised that unaided they would be unable to move it back. Why hadn’t they thought of this before? When we are grieving we don’t always think as clearly as usual and now the women are anticipating a problem which, as they were soon to discover, would not be a problem at all! The Lord had already dealt with it!

 

Verse 4

Have you ever set out to do something for the Lord which you felt sure he wanted you to do, and then discovered that you’d got it wrong? Or perhaps, as you’ve set out to do it, doubts have come into your mind, unforeseen potential problems have occurred to you, and you’ve wondered how you could possibly achieve your goal. That’s certainly been my experience, and that exactly what was happening with these women. Their motivation was pure. What they were doing they were doing out of love for the Lord. But their mistake – if it was a mistake – was that, like the rest of the disciples, they didn’t remember or didn’t believe what Jesus had said. Was the Lord displeased with their actions? Surely not. As we see in the next few verses, they were given the great privilege of announcing the news of the resurrection to the other disciples. Even when we get things wrong, the Lord still has work for us to do.

 

Now let’s read verses 5-8:

5 As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed. 6 “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. 7 But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.'” 8 Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.

 

I want you to notice the extreme emotions experienced by the women in these verses. This is completely understandable. They were grieving – over the terrible suffering they had so recently seen inflicted on someone they so dearly loved – over the fact, or what they thought was a fact, that all their hopes for the future had been dashed – over the loss of a loved one. As we have seen, they are not thinking clearly. They are wondering who can have moved the stone. They enter the tomb and are confronted by an angel! No wonder they’re alarmed, trembling and bewildered.

 

But grieving can bring with it other emotions too, as I have recently discovered in my own experience. I’ve found that we can weep tears of sorrow and, paradoxically, tears of joy too. And I’ve experienced both at the same time! And there’s a hint in verse 8 that that is what these women were experiencing too. The word translated bewildered in the Greek is ekstasis. It can also mean astonishment or amazement. But interestingly, in Matthew’s account he uses a different word, chara, which means joy!

 

And where does this joy come from? It comes from the news the angel brings them – Jesus is not here. He has risen! What a consolation that was to become! And it’s our consolation too. Because he lives, we shall live also. And our loved ones who die in the Lord are not here. They are with Christ, which is far better. And the day will come when we will see them again, as these devoted women soon were to see Jesus.

 

Perhaps it’s this strange mixture of emotions that can account for the fact that, despite the good news, the women fled from the tomb and said nothing to anyone because they were afraid. This was presumably just their initial reaction, because verse 9 tells us Mary Magdalene, at least, went and told the good news to the other disciples. And according to the angel’s instructions, that was to include Peter. If, as is widely believed, Mark derived his information from Peter, it’s perhaps significant that Peter gets a special mention here. It was Peter who had denied the Lord and who in John 21 is graciously given the opportunity to reaffirm his love for Jesus. Even when we fail him, the Lord is constantly seeking to draw us back to himself.

 

But that, according to the earliest manuscripts is where Mark’s Gospel abruptly ends. Verses 9-20 are viewed by some scholars as a later addition. But these verses have for a long time formed part of Scripture as we know it and, as we shall see, the basic truth contained in them is confirmed elsewhere in the New Testament.

So now, verses 9-11.

9 When Jesus rose early on the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene, out of whom he had driven seven demons. 10 She went and told those who had been with him and who were mourning and weeping. 11 When they heard that Jesus was alive and that she had seen him, they did not believe it.

The fact that Jesus appeared first to Mary Magdalene is confirmed in all four Gospels, although as usual the other Gospels give more details than we find in Mark. Although initially afraid to say anything (v8), possibly due to emotional trauma, she has now gained the courage to do so. And if we read John’s account the reason is clear. She has seen the Lord. He has spoken to her. He has called her by name. The encounter with Jesus makes all the difference. She goes and tells the other disciples that she has seen him. Bearing in mind the repeated lack of faith exhibited by the disciples throughout Jesus’ ministry, we’re not surprised that at first they did not believe her.

 

This unbelief is stressed again in verses 12-14:

12 Afterward Jesus appeared in a different form to two of them while they were walking in the country. 13 These returned and reported it to the rest; but they did not believe them either. 14 Later Jesus appeared to the Eleven as they were eating; he rebuked them for their lack of faith and their stubborn refusal to believe those who had seen him after he had risen.

