Last week I preached on the subject of remembrance in relation to our faith, using Moses’ words in Deuteronomy about Israel as they prepared to enter the Promised Land; this was a topical sermon because it was Remembrance Sunday. It was also reinforced by the visit of my eldest son from Bristol. We went out for a meal and then home to watch the England versus Australia rugby union match, before he returned home.
He is now 50 and we enjoy each other’s company. Most of our conversations are about the church, our faith, and the circumstances of life. We rattle along spewing out ideas and questions as iron sharpens iron – we philosophize about what has been, what is and what will hopefully happen, as we explore past realties, present vicissitudes and future expectations. There is never a dull moment. Amidst all this brain storming there is the occasional yelp of encouragement for the England team as they charge across the pitch, striving for the Australian line.
In the midst of that rambling discussion and delight at our relationship and the football, I suddenly remembered something I have never been clear about stemming from Leighton’s childhood. He was an extremely bright young lad, and he attended St. Mary’s Church of England School in Mosley where we lived. 99% of those children passed for grammar schools, and nearly all aimed for the King Edward Schools, which were the top schools in Birmingham and probably the country. His brother Greshame about two years younger also went to that primary school. Leighton was put in for the King Edward High School by his headmaster with the expectation that he would pass, but he didn’t and his younger brother did and was awarded a scholarship. I could never understand that for Leighton was brighter in my opinion than Greshame. He knew 23 nursery rhymes and the Lord’s Prayer by heart by the time was two and could read before he was four.
However, Leighton told me, amongst the growing excitement of England actually winning a rugby match that the reason he never passed was because two examination pages were stuck together and he missed answering the questions on those pages. He finished early and, as he was checking through the pages he had done, knowing he had answered them correctly, he suddenly realised his dilemma as the stuck pages opened up, and as he stared at them in panic the bell rang for the end of the exam. He was awarded a place in the King Edward Camp Hill Grammar School the one down from the High School, which was opposite my house. He had either forgotten to tell me all those years ago or he did and I had forgotten; I think the former!
I mused as to where he would now be if he had passed, for at Camp Hill he got in with crowd of boys who loved rugby and so did he. He represented his school, and Birmingham and, as an automatic by-product, his homework and study became secondary. He didn’t put the work in and of course his studies suffered, but he redeemed himself in the end and gained 11 ‘O’ and 6 ‘A’ levels. A different school a different teacher, and who knows, life hangs on the small things; two pages stuck together!
We can look back and see where a small event shaped our life, and wonder if God was in it. I have to believe that he is, and His purpose is for our prosperity and blessing, whatever we may think to the contrary. We will have disappointments and sadness, but we can’t dwell on that for life is too short and we must avail ourselves of current possibilities. “If only” must not form part of a Christian’s vocabulary, it will anchor them in a continual disillusionment that will rob them of joy and happiness; despondency sets in and cripples faith for the future.
When I was a boy of 16 I left the technical college where I had taken a two-year course in engineering. I was not bright enough to pass for a grammar school, so it was a vocational life for me. However, in the sixth form we had to do a research essay as a culminating assignment before we left school. I did it on Warwick castle, well illustrated with illuminations at the head of each paragraph, artistically done in gilt. My house master took it to the staff lounge and teachers saw it and recommend that I apply for the senior art school in Birmingham, for I was wasting my time as an engineer. When I told my parents they simply said I had to go to work to help keep the home, my education time was up.
A small thing, and yet large in my eyes; I never drew again from that point on. I went into the building and civil engineering industry, and from there built my own church [twice], perhaps that would never have happened if I had gone to art school? Disappointed, yes but also compensations; God can change things to our good – Oh YES!
