America Again
Twice already the Moyes had postponed their trip to America. Once when the second visa came through shortly after Beverley discovered that she was pregnant, and again when there were so many new projects afoot in the Ararat Church and a huge building project under way, they had deferred their plans for a further twelve months.
Now almost two years had passed since their first attempt to leave Australia, and if they didn’t go soon they would have all the problems of applying for new visas and re-making their plans.
“It’s now or never, Beverley.” Gordon drummed the arm of the dilapidated lounge. “We came here for six months and we’ve been here nearly four times that long.”
Beverley nodded. She sat opposite Gordon in another well-worn armchair, a basket of sun-dried washing at her feet. As she listened to her husband’s musings her busy fingers smoothed and folded nappies and singlets. Three-year old Jenny and baby Peter seldom allowed her the luxury of sitting idle.
“The church is going ahead and healthy in every respect,” Gordon continued. “Enthusiastic members, no debts, new buildings—we won’t feel that we are letting anyone down if we go to America now.”
Again Beverley nodded. She sometimes thought her husband was a bit like Alexander the Great, liable to become restless if he had no more worlds to conquer.
“I suppose now would be as good time as any,” she said. “When Jenny turns four we will have to pay half fares everywhere for her and that will bump up our expenses.”
“Oh, that’s not the main consideration.” Gordon shrugged, “I just feel that now is the right time for us to go.
“Will you tell the Conference President?”
“Of course, but not until I have contacted the college in Indiana and made sure that the former arrangements and scholarship still stands. It will be better if we don’t say anything to anyone at church headquarters until everything’s settled.”
Even to himself Gordon would not admit that his zeal for further study had waned a little. For nearly two years he had worked up to sixteen hours a day for seven days a week and he wondered whether he could easily settle back into the routine of study. In a lengthy article in the Ararat Advertiser, Chris Fisher had dubbed him as “The Human Dynamo” and maybe that’s what he was, a man who needed action.
But it has to be now or never, he stubbornly reminded himself. It will only be harder as time goes on. I’m 28 and if I want to earn a doctorate—and I do—then we must go now.
Despite the Moyes’ decision not to mention their plans to their superiors, that mysterious something called `the grapevine’ carried the news to the Conference of the Churches of Christ in Victoria. The committee decided to do something about it.
“We lose too many of our promising young men,” grumbled one of the committee members. “They get dazzled with the idea of degrees and titles, rush off to America, and that’s the last we see of them.”
“Yes, we must do something to stop Moyes from leaving,” the president’s brow furrowed in concentration, “he’s needed here. We have several churches without ministers and several more where ministers beyond retiring age are doing little else than hold the congregation together. We need young men. Even if they are a bit impulsive at times, they know the needs of other young people.”
Hearty “Amens” greeted this observation. Then another man spoke up, “We need to heed St Paul’s admonition and `catch them with guile.’ We’re all agreed that we don’t want young Moyes sailing off to America, but how do we stop him? We’ll have to offer something better than a degree.”
There were more “Amens” and in the lengthy discussion that followed the committee decided to organize a call that Gordon would find irresistible.
Ignorant of all these goings on at church headquarters, Gordon was amazed to receive a letter from the chairman of the committee asking whether he would be interested in pastoring the Cheltenham Church in Victoria. He read the letter to Beverley.
“What do you think of that?”
Beverley’s blue eyes expressed her amazement. “That’s one of the biggest Churches of Christ in the whole of Australia.”
“Yes, and it’s one of the oldest. It says here `one hundred and ten years old.’ Don’t you remember, we went there once, Bev? It’s a fine church with a large congregation.”
“What a pity this invitation hadn’t come sooner. Maybe we could have thought about it.”
“Oh yes, there’s no question of accepting it. We’ll be off in January as planned. I’ll write them a polite rejection letter and explain why.”
He wrote his letter and expected that to end the matter. Instead, a few weeks later another letter arrived asking him to reconsider his decision. The letter pointed out what an honour it was for one as young as he to be offered the pastorate of such a significant church. Not only that but the call was symbolic of the trust the church placed in him.
Such veiled flattery could not fail to make its mark. After the children had settled down for their afternoon nap Gordon and Beverley discussed the matter from every angle.
It was true that they had not put down deep roots during their two-year stay in Ararat. They loved the people and had made many friends but they had not outlaid much money on making themselves comfortable. They still used odd crockery and cutlery and furniture from the second-hand store. Even so it would mean a tremendous upheaval to once again sell or give away all their possessions—as well as the trauma of travelling with two young children.
Balanced against that was the undisputed fact that if they did not go to America now they never would, and Gordon would not earn his coveted degree.
While they were still in the throes of indecision the Conference Executive and the Executive of the Cheltenham Church of Christ wrote suggesting that they talk the matter over personally.
This caused the Moyes more anxiety. Was God trying to tell them something? Eventually they decided to meet with the church officials and at least discuss the offer. On the set date Gordon and Beverley and their children drove to a motel in Parkville and met the Parish secretary, the treasurer, and the chairman of the Board of Church Officers.
To his chagrin Gordon found that the church representatives had brought along a scrapbook of newspaper cuttings taken from the Ararat Advertiser. Page after page displayed headlines such as:
YOUTH ABOUT TO LOSE A GREAT FRIEND. A MAN WHO MADE NEWS EVERYWHERE. CHURCH OF CHRIST LED TO GROW AS NEVER BEFORE.
Underneath each heading there were column inches of Chris Fisher’s eulogies about his friend, Gordon Moyes.
These Churche officials had more statistics and background information about him than he had ever imagined. He felt thankful that during his ministry he had always walked the straight and narrow.
For the next few hours the church officials proceeded to sell the idea of Cheltenham Church. The more they said, the more the call appealed. Eventually both parties decided that the Moyes should be allowed two weeks to think, talk, and pray before making a decision.
During the two week period Gordon decided that before making up his mind he should visit the minister of Cheltenham Church of Christ.
This man was a former missionary and had at one time been president of the denomination. Now in his sixties, he was still an arresting speaker, well-respected and highly regarded as a statesman. Gordon had heard him preach and thought highly of his eloquence and capabilities. He vaguely wondered why such a great man should be wanting to leave Cheltenham and concluded that it must be for health or family reasons.
Accordingly he made an appointment to chat with the present minister. After the greetings and niceties of custom were dealt with, Gordon began asking questions about the Cheltenham Church, its membership and operation and in particular, when the great man expected to be vacating the manse.
“Vacating the manse?” The minister started in surprise and his rimless spectacles nearly fell off his nose. “I didn’t know I was leaving either the manse or this church.”
Too late Gordon realized that although the Conference officials had offered him the position of pastoring the Cheltenham Church, in case of his rejection they had said nothing to the incumbent pastor.
Blushing and confused he apologized profusely and murmured something about “rumours going around.” Then without asking any more questions he fled as fast as he could politely go.
Driving back to Ararat Gordon stewed over the situation. He deeply regreted the pain he had unwittingly caused and reproached himself for not being more careful. As soon as he reached home he told Beverley about his faux pas and then sat down and wrote to the committee chairman again declining the offer.
However, a few months later it came as no surprise to the Moyes to learn that the resident minister of Cheltenham had resigned. Soon afterwards he moved out of the manse and left the big church without a pastor.
For the third time, Gordon and Beverley Moyes were invited to care for the Cheltenham Church.
