We were involved in yet another conversation about the imperfections of the local church. And imperfect they all are. But some folk seem to live under the illusion that the local congregation they belong to will cater to their crises, meet their needs, satisfy their longing for wonderful encounters with God and provide the best teaching possible, and do all this without requiring them to contribute a whole lot of their emotional, spiritual or financial resources in return. If you ever find the perfect church, as the saying goes, you’ll ruin it as soon as you join.
We were sitting on the sidewalk outside a cafe in London enjoying the warm sunshine and a coffee when a large crowd appeared marching down the street. It turned out to be a Good Friday procession. It was encouraging to see such a large group of believers expressing their faith. After they passed, I began to listen in on an interesting conversation taking place behind me.
To paraphrase Benjamin Franklin, the only things you can be certain of are life, death and taxes. If that’s the case, this week proved to me he was right. Last Saturday, I led the funeral service for my mother, who went home to be with the Lord in March. It was a wonderful time, shared with family and more friends than we expected. Mum had longed to be with the Lord and with my Dad, and at 98 she had indeed the run the race and done it faithfully.
As we approach Easter, let me tell you a story which may shock, amaze,
confound or inspire you. Over twenty-five years ago, I met a remarkable
man called John Babu. I later spoke at his church and taught at his Bible
College, and we became good friends. John was a senior security advisor to
Indira Gandhi, the Prime Minister of India.
