To Stay or Go?
I was 26 when I left my work as a country parson to take up the prestigious position as the Minister of Cheltenham Church of Christ Victoria. This Church had the reputation of being a very large and alive Church. But that was a mirage. The reality was quite different as this young country parson was soon to discover. The life of a suburban Minister has some real surprises.
1969 started off for us in a big way at the Cheltenham Church of Christ. Billy Graham was coming to town and so, at the church, we were busy organising for his arrival. I was given the task of leading what was called a Christian Life and Witness Class. This was an inter-church group of people who would be trained to act as counsellors during the Crusade. Enthused with this tremendous responsibility I went around all the churches and organised the recruitment of people for my class. I certainly did it with enthusiasm which apparently caught on everywhere and as a result my class grew in it’s registrations larger and larger as we approached the first night of training. We had to shift from various church halls to larger and larger premises and then eventually to the Moorabbin Town Hall. On the opening night over a thousand people attended my class with notebook and Bible in hand, ready to learn the art of counselling and leading others to Christ. My role was not to teach them but to chair the meeting, song-lead a few hymns, develop the right spirit, attend to all the announcements and arrangements and introduce the trainer of our programme who had just arrived from the successful Billy Graham Crusade in Singapore, Mr. Henry Holly. Henry had been working for the Billy Graham Team for ten or twelve years and was now a most affable and competent trainer. Over the six weeks of those classes our numbers grew night by night and a deep friendship developed between Henry and myself.
At the same time as running this huge class of more than a thousand people, we were organising the visitation of two and a half thousand homes around our church, inviting people to attend, organising buses to go from the church to attend the Crusades, and then during the great nights of the Crusade themselves I was acting as chief adviser with a special place at the foot of the platform directing counsellors and advisers as hundreds of people came forward each night with commitments to Christ. Then, there were several months of follow-up classes.
Because our church had been so involved in preparation for the Crusade, in conducting prayer meetings, outreach meetings and what was called “Operation Andrew”, scores of non-Christian people came to the Crusade with us, made commitments to Christ and then desired to join our church as members. All of these needed to grow in their Christian faith and their involvement in the life of the church. Every Sunday night in that first half of 1969 we had baptism services and every Sunday morning welcomed new families and individuals into the life of our church. As part of our follow-up over the next months we ran a whole series of Christian education courses, teaching people with many of the competent people in our church leading classes in Christian doctrine and theology, church history and so on. Some of these classes were attended with more enthusiasm than others.
I was running a class, for example, in Old Testament History. It was not a popular class. I taught the same class twice each week – a day time class and then again at night. During the night class we struggled to maintain numbers. I had about sixteen people in the day class but the night class was not well attended. In fact, looking now at my journal I see that we averaged fifteen people in the daytime lectures, but one night in the middle of the winter holidays and on a terribly rainy night only one person attended. I’ll read to you what I wrote in my diary. “Ray Barns arrived in the most dreadful of wet weather. I have developed a warm friendship with Ray and we discussed whether we would have the lecture or not, seeing he was the only person who turned up, but I was steamed up and wanted to go ahead even though only Ray was present. That night I covered more than a thousand years of Jewish history from the patriarchs to Solomon in what was a very stiff session.”
The next week at the class when a few more were present Ray told everybody what had happened the previous week and then said to the class “In a country church, one wet night, no-one turned up for the Service except one farmer. The minister suggested the night was so bad that they cancel the Service. But the farmer said “If I took a load of hay out into the paddock and found only one cow, I would still feed her.” Chastened by this comment the Minister entered the pulpit, conducted the Service, sang the hymns, took the offering, had the prayers and preached the sermon. Later on he thanked the farmer for his advice, but the farmer replied “Well, I don’t know about that. I said that if I took a load of hay out into the paddock and found only one cow I would feed her – but I certainly wouldn’t dump the whole bloomin’ load on top of her!” The class erupted in laughter. Apparently in my enthusiasm Ray felt I had dumped the whole of Old Testament History on top of him.
It was a very warm friendly ministry during 1969. It was my fourth year of full-time ministry and we had already had tremendous success with large numbers of new people coming, with record attendances and offerings, we had purchased land for a new building, and all of the signs of the church’s health were on the way up. My initial five-year term as minister of the Cheltenham Church of Christ would soon be up and the church was rather anxious that we came to an agreement, before the year ended, about our future. We were greatly impressed that the church had a business meeting without us, and agreed unanimously that we should be invited for a further five years of ministry which would take us up to 1976. They expressed their desire in the most loving way and delivered it in a beautiful letter which I have kept.
However, we were hesitant. It was not that we were not willing to stay on, but we had received a call to minister at another church. The trouble was, it wasn’t just “any other church”. It was the National Capital City Church in Canberra.
The Canberra Church of Christ was always in the news of that year. Just a few months earlier Harold Holt had drowned in Cheviot Beach. President L.B. Johnson had come from America to attend Harold Holt’s funeral in Melbourne. On his way home he went to Canberra and had a meeting with our federal politicians and as part of his visit to Canberra indicated that he wanted to go to church, to the denomination to which he belonged which was ours. With very little time to organise anything he called up our National Capital City Church minister, organised a private meeting and discussion with him and then attended the Sunday morning service. It was very impressive to have the President of the United States in the congregation that morning.
