Mick Gander was such a bloke.
He stumbled into church one Sunday, having been unable to find the church he was looking for.
He shared with me that he was not going to stay, but he had because of what I had preached on.
That Sunday was the first time in my ministry at Bedford that I had really got personal, got blunt, direct, pointed, really let go with my sermon. One of the lines from my message was, “we are meant to come here to worship the Almighty God, but many of you were worried about where your normal seat is”
It was the Sunday after a Saturday wedding, and the pews were rearranged. I never did put them back in their ‘proper’ place, and that was five years ago.
But I digress. Mick stayed around.
He shared with me that his old pastor had told him, ‘you cant sing’. Eliot and myself told him otherwise. When he sang, everyone loved it, and his message resonated with most people in the congregation. The senior ladies loved him, I think he had a blue rinse fan club.
I was a big fan and remember clearly the first time he got up to sing, at a Cafe Church night.
After an initial nervous stumble, he brought the house down.
The curse some stupid blind ignorant JERK had put on him was gone. God is Gracious.
I miss our Tuesday morning coffee and chat about church, I miss seeing Indi, his dog, I miss seeing the white Feroza pulling up in carpark, I miss sharing Thai food with him and John Rodgers.
But most of all I miss having him up the front, taking us to Jesus.