Of course, verses 12-13 are a very brief summary of Luke 24:13-35 where Jesus appears to the two disciples on the Road to Emmaus, and where Jesus appearing to the Eleven follows immediately afterwards. We sometimes blame Thomas because he refused to believe until he saw for himself (John 20:24-28), but it seems that the other disciples were no less guilty, and Jesus’ words to Thomas were applicable to them all – Because you have seen me, you have believed. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed. And the importance of believing is stressed in the following verses where faith is the essential prerequisite for salvation and for seeing miracles performed in Jesus’ name.

 

Verses 15-18

15 He said to them, “Go into all the world and preach the good news to all creation. 16 Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned. 17 And these signs will accompany those who believe: In my name they will drive out demons; they will speak in new tongues; 18 they will pick up snakes with their hands; and when they drink deadly poison, it will not hurt them at all; they will place their hands on sick people, and they will get well.”

Now that Jesus has died and risen again, the work he had come to do has been accomplished. The Lamb of God has been slain to take away the sins of the world. He has borne the punishment that our sins deserved, and forgiveness and salvation are available to all who will believe. That’s good news indeed and all the world needs to hear it. The disciples, and all disciples after them, are to go and spread the message to all creation.

 

But why creation? Because, as Paul teaches us in Romans 8:21-22, all creation was affected by Adam’s sin and all creation has been groaning right up to this present time and is waiting to be liberated from its bondage to decay. For that we must wait until Jesus returns, when the entire creation will see the manifestation of the victory he accomplished at Calvary. Forgiveness of sin and eternal life are available right now to all who will believe, but the final outworking of Christ’s victory at Calvary, the abolition of sickness and death, the redemption of our bodies, the new heavens and the new earth, are all future blessings for which we must patiently wait.

 

But even now God grants us foretastes of those blessings through the miracle-working power of the Spirit. Most of the miracles Jesus promises in these verses are seen again and again in the Book of Acts. The Spirit-filled disciples drive out demons, speak languages they have never learnt, and heal the sick in Jesus’ name. Paul was even delivered from snakebite. The only miracle listed here that is not mentioned in Acts is drinking deadly poison. And these miracle signs were not just for the early church. William Burton records in his book Signs Following examples of all these miracles taking place in the early days of the Congo Evangelistic Mission.

 

But that does not mean that the Lord Jesus intended us to claim these signs as promises. What he is saying is that these are the kind of miracles we can expect when we go out to proclaim the good news. Spiritual gifts are distributed as the Holy Spirit determines (1 Corinthians 12:11). Our responsibility is to tell others about Jesus and to trust the Holy Spirit to confirm what we say with whatever kind of sign he chooses.

 

Verses 19-20

19 After the Lord Jesus had spoken to them, he was taken up into heaven and he sat at the right hand of God. 20 Then the disciples went out and preached everywhere, and the Lord worked with them and confirmed his word by the signs that accompanied it.

In Mark’s Gospel verses 15-20 are the last recorded words of Jesus before he returned to Heaven. Luke’s Gospel and the first chapter of Acts (which gives a little more detail about Jesus’ ascension into Heaven) records his last words as telling his disciples to wait until they are baptised in the Spirit and that they would receive power when the Spirit came upon them and be his witnesses to the ends of the earth. There is, of course no contradiction here. The power of the Spirit was, and still is, essential if miracles are to happen in Jesus’ name.

 

The message that Jesus is alive is confirmed by the fact that he is still working miracles today. He is still seated at God’s right hand. All authority is his on earth as it is in Heaven. It’s with that authority that, in the words of Matthew’s Gospel, we go and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. He will work with us, if we will only go and tell.

 

As I have already said, this is the final talk in our series on Mark. In January, God willing, I will begin a new series which will take the form of personal testimonies to God’s goodness to me throughout my life. Meanwhile, some 300 podcasts of my teaching remain available.

Talk 47  Mark 15:40-47 The Burial of Jesus   

Welcome to Talk 47 in our series on Mark’s Gospel. We have now reached Mark 15:40. Today we’ll be concentrating on Jesus’ burial and, as we do so, we’ll take time to note the importance of the certification of his death and of the key roles played by Joseph of Arimathea and women like Mary Magdalene. Next time, which will be our final talk in this series, we’ll be looking at Mark’s account of the resurrection and the Great Commission.

 

As we proceed we will take time to stress the importance of each of these historical facts without getting involved with relatively minor issues like the apparent differences in the Gospel accounts, or whether, as some have argued, Jesus was actually crucified on the Thursday, rather than, as is traditionally taught, on what we know as Good Friday. Such discussion is generally unproductive.