But then again, our minister who was just completing a twenty-five year term of ministry had a very significant role in the life of Canberra. He had been Chaplain to the House of Representatives in Parliament and knew all the representatives closely and personally. Quite a number of Federal parliamentarians were members of the Church of Christ. There were always reports in our national church paper that the minister was a dinner guest at Government House with Lord Casey who was the Governor General, and was invited to take special roles on government committees. When John Gorton became Prime Minister he was greatly attracted to the National Capital Church and frequently attended church services there. Now they wanted a new minister. The distinguished predecessor was retiring and they had indicated they wanted a younger man with good education who was passionate and a leader of men, who was willing to stay for a considerable period of time to take up a new generation of leadership.
At that stage our daughter was seven, and we had two sons aged four and two. As we were considering this very heady invitation to come to Canberra, I received another letter from the Federal Conference Executive of Churches of Christ in Australia. They wrote saying in part “We are aware that you have received a call from the National Capital Church of Christ. We want you to know that this is a very strategic appointment and the Federal Conference Executive, composed of representatives of all states, would encourage you to accept that call. We prayed over this matter earnestly and we believe it is God’s will for you to accept.”
It was that last line that they were convinced it was God’s will that we should go that made us uneasy. I’ll be honest and admit that the status and significance of that ministry greatly appealed to me as it was the most incredible offer any young minister should receive. On the other hand, we were having an enjoyable ministry at Cheltenham and I had no indication from the Lord that my time of ministry was up. However, when the Federal Conference Executive spoke like that we had to treat the invitation seriously. So I reluctantly wrote to Canberra agreeing for my wife and I to come up and meet them on a Saturday in a few weeks time. We felt that no-one in the Cheltenham church should know about this so we said nothing. We covered our tracks well and casually remarked to our friends that we would be going over to visit my mother at Box Hill on this particular Saturday. We did. We left the kids with her and sped out to the Essendon Airport for the flight to Canberra.
I can remember being quite excited as I drove Beverley and myself to the airport. We felt like newly-weds, running away and doing something naughty without other people knowing. Only rarely had we been in a plane together. This was a heady experience.
We were met at the airport by a delegation of very serious and senior men and whisked by car to a rendezvous and then introduced to a dozen or more very distinguished people. I can remember Beverley and I being taken around the circle, being introduced to people one at a time by the Chairman. The Chairman of the Board of the church was Sir Charles Adderman, at that time a minister in the government who was responsible for Veterans Affairs. He was one of the great Christian leaders of our denomination and held in high regard. He introduced a series of people one after the other “This is Sir William Bradigan; Major General Duster Staunton DSO and Bar; Lady Bradigan who is Chairman of the Canberra General Hospital; Professor Henry Broderick, Head of the History Department of ANU; Dr. Wilson Taylor, Principal of Grammar; Geoff Nethercott, Head of Protocol in the PM’s Department – Geoff’s recently been appointed Grade 5 you know so we’re all celebrating with him” and so on round the circle. Twice I was introduced to people with the comment “He is Class 5 you know.”
I presumed this was something of significance. I must admit that I never knew what a Class 5 was. I very quickly learned that in this church there was a new language spoken – the Public Service language and it was matched by a Public Service mentality.
In our discussions about my own ministry and what I thought I could do ministering with them, and in answer to questions that I asked them, I noticed that everything seemed to be spoken of in a most public service kind of way. It almost seemed that everything had to be in writing and in triplicate. Someone commented to me “You would only need to give us a copy of your plans. We’ll give them the once over and then it would be over to you.” I started asking them some questions “What about you leaders? Who among you are teachers? Who visits the sick? Any of you here who share your faith with other people? ”
My hosts looked at each other around the room and there were one or two nervous coughs. Someone replied, I think it was Major General Duster Staunton, “We’re not into that sort of thing. It’s not that we’re opposed. You go ahead. That will be OK. We will support you, but the people here are not given to a great deal of that kind of involvement. It’s all very difficult you must realise when you’re a Class Five calling on someone who is Class Two – it sort of puts a strain on the relationship.”
Others nodded and added words of agreement. We had a nice luncheon out on the lawns of the church under the beautiful deciduous trees which were breaking forth with fresh green leaves of spring. Even at lunch time it was a crisp Canberra day. I noted the sandwiches were neatly cut with delicate fillings and everything was served on silver trays with fine china cups. I noticed that everybody dressed very properly on this Saturday and even Major General Duster Staunton, relaxed in his civvies and casual gear, wore a perfectly knotted cravat. It was all very proper.
