My first experience
of God's call
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I gave my life to the Lord at the age of seven, and grew up with the concept of calling. We often had missionaries staying at home, and I very quickly developed a positive view of missionaries because so many of them were really fun people to be with.
We frequently had missionaries preaching in our church – often from the South African General Mission (SAGM). Even as a child I enjoyed listening to them. One of my great heroes was Ron Filby who worked in Angola. I loved listening to his stories – especially when they involved lions and elephants. He told us of the night when he was camping in a tent and woke up to discover he was surrounded by elephants. Thinking that it would be a good idea to fire a gun into the air to frighten them away, he turned to reach for his gun. In the dark, he stumbled into the little camping table full of tin
Childhood
plates and cups. The clatter was terrific, and he thought the elephants would now be sure to stampede and crush him under their feet. But to his amazement, when he looked out through the flap of the tent, the elephants were all gone. Later, a hunter told him that the worst thing he could have done would have been to fire his gun – the elephants would then almost certainly have stampeded. But, the hunter said, clattering the tin plates was probably the best thing he could have done. I was so impressed at how God had protected him.
Partly because of my hero-worship for Ron Filby, I developed a desire to be a missionary doctor in Angola.
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Rev Wilfred Green, the General Director of SAGM, frequently came to preach. He was a gentle old man with snow white hair and the biggest nose I had ever seen. I loved listening to him. One Sunday, probably when I was about 12, he preached about listening for God’s call on our life, whether we are to become full-time missionaries or not. At the end of the service, I went up to him and told him of my ambition to be a missionary doctor in Angola. He was very kind and encouraging. And then he held up his forefinger in front of me (it was almost as big as his nose!) He said that through the next years, I should hold the call of God in front of me like his finger, and see what happened. I might find that God did indeed call me to be a doctor in Angola, or he might call me to something else. The important thing was always to be listening for God’s call. That made a huge impression on me, and to a lesser or greater extent I have followed his advice all my life.
As I approached the end of high school, I seemed to have forgotten about being a missionary doctor. One day, in matric, representatives from Johannesburg College of Education (teacher training college) came to our school and invited students interested in teaching to come for an interview. So I went. I remember that they asked me why I wanted to be a teacher, and I replied, much to their amusement, “To get my own back.” But I filled in no forms, and finished my matric.The following January, a friend and I were lolling around wondering what we should do with our lives. He then said, “Why don’t we become teachers?”
I said, “Okay,” and off we went, there and then, to enroll at JCE. How easy it was for us white people in those days – by the end of the afternoon I was enrolled, with a fully paid bursary for a three-year degree plus a year of teacher training. The only condition was that I would have to work for the
As Ferdinand in The Tempest
– last year of school
Adolescence and Early career
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Transvaal Education Department for three years afterwards. Not only that, but because I was taking up teaching, I was exempt from army service. Many of my friends had to do two years in the army and became involved in fighting in Angola. I avoided all that.
It is really strange, thinking back, how lightly I took this decision. I don’t remember even once praying about it. I suppose it shows how easily we can slip away from the zeal of our childhood.
And so I went to Wits University for three years and earned a BA degree in English and Biblical Studies, and then for a year to JCE for my Teacher’s Diploma. At the beginning of each year we went to a school somewhere for three weeks of “Teaching Prac.” During this time I never had discipline problems, and thought I was a natural teacher. But late in the fourth year, we did our final “Teaching Prac” which lasted for six weeks.
I was assigned to Sandringham High School, where I had already secured a post for the following year. This was the real thing. One Tuesday afternoon, I was teaching a class of standard seven girls. I have since learned that there is no more difficult creature in the world than a standard seven girl. That afternoon, while I was trying to teach, the girls started humming. It was impossible to pin down where the humming was coming from. If I went to one side of the room they hummed on the other. They had me completely up a gum tree.
I went home that afternoon seriously shaken. This was the school where I was going to be teaching the next year, and suddenly I had discipline problems. It dawned on me that afternoon that I had never actually asked God what he wanted me to do. What if I was not the natural teacher I had thought I was? What if teaching was not actually God’s will for my life? What if I couldn’t cope? What if I had made a mistake? That night, I opened my Bible for my quiet time.
For years I had been using Scripture Union Daily Bread reading notes. That night my Scripture reading was from John 15:16 – “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last.” It was like a personal telegram from God. He knew that I had not asked him what I should do, but he had still made sure I did the right thing. I went back to school the next day considerably strengthened, and actually had a lesson with those girls that went fine.
The following year I started teaching at Sandringham High School.
Coach of the second Cricket XI
On the first day of term, I discovered a little to my horror that I was to teach Religious Instruction to the same class of girls. If you’re going to have discipline problems, it will be in Religious Instruction rather than in English (my other teaching subject.) One day I was teaching those girls, again last thing on a Tuesday, and they again
gave me a very hard time. I again went back home seriously shaken. The same doubts and fears came on me likea ton of bricks. Have I made a mistake? Can I cope? That night I went back to my Scripture Union notes. It is the habit of the Scripture Union to take you through the New Testament twice and the Old Testament once every five years. Had I still been reading Daily Bread, there would have been no chance that the reading would have been in John 15. But for the start of my career, I had graduated to Daily Notes – slightly more advanced. And, incredibly, my reading that night was John 15:16 – “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last.” Again, it was like a personal letter from God. The next morning I took the plunge and told the girls the whole story. It turned a corner for us, and the next three years with them were very happy. I was still friends with some of them 30 years later.
During the first three years in teaching I was very involved in running the Students’ Christian Association in the school, and also did quite a lot for Scripture Union running children’s missions and leadership camps. At the end of my third year in teaching, Scripture Union invited me to join them for five years as the full-time worker with SCA groups in high schools in the Transvaal.
The headmaster was not at all keen for me to accept that post, because he felt I had a real future in teaching. I was really not sure what to do. By then I was in a relationship with Wendy Walsh – not yet engaged, but serious. We agreed not to meet for a whole week during which time we would each seek the Lord’s will about this decision. Then we would meet and compare notes. On the last night of that week, I still did not know what to decide. My dad came into my bedroom and we talked for a long time. Although he had been very involved in missions, he had no starry-eyed illusions about it. Eventually, as he was about to leave the room, he turned and said, “I really don’t know what else to say to you, but I feel constrained to give you a verse from Scripture.” And then he proceeded to quote John 15:16 - “You did not choose me…”
On the strength of that, I went to Wendy the next day and said that I thought the answer was “yes”. She had come to the same conclusion, and so we began our years in Scripture Union.
Ever since that day, whatever’s happened – and there have been some difficult times in my career – I have maintained a solid conviction that God has a calling on my life, and that unless I am actively disobedient, he will make sure that I’m in the right place.