When ‘on time’ is late!

In 1957, when I was 8, my parents moved from South to North Wales. My mother was rather lonely, so they started to go to chapel, previously they had just sent us to Sunday School.

We went in the evening as my Dad played golf in the morning, and he decided we’d go to a little chapel as he felt the larger one merely wanted him as he was Manager of the town’s Labour Exchange.

He particularly enjoyed, as many Welsh people did and do, the four-part harmony singing and the many singing festivals. He had some understanding and appreciation of the gospel, but considered that the preaching he heard had little to say of any use at that time, and in his mind and to us (not said to the speakers), dared the preacher to speak for more than twenty minutes if he really had nothing to say of any help. We sat in a pew next to the big clock.

Anyway, about ‘early’, as in the IP! The chapel had a habit of starting the service early for some reason (was someone’s watch wrong?). My father liked to be ‘on time’, so frequently we were stood in the vestibule waiting til we could go in with not too much disturbance, or embarrassment, and my father pointing out to the man on the door the very big clock in the Post Office window opposite, showing not yet six o’clock. I don’t know if the message ever got further.

Later on, again because of his work, we had to  move to London.  I had a teacher who got us all thinking about the gospel — what we knew and would accept, who was/is Jesus Christ, and what of God … I talked quite a lot to my Father and one Sunday evening he agreed to take me and my mother up to Westminster Chapel. I think my group of friends had visited while we were on holiday. It was a huge place where Dr Martyn Lloyd Jones, who had left a Harley Street medical career, was preaching regularly, and many finding his preaching very clear, reasoned and helpful

We were up in the big gallery. Dr Martyn preached for forty minutes. I could see my father was engrossed the whole time. Afterwards I asked him what he thought — ‘Don’t ask me now’, he said. Obviously moved and needed to think. No question of lack of coherent, useful content.

He died in less than a year, suddenly (age 51). We found a J B Phillips’ New Testament with his much underlining and comments in the margins. He was troubled by hypocrisy. One of the verses he had underlined  was John 6:68 — “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

[IP: early]