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MY LAST VISIT WITH JOHN STOTT
June 17, 2001
By Peter C. Moore
July 28, 2011
"There was a man sent from God whose name was John"
John the Baptist, to whom the above reference refers, was beheaded by a king in a palace at a relatively young age. John Stott, who from my first meeting in January of 1957 spent his final days on earth in a small bed-sitter in a rest home for retired clergy about 30 miles south of London. He was weak, frail, nearly blind, and bedridden. He had turned 90 this spring, and was expecting to go home to the Lord very soon.
But in his heyday, and for more than a half century, John Stott had an impact on his world akin to that of John the Baptist. Both were sent from God. Both pointed to Jesus. Both attempted to live very simply. Both had few possessions. Both were filled with the Holy Spirit. Both had a group of disciples who drank deeply from their wisdom. Both operated on the fringes of power - political as well as ecclesiastical. Both were men who knew the Scriptures and the power of God.
There the similarities end. The Baptist was a rough-hewn, plain-speaking, abrasive country preacher. John Stott was a highly educated, urbane, son of a titled English doctor, who spoke and wrote in impeccable Oxford English. Moreover John Stott was a diplomat, statesman, apologist, and scholar. Could there be two Johns more different?
Now that we have news that John Stott has left us for greener pastures in heaven, an event that happened on July 27th, I want to share a few reflections with you on my visit to St Barnabas' in Surrey just over a month ago, and a few thoughts about the 40 minutes I had with my mentor, model, and dear friend.
Remarkably he was well enough to see me, as other visitors had been discouraged from coming. His health had been precarious all spring. But a window opened up, and John told his lifetime secretary Frances Whitehead that he would definitely see me.
I fed him coffee through a straw, and sipped from a cup myself. We talked of old times such as the time we had a water pistol fight on Christmas morning at the Rectory in London, and the breakfast we shared a few years back on a terrace overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway in Florida.
We talked about the Anglican Communion and the struggle for Truth that is straining the "bonds of affection" within it. I read him Psalm 34, one of his favorites. I took his hand and prayed, giving thanks for his life, and commending him to our Father. Before I left I said that we would soon see each other in heaven. He agreed. A Philippine assistant came in to feed him his lunch, and I quietly left. I then went outside and wept.
He was embarrassed for me to see him in such a state. This man had preached to thousands, held missions at some of the world's great universities, been a chaplain to the Royal Family, written over 50 books, mentored hundreds of younger clergy, and the New York Times and TIME Magazine held him to be one of the most influential Christians of the Century. But he was now a shaking, emaciated, frail man ready to meet his Savior. Isn't this is how it always is? None of us is immortal. None of us will live one more day than the Lord has assigned. None of us in our flesh is more than a collection of molecules just as prone to decay as everything else in creation.
It was hard to say good-bye as John's life and example meant so much to me. But we believe that there is such a thing as the communion of saints, and he will ever be with us in that holy fellowship. As Hebrews says, he and others now sit in that great aqueduct in the sky, and cheer us on. They have finished their race and they want to make sure we finish ours.
Many letters of commendation have been sent on ahead of him. These letters are the countless believers in all denominations (but especially dear to us are those of his own worldwide Anglican family) who are running the race today thanks to his witness. They, with us, hope for new bodies and a new creation, where decay, discouragement and death will have vanished. That's why among us goodbyes are never sayonara.b They are always au revoir.
The unanswered question when we witness the passing of giants is whom will God anoint to pick up the mantle of leadership they leave behind? In the case of John Stott there is no certainty that such a leader exists. The man who led him to Christ as a schoolboy, Eric Nash, had prayed that God would give him "a ten talent man." God abundantly answered that prayer in the case of John Stott who Nash mentored faithfully in the early years of his Christian walk. But given the challenges of the day it now it is our turn to ask the Lord for some ten-talent men and women. May He raise them up in our generation, and then may we be ready to mentor them.
