Some people have lived such important lives. In a recent wander through a cemetery in Pembrokeshire (SW Wales) one memorial is designed to attract attention more than any other. And it does. High above all else. The erect, stone figure can be seen from some distance. A military man of some kind, I suspect. Maybe a general? In life he commanded armies and now in death he is commanding graves. But I am not wandering for his sake. I am on a little pilgrimage. My eyes look here and there for the headstone I have come to see. Ahh, there it is. Down at the lowest point in the cemetery, close to the boundary, in a nondescript little space. Having been added far more recently than its neighbours, the colouring (and the material being used) is a little different, making it easier to locate. I draw nearer ... ... and still nearer. It is my first time back to The Hookses in Dale since John Stott died, four years ago (later this month). This is the place where John Stott
Last month Barby and I went off on a little holiday. We stopped at Lake Taupō and walked into town along the lakefront. The day was drawing to a close. The toi toi waved to us as we passed by. Their beauty—ever resilient, yet fragile—always captivates me. Barely 30 minutes later, we were retracing our steps back along the lakefront. I lingered with the same row of toi toi— but a little further along and facing another direction. Wow. What a difference. In 30 minutes... Before we had even reached our motel, I was breaking forth into song for my long-suffering audience of one. As a pastor all those years ago, it was a song I chose so often. "#448 in the Baptist hymn book". The number is with me to this day. The lyrics go like this [NB: verse 3 is not in many hymnbooks, probably because it has a pew-giggler line in it]: Loved with everlasting love, led by grace that love to know; Spirit, breathing from above, Thou has taught me it is so. O this full and perfect