 

As far as any differences in the accounts are concerned, I have already pointed out in my book, You’d Better Believe It, that the Schofield Bible offers an explanation of how the different accounts of Christ’s resurrection appearances can be reconciled. What’s more, any such differences actually strengthen the case for the resurrection as they suggest that there was no collaboration between the four writers. And does it really matter what day he was crucified? Surely what matters is that Christ died for our sins… was buried… and rose again. This, says Paul in 1 Corinthians 15:1-4, is the essence of the gospel.

 

So, over these two final talks, we’ll take the text of Mark’s Gospel as we have it and consider Jesus’ burial, the confirmation of his death, his resurrection, and his last instructions to his disciples.

 

We’ll begin today by reading verses 42-47:

42 It was Preparation Day (that is, the day before the Sabbath). So as evening approached, 43 Joseph of Arimathea, a prominent member of the Council, who was himself waiting for the kingdom of God, went boldly to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body. 44 Pilate was surprised to hear that he was already dead. Summoning the centurion, he asked him if Jesus had already died. 45 When he learned from the centurion that it was so, he gave the body to Joseph. 46 So Joseph bought some linen cloth, took down the body, wrapped it in the linen, and placed it in a tomb cut out of rock. Then he rolled a stone against the entrance of the tomb. 47 Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses saw where he was laid.

 

We’ll start with the confirmation of Jesus’ death. Joseph goes to Pilate and asks for the body of Jesus, but Pilate needs to be sure that Jesus is already dead. Some victims of crucifixion had been known to survive for days. He summons the centurion who crucified Jesus, who assures him that Jesus really is dead. So Pilate gives the body to Joseph.

 

Why is this important? Why has Mark chosen to include this detail about the certification of Jesus’ death? Because the entire truth of the resurrection rests upon it. There have always been those who, refusing to believe the clear evidence of the Gospel writers, have argued that Jesus only appeared to die on the cross but recovered in the tomb and walked out! And if Jesus did not die, the resurrection is a myth! There is no truth in the gospel that Christ died for our sins, that he was buried and that he rose again (1 Corinthians 15:1-4). The certainty of the resurrection rests securely on the certainty of his death.

 

And his burial is important too. This not only gives added confirmation to the fact that Jesus was truly dead, but it also helps us in our understanding of the significance of baptism. In Romans 6:4 and Colossians 2:12 Paul teaches us that in baptism we are buried with Christ and raised with him to live a new life through our faith in the power of God. Of course, the word for baptise in Greek is baptizo which always means immerse, and all baptisms in the New Testament were by immersion. But how does this relate to Jesus’ burial? Let me put it like this:

 

When we first put our faith in Jesus we acknowledged that on the cross he died in our place, to take the punishment for our sins. In so doing we identified ourselves with his death. That’s why Paul could say in Galatians 2:20, I was crucified with Christ, and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. When you gave your life to Christ, you became a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17). The old you died and a new you came alive. Baptism is a wonderful picture of that truth. Jesus died, was buried, and rose again. In baptism you act out your identification with him as you are buried in the water and come up out of it to live out the new life he has already given you. (See my book, You’d Better Believe It, for more on this).

 

But let’s look now at the man who buried the Lord Jesus, Joseph of Arimathea. Let’s read again verses 42-43.

42 It was Preparation Day (that is, the day before the Sabbath). So as evening approached, 43 Joseph of Arimathea, a prominent member of the Council, who was himself waiting for the kingdom of God, went boldly to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body.

And  verses 46-47

46 So Joseph bought some linen cloth, took down the body, wrapped it in the linen, and placed it in a tomb cut out of rock. Then he rolled a stone against the entrance of the tomb. 47 Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses saw where he was laid.

 

First, please note the urgency of the situation. As I’m sure you know, the Jewish Sabbath lasted from sunset on Friday to sunset on Saturday. That’s why it was important for Jesus to be buried very soon after he died. Apart from the fact that it was against the Law for a dead body to remain exposed overnight, for the Jews all forms of work were prohibited on the Sabbath. So if Jesus’ followers didn’t bury him before sunset the Romans would have disposed of his body as they were not subject to the laws of the Sabbath. And, as verse 42 tells us, evening was already approaching when Joseph went to Pilate to ask for Jesus’ body.