We walked through the manse beside the church. It was the loveliest manse we’d ever seen, built of solid brick with large oil heaters – so much different from the wooden house in Cheltenham. Sir William Bradigan who had taken over the leadership of the little tour party, said to me in a hushed voice “You’ll have no money problems here. We just discuss what’s needed and then we all agree to dob in a bob or two and we have adequate for anything we want to do. If you have any needs at all just ask. Of course, you’ll be on top salary – we can’t have our minister being paid less than the best. You will get a book allowance, you only need to turn in a chit that is signed, and the car allowance is at the Public Service mileage rates which are much in advance of what they have been paying you in Melbourne – you only need keep a Log Book with you. There’s a phone allowance – just record all your private calls and we will just sign off each three months. And of course there’s study leave and recreation leave and sick leave and holiday leave loading at 17½%, and all that sort of thing – it’s all at Public Service rates Class 2 so you’re on a fairly good wicket.” I thanked Sir William Bradigan for his confidence and for the information that he gave me.
Eventually we shook hands all round and got in the car to be driven back to the Airport and as I wound down the window I overheard one say to the other “Nice young chap – got a nice wife – they seem very impressed!”
We said our goodbyes at the Airport and got into the plane in silence. We sat there in silence as the plane taxied on to the runway. The plane took off in silence and ascended into the air. I then looked at Beverley and she looked at me “What do you think?” Beverley replied “You’ll suffocate there! You would have no freedom to be yourself or minister as you like.” I agreed instantly. “I’ll write to them today and let them know.” As far as we were concerned that was the end of the call to Canberra.
The next morning was a cold spring Sunday and I went over to the church quite early before the first of the two morning services. By now both services were cram-packed every Sunday. Alan Smythe, the Chairman of the Board, and John Grieve, our Church Secretary, were already there when I arrived which was most unusual at that hour. They walked over to me and said “How did you get on in Canberra?” I looked at them in utter disbelief. “How did you know?” John replied “How did we know? Everybody knows. It’s been an open secret for weeks. There’s even been people praying that God would guide you in your decision.”
Alan Smythe, the Chairman, said “Don’t forget I’m on the Federal Conference Executive. I knew that they practically directed you to go. I guess it’s not fair to expect an answer just yet, but we all expect you to go. A young minister doesn’t pass up the national capital pulpit. That’s our most prestigious position. We just wanted you to know that we know, and it’s OK by us if you want to go. It’s only about four or five men in a century that get offered that job so we understand. We don’t want you to resign but if you do we want you to know that we’re your friends and we wish you well.” The two of them held out their hands for me to shake. I thanked them, mumbled something and moved off. It really caught me unawares.
As I sat in the pulpit that morning looking out over the congregation, it wasn’t just a sea of faces. I was sure they were all looking at me in a funny way, trying to read my mind. I could feel the tension that was in the Service. I felt that this uncertainty and tension just couldn’t go on. They were expecting my resignation that morning. It was an unusual feeling I had never felt before, but it was as real as anything I had ever felt. When the time came for me to preach I stood up and placing my Bible to one side, said “Friends, I want to put my sermon to one side for a moment to speak to you about a personal matter.” The air was electric with expectation.
“Friends, it appears that a number of you have been aware that Beverley and I have been invited to the National Capital Church in Canberra and that the Federal Conference Executive of Churches of Christ has written and endorsed that call, saying they believed it was God’s will that we should go. We have enjoyed ministry here for the past four years and we’re deeply moved by the recent invitation from the church to extend our ministry by another five years at the end of next year. You may have been wondering why I haven’t replied to your kind invitation. It was because the Federal Conference Executive expressed the opinion that we should seriously consider the call to Canberra and that they believed it was God’s will that we should go.
“I want you to know that we flew up to Canberra yesterday, spent the day with the key people who showed us about the capital and the church and with whom we had discussion about ministry there. I have only heard this morning that most of you were aware of all of this and that many of you were praying that God would guide us and some of you were praying that God would guide us to stay here.
“Well, God has guided us. We have been thinking about the future and Beverley and I agree that there is no place we would rather be, where our three young children can grow up in, than here at Cheltenham with you and your children. I would like you to know that we intend to accept your kind offer to stay another five years.”
“Hallelujah!” In the front row, tall Alan Smythe jumped to his feet. He had never said anything like that in church before. He was a most reserved man. But he leapt from his seat and facing the congregation said “Friends, we have got something to celebrate this morning.” Then he asked if others would like to say a word after he had had his say. They just didn’t do that in Churches of Christ in those days, but person after person stood up and praised God for the decision and for our ministry.
The sermon was never preached. It remains in my collection this day with a simple remark written across the top “Not Preached”.
On some other occasion I would like to tell you what happened after that day, because that day released an incredible amount of energy among our people. They seemed to appreciate our decision as a vote of confidence in them, and the next five years – indeed the next eight years – were years of incredible growth and development within the life of the church until the day came when a group of people from Wesley Mission, Sydney sat in my congregation and gave a call to become Superintendent here. That decision, for our children to grow up among their children, and to minister in response to their invitation released the most amazing response from a group of people that I have ever encountered.
That night in my study I spent some time writing up my journal and looking out of the window at the never ending stream of cars stopping at the traffic lights at the corner of Nepean Highway and Chesterville Road, that wide intersection that was dominated by the lovely white Church with the high white tower noting down the events of another day as a suburban minister.
GORDON MOYES