A Plaque

'That's really good. Thank You for saying that.' I had another workman on my roof last week because of a broken roof vent which needed to be covered over.  No, not the same man who had given me gospel assurance before Carol's Thanksgiving Service! (a past post)  I invited him in for a cup of tea when the difficult job was completed. As he came in he halted in our small hallway to look at a decorated plaque Carol had put up. It's been there for years. I had forgotten what it said, well, I had forgotten it was there (!), and was startled as this man came through into the kitchen area for his tea and said: 'That's really good. Thank You for saying that.' 

Before he left he repeated what it had meant to him to enter the house and be greeted by these words:

PEACE to all that enter

WELCOME from our heart

ENJOY yourself within

GOD BLESS as you depart

A couple of things went through my mind.  A reminder of how Carol placed one or two plaques in our home to focus thoughts and how much they expressed her gifts of hospitality and friendship. Two other plaques in the kitchen read : Blessed is the life that is guided by love, and Life is better with good friends. The other thought was - what responsibility that places on me when people take them seriously. Coming into my home -  is it still welcoming and friendly?  That really is a good question. 

Another reunion

Just when I finished my last post two sheets of flimsy airmail letter fluttered out from some old files. It was a rare finding of some 25 year-old correspondence from my Dad.  He only occasionally wrote to me in the US and when he did he liked to tell stories. Often unusual ones. This was about the Men's Contact Club he began when minister at Faringdon Baptist Church (1948-52). A small village church he looked after while Bursar at Regent's Park College in nearby Oxford.  He wanted to form a friendship group for men, with general interest themes intended to attract others. At one meeting......

One fellow said he would get his friend to come along with his new motor bike and talk about it. The bike was a BSA Thunderflash 1000cc!  He was not too eloquent but he had some things which were quite new - for example it had a press button starter instead of the old kick starter. He showed me where the button was and I tentatively pressed it. The explosion and shattering row quite unnerved me! The room at the back of the church was rather small and adjoined some houses. So I was in quite a panic to stop the row but didn't know how. I tried to call out 'How do you stop it?' But he thought I was exulting in the powerful performance until I bellowed in  his ear.

I think that was the most impressive of meetings for John! He became a regular member of the club and his friendly personality endeared him to all - as well as the fact that he was goalkeeper for Faringdon Football Club. A few weeks later there was another meeting which was a total failure. To start with it was raining dismally and then the speaker did not turn up. There were three of us and one was John. I wondered what I could speak about. I had been reading on the bus coming home from Oxford an article which mentioned John Wesley and the fact that he had rarely met anyone who was concerned about their salvation. I felt so surprised that he made that statement. I shared this with the men. To my surprise John said 'Well you should see my wife?'

The next evening I called and found it was true. That evening she turned to the Lord. When I saw her 30 years later she said 'I have tried to be faithful'. And, casually John mentioned about their time with scouts and cubs. I had started the movement but it was not very flourishing and eventually had no leader. John took it on with his wife and the work was so flourishing that they reached the top limit for membership. and it became a great influence for good.

And why did my Dad retell this story in a letter to me?  Because 50 plus years later he had just met up again with John and his wife at Clevedon Baptist Church.  He sat between them in church and relived those former years. Another Blest be the tie that binds story

Really?

Way back, around 1970, while I was in training in Oxford I became student pastor in the Cowley Baptist church. Carol and I combined studying (me) and secondary school teaching (Carol) with pastoring a lively church.  We made many friends with some around our own age like Judith, who had come to Oxford as a community midwifery sister, having already experienced a full life of nursing service with VSO overseas.  Conscientiously she has kept in touch with us ever since.  That's the wonder of Christian friendship, like the old Baptist hymn goes: Blest be the tie that binds our hearts in Christian love. Yes, Blest!