 

Joseph was a well-respected member of the Sanhedrin, most of whom, as we know, were bitterly opposed to Jesus, but Joseph was an exception. When Mark says that he was himself waiting for the kingdom of God, he is implying that Joseph was a follower of Jesus, albeit until now, secretly. He had been present at Jesus’ trial before the high priest, but we’re told in Luke 23:51 that he had not consented to their decision and action.

 

Clearly Joseph had now decided to let his respect for Jesus be known publicly. What he was about to do could hardly be kept a secret. By coming in contact with a dead body he would make himself ritually unclean and would not be able to attend the synagogue the following day. His absence would be noticed. What’s more, it was a risky thing to show sympathy with anyone who had been crucified, especially on a charge of sedition. He was in danger not only of incurring the wrath of the Jewish authorities, but of the Romans too. No doubt that’s why

Mark says that Joseph went boldly to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body.

 

Verse 46 tells us that, after Pilate had authorised Joseph to have the body

Joseph bought some linen cloth, took down the body, wrapped it in the linen, and placed it in a tomb cut out of rock. Then he rolled a stone against the entrance of the tomb.

 

Matthew 27:60 explains that this tomb was one which Joseph had had carved for himself, and, to complete the picture, John 19:39 tells us that he was accompanied by Nicodemus, the member of the Sanhedrin who had come to Jesus by night in John 3. Perhaps he too had decided that it was high time to make his secret discipleship public. The message of Christ crucified demands a decision of us all. In the light of his death, are we prepared to stand up for him?  

 

But Joseph and Nicodemus were not the only ones to play a significant part in the burial of Jesus. Verse 47 tells us that Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses saw where he was laid. It’s time for us now to consider the important role of such women in the life of Jesus, and now at his death. We’ll start by going back to verses 40 and 41.

 

40 Some women were watching from a distance. Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome. 41 In Galilee these women had followed him and cared for his needs. Many other women who had come up with him to Jerusalem were also there.

In many ways these verses should have been included at the end of our last talk, as they are part of the story of the crucifixion, but I have left them until now to link them with the references to these women a little later in the story. We have been told so much about Jesus’ male disciples that it’s easy to forget that he had female disciples too. Three women are named in these verses, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Joses, and Salome. But Mark tells us that many other women were also there watching the crucifixion from a distance. They had followed him since the early days of his ministry in Galilee and had cared for his needs. And, as we see in the last verse of the chapter and the first of the next, these devoted disciples were determined to care for his needs even after his death.

 

47 Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses saw where he was laid. 15:1 When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body.

The three women named in these verses were among many who were not only devoted followers of Jesus, but who also supported Jesus and the apostles out of their own means. Luke 8:1-3 tells us that as Jesus travelled about proclaiming the good news of the kingdom…

 

…The Twelve were with him, 2 and also some women who had been cured of evil spirits and diseases: Mary (called Magdalene) from whom seven demons had come out 3 Joanna the wife of Cuza, the manager of Herod’s household; Susanna; and many others. These women were helping to support them out of their own means.

These verses indicate the highly valued role of women among the early disciples, their devotion to Jesus often exceeding that of the men, as it does so often today. Apart from the apostle John, it was women, not men, who stood near the cross as Jesus was crucified (John 19:25-27), and, apart from secret disciples like Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, it was women who participated in his burial and brought precious spices to anoint his body. And, as we see in the next chapter, it was to women that was given the first good news that Christ was risen. We’ll move into Chapter 16 next time for the final talk in our series, but let’s conclude today’s talk by considering the role of Mary Magdalene.

 

Perhaps the first thing to notice is that it is Mary Magdalene who is mentioned first each time these women are mentioned:

 

40 Some women were watching from a distance. Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome.

 

47 Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses saw where he was laid.

15:1 When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body.

Secondly, Mary was the first person to witness the resurrection of Jesus:

 

15:9 When Jesus rose early on the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene, out of whom he had driven seven demons.

 

Thirdly, she was the first person to proclaim the news that Jesus was risen:

 

15:10 She went and told those who had been with him.

 

The question naturally arises as to why Mary was so honoured. That verse in 1 Samuel 2:30 comes to mind – Those who honour me, I will honour. Mary had honoured the Lord by supporting him throughout his ministry, by remaining to the end at the scene of the crucifixion, by following Joseph to see where Jesus was buried, and by buying spices to anoint his body. She was clearly devoted to him. And that devotion sprang from what Jesus had done for her. He had driven seven demons out of her. Her deliverance led to a lifetime of devotion.

And isn’t that what motivates us? We love him because he first loved us. And if we honour him, the day will come when he will honour us.