---Peter Moore is the former Dean and President of Trinity School for Ministry. Today he works at St. Michael's Church, and lives with his wife Sandra in Mt. Pleasant. He is the author of several books, including a new course in discipleship: astepfurtherdiscipleship.com
MY LAST VISIT WITH JOHN STOTT
June 17, 2001
By Peter C. Moore
July 28, 2011
"There was a man sent from God whose name was John"
John the Baptist, to whom the above reference refers, was beheaded by a king in a palace at a relatively young age. John Stott, who from my first meeting in January of 1957 spent his final days on earth in a small bed-sitter in a rest home for retired clergy about 30 miles south of London. He was weak, frail, nearly blind, and bedridden. He had turned 90 this spring, and was expecting to go home to the Lord very soon.
But in his heyday, and for more than a half century, John Stott had an impact on his world akin to that of John the Baptist. Both were sent from God. Both pointed to Jesus. Both attempted to live very simply. Both had few possessions. Both were filled with the Holy Spirit. Both had a group of disciples who drank deeply from their wisdom. Both operated on the fringes of power - political as well as ecclesiastical. Both were men who knew the Scriptures and the power of God.
There the similarities end. The Baptist was a rough-hewn, plain-speaking, abrasive country preacher. John Stott was a highly educated, urbane, son of a titled English doctor, who spoke and wrote in impeccable Oxford English. Moreover John Stott was a diplomat, statesman, apologist, and scholar. Could there be two Johns more different?
Now that we have news that John Stott has left us for greener pastures in heaven, an event that happened on July 27th, I want to share a few reflections with you on my visit to St Barnabas' in Surrey just over a month ago, and a few thoughts about the 40 minutes I had with my mentor, model, and dear friend.
Remarkably he was well enough to see me, as other visitors had been discouraged from coming. His health had been precarious all spring. But a window opened up, and John told his lifetime secretary Frances Whitehead that he would definitely see me.
I fed him coffee through a straw, and sipped from a cup myself. We talked of old times such as the time we had a water pistol fight on Christmas morning at the Rectory in London, and the breakfast we shared a few years back on a terrace overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway in Florida.
We talked about the Anglican Communion and the struggle for Truth that is straining the "bonds of affection" within it. I read him Psalm 34, one of his favorites. I took his hand and prayed, giving thanks for his life, and commending him to our Father. Before I left I said that we would soon see each other in heaven. He agreed. A Philippine assistant came in to feed him his lunch, and I quietly left. I then went outside and wept.
He was embarrassed for me to see him in such a state. This man had preached to thousands, held missions at some of the world's great universities, been a chaplain to the Royal Family, written over 50 books, mentored hundreds of younger clergy, and the New York Times and TIME Magazine held him to be one of the most influential Christians of the Century. But he was now a shaking, emaciated, frail man ready to meet his Savior. Isn't this is how it always is? None of us is immortal. None of us will live one more day than the Lord has assigned. None of us in our flesh is more than a collection of molecules just as prone to decay as everything else in creation.
It was hard to say good-bye as John's life and example meant so much to me. But we believe that there is such a thing as the communion of saints, and he will ever be with us in that holy fellowship. As Hebrews says, he and others now sit in that great aqueduct in the sky, and cheer us on. They have finished their race and they want to make sure we finish ours.
Many letters of commendation have been sent on ahead of him. These letters are the countless believers in all denominations (but especially dear to us are those of his own worldwide Anglican family) who are running the race today thanks to his witness. They, with us, hope for new bodies and a new creation, where decay, discouragement and death will have vanished. That's why among us goodbyes are never sayonara.b They are always au revoir.
The unanswered question when we witness the passing of giants is whom will God anoint to pick up the mantle of leadership they leave behind? In the case of John Stott there is no certainty that such a leader exists. The man who led him to Christ as a schoolboy, Eric Nash, had prayed that God would give him "a ten talent man." God abundantly answered that prayer in the case of John Stott who Nash mentored faithfully in the early years of his Christian walk. But given the challenges of the day it now it is our turn to ask the Lord for some ten-talent men and women. May He raise them up in our generation, and then may we be ready to mentor them.
---Peter Moore is the former Dean and President of Trinity School for Ministry. Today he works at St. Michael's Church, and lives with his wife Sandra in Mt. Pleasant. He is the author of several books, including a new course in discipleship: astepfurtherdiscipleship.com
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