In 2021 she published her autobiography and sent us a copy. I was intrigued to look back for mention of her Oxford days. She describes how she came to the Cowley church and mentions Carol and me, describing how we were in our twenties like her and became good friends. She also gives a potted history of what I went on to do in ministry and about our family right up unto the present. And then she wrote: It was Michael and Carol who said to me "Why don't you go with the BMS (the Baptist Missionary Society) when I was talking about going back to Africa. Strange, isn't it? I had no recollection of that conversation. 

It's an action-packed story subsequently of Judith's service in Africa, with a clear love for the Congo and many missionaries who were there. (Apparently around a 100 serving in different ways!) Marvellous to read, with photographs too. 

Why do I mention this now? Because a few days ago Judith and her sister came by coach to visit Cambridge and I was able to spend a few hours with them. Some of the time seeing Cambridge, much of it talking about her life and the many friends we had in common on the BMS mission field. Blest be the tie that binds. Of course I had to ask her about that Oxford conversation. Were Carol and I really involved? Really?  Oh, yes, she said. That happened!

You never know when God can use you.

Remembering 9/11

Carol and I had moved to the US in 2000 one year earlier and were adjusting to the lifestyle (sort of).  I have kept a daily journal since 1996 and looking back I see that on Saturday September 8th. Carol and I had taken a packed UA flight to Columbus, Ohio. I was preaching at the large ABC church which strongly supported Northern Seminary, where I taught. Various friends we met, the Hampton Inn where we stayed, and the receptions we enjoyed are all noted, including the fact that the 7.45 pm plane on Sunday was delayed, not  leaving until 9.00 pm because of storms and we arrived home late.  

Reflecting on that weekend it was fairly typical of our lives that first year. Friends had told us that hopping on and off planes was like using buses. It was so easy. I remember one of our friends bringing a traybake of chocolate brownies right up the departure door, to wave us off.  In our first year I lost count of the number of flights we made. And of the freedom to travel all over the states as a new boy speaking at events and seminaries.

9/11 was a Tuesday. My journal reads: 6:30 work on sermon. Carol calls me. TERROR as Twin Towers collapse in front of eyes. Just awful. The President calls and asks me to lead prayer for the community 11.00- 11.35. (He is out of state) Meet for lunch Egg Harbor...try to work. Difficult. Calls from UK. I work on a new sermon. Phone Tony (worship leader) about Sunday service. 

On Thursday I started work on a new sermon on Psalm 46. I remember questioning whether a US preacher should step in at a time of national mourning. No, they wanted me as their current interim preacher, and besides Brits had died in the horror too.  What an extraordinarily sad frightening week it was. Everything seemed to have changed. Hate had shaken foundations. Harrowing personal stories began to emerge from families known to us. Sadness was everywhere.

Today I have been remembering those who died and left loved ones in such a dramatic hate-filled act. Focus remains on them and their families, and on prayers for a world riven by war and hatred. Jesus still reigns with his love and promise of peace, calling us to trust and work with him in his ultimate kingdom. But how tough faith can sometimes be.  Ps 46 is an obvious psalm: God is our refuge...therefore we will not fear though the earth give way...and the mountains quake. Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall. Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations.

It's true that life changed in the US from the point on. Certainly, a turning point in our new life in the US and an opportunity to grow in faith. 

Fun interlude

Last weekend some friends invited me for supper with soup and baguette, with the intention that I would make up a foursome to play mahjong.  Giving thanks for the kind invitation I explained that I had never played mahjong and, being ruthlessly honest, I wasn't really a table game person! It has never been Carol and my 'thing'.

Graciously they said that I should come for supper anyway, but added a note that they wouldn't be able to play the game without me. To entice me they suggested I google the game to become more aware (and enthusiastic). Actually, I had already googled it and been somewhat overwhelmed by the complications of its symbols and rules! I know that any mahjong afficionado reading this will be horrified by my casual attitude to what is clearly a great and serious game.

Guess what happened? After a tasty supper the mahjong  tiles were opened up and spread over the table. Painstakingly the tiles were explained alongside the rules, with assurance that I would be helped every step of the way. As I created my wall and examined tiles, seeking to match some of them up my kind host, sitting on my right, explained I had some good ones and what we would be doing next. My presence required patience from the other three when each turn reached me. I wasn't sure how the process might end. I wasn't sure about anything! I was told to exclaim pung as I laid out three identical tiles and kong as I arrived at four. Tutored by my helper all the way, she would look at the remaining tiles and make suggestions. Suddenly, and to my surprise, she said that my last tile completed my group and I should declare mahjong.  Which meant I had won the round!

My host counted up the points. The highest total was 32 until he began totting up mine. Quite unwittingly I had combined some point scoring tiles. My total was 144. The others were gracious at my utterly undeserved victory. Utterly undeserved. 

It reminded me how grace works in the Christian life.  It really is amazing grace how the Lord works for us and brings us through.  It also reminded me how good it is to be with friends for a happy supper. .

Something you said

It was definitely odd. At one of the celebration tea tables at Arbury 60th. I took the last place where a couple of my friends were already seated. I introduced myself to the other five and the man sitting on my right replied with his name  Asking him about his story he happily revealed that he had worked as a cleaner at a large restaurant but was now retired with a mixed health story.  In pastoral mode I listened and occasionally chipped in when suddenly, with a jolt, he turned his head: ' You said your name is Michael. Is it Michael Quicke?'  'Why yes,' I admitted. I had to!

'I thought so', he replied. 'It was something you said that reminded me of something you used to say. I realized it must be you!'  'What was the something I said? I asked.  Genuinely interested. Do I have some vocabulary that could so definitely identify me? A rather disturbing thought. Well, he couldn't remember what particularly struck him - apparently it was just the way I spoke. 

And then it became clearer ' You married me at St. Andrew's St Baptist Church back in the mid 80's' he claimed. Then checking himself, he added: 'No, I think it was the associate minister who actually married us, but you were there. And that's why I know your voice.'

What an intriguing incident, reminding me of the distinctiveness of our voices. I know how much they convey who we are.  My younger son, Rob, a professor in the US, wrote a book: Finding your voice, in radio, audio and podcast production. Unusually he spends much time at the beginning helping students strengthen their self-understanding, encouraging them (by various exercises) to recognize qualities, abilities as well as limitations which contribute to unique personalities with distinctive voices. All adding up to reveal authentically who they are!  

Another reminder that how we speak and sound really matters!

A season

I have long been aware of God's seasons of blessing when a whole Christian community experiences joyful God- happenings. They happen in God's good timing - the Spirit blows where he wills! Last Saturday I was back at Arbury Road Baptist Church where 60 years ago we celebrated the opening of a new church building. I was 21 years old and I vividly recall elements of the story leading up to this event. Because my father was minister I could hardly avoid the event. So many factors coalesced into a glorious God season.

• a packed church fast out-growing the old premises
• commitment to pray for vision about the future, developing into possibilities of new premises to be built in gardens around the inadequate old building.
• sheer generosity - one of the members, who was an architect, designed a building (which still looks contemporary) and promised oversight of the building process as his gift to God.
• collective boldness in giving. My father held a 'Sit-In' when church members brought gifts and loans to him in dedication for the project (he did not know the financial details - that was confidential to the Treasurer who sat next door!)  What a great idea that I copied in two church projects myself)
• signs during and following of God's blessing as the congregation grew, with baptisms and launch of the first 'All-Age-Sunday School in British Baptist life. 

The day of opening shines brightly in my memory bank. Such excitement of a new worship area with real cause to worship inside it. What a crowning event in a rich period of congregational growth, resulting in the need for an associate minister to join the leadership team.

On Saturday a crowd enjoyed a celebration tea. I found two photographs: one of the old church in the snow in 1963, and the other in the week of completion of the new, with builders' rubble still piled in front. They've gone into the archives. Only 3 of us were there as witnesses to events 60 years ago, but what a time to celebrate God's goodness in a great past season of joy. I hope you can reflect on a season like that -maybe it's happening right now in your church!