Giving Thanks

Today is All Saints Day, observed for centuries as a day to give thanks and remember those who have gone before us. I was reminded of this by a post by Pete Grieg (https://www.facebook.com/pete.greig.1) this morning remembering Jimmy Cox (strangely enough, but no relation) who was instrumental in his father coming to a vibrant Christian faith. And the impact that Jimmy had on his whole family, through multiple generations.

It got me thinking about the man who has had probably the greatest impact on my life. I know I’ve mentioned him before. So it seems appropriate to give thanks again for a humble man that most people have never heard of – which is the definition of the vast majority of saints. It has nothing to do with who the Pope confers sainthood upon….. that’s a religious tradition that I’m not sure reflects God’s values too much. Anyway, I digress.

Vic Pearce is the man of whom I speak. He was a short wizened face fellow who had spent much of his life working for De Beers Consolidated Mines in Human Resources. He fought in the battle of El Alamein and was a devout Christian who never married. Vic retired early because he said he wanted to work among young men at university and share his faith. He looked so harmless, and yet he was courageous and relentless in his mission to touch lives.

He rose early every morning and had a Quiet Time, spending time reading his Bible and praying. Then he would go for a jog through the university residences in Cape Town. If he knew it was your birthday he would knock on your door, wake you up, and wish you a happy birthday and say a simple prayer of thanks for you. It didn’t matter if you believed in God or not, Vic just loved you where you were and believed the best.

I met Vic when I was first attending University, in a lineup for a welcome dinner for the Student Christian Association. We got talking and he insisted on sharing the meal with me, writing down my name and contact info, and then being on his way. Little did I know that he was a man who followed up, kept his promises, and was true to his word.

Over the next years from time to time I would receive a note in the mail (long before internet) along these lines: Dear John, I was thinking of you during my Quiet Time this morning and thanking God for you. You have wonderful gifts and I want to encourage you to pursue them etc. Your friend, Vic.

Vic would call me as well and invite me to meet for lunch, or breakfast, in order to catch up and make sure I was doing alright. Never in my life had anyone shown such concern or interest. I was an awkward and unconventional student who didn’t have much of a clue about where I was going or what to do with my life. Vic was always assuring me and encouraging me, even when I failed and dropped out for a few years. He never gave up on me. Some years later when I had been accepted to pursue theological studies he turned up one morning. “John, I’m thrilled that you are wanting to prepare for ministry. I think you should study overseas and I’d like to offer to pay your airfare.”

I was also thrilled and couldn’t believe his generosity. It began the process of my pulling on the thread of possibility that eventually led to spending three years studying at Oxford. It would never have happened without Vic’s initiative.

Vic crossed all denominational boundaries and was often in attendance at a wide variety of Christian student gatherings, weekends away, and special occasions. Sometimes he was the guest speaker and always delivered a talk that was down to earth, encouraging, and inviting us to experience the love of Jesus. I had grown up attending a school where every morning chapel was conducted by robed priests and books following a formal Anglican liturgy. God appeared very distant, strict, and far removed from my young earthly existence.

It was Vic, and other men who spoke at our youth group, that opened my eyes to a far more relaxed, personal, and friendlier understanding of God. They dressed in everyday clothes and spoke normally, without using a book to read the same words every day. They talked about Jesus and what he said, how he lived, and the impact he had on lives when he walked this earth, and most significantly, on their lives in the present day. They were businessmen, sportsmen, teachers, youth group leaders, and always in the background, Vic.

Vic rented a room in a woman’s house (we used to tease him about getting married to her) and it was spartan, devoid of luxury. I think it was how he lived without even being aware. He poured his life into hundreds of young men over the years, asking for nothing in return. He probably had no idea how much he impacted my life and blessed me in those formative years. To be honest, fifty years later, I have yearned for more of those types of male mentors and found very few indeed. I don’t believe we’re ever too old; mentors need mentors, need mentors, need mentors.

Vic understood and modelled something absolutely fundamental and key to Christianity and how faith is shared. I used to think that if I pursued education it would make a difference. I have always been an advocate of lifelong learning, acquiring degrees and qualifications in the belief that it would make a difference. It was not a bad thing to do, but I wouldn’t do it again. Information gathering is essential for most things in life, except when much is offered too soon and people are either overwhelmed or lose interest. It’s like studying a sport in a lecture theatre but never getting onto the field to play. Vic intuitively knew this, as did Jesus.

If we want to teach someone something, become a friend and offer an experience. The first disciples were befriended by Jesus, they conversed with him and watched him live life and love others. They had never met anyone like him. They had no clue about him being the Son of God, what his life meant at the time, or how ignorant they even were about God. But over time their hearts began to beat, their eyes and ears were opened, and their mind formulated questions they would never have thought to ask before. Jesus and Vic created safe places of friendship where others could blossom, experience, learn, and grow.

Now that I think about it, Vic showed me everyday Christian life and love in the form of friendship, faith, and even finances. He wasn’t a prefect man, which actually made him even more appealing. He inspired me, believed in me when I certainly didn’t believe in myself, and he provided for me financially so that a door could swing open that I never imagined was possible.

Many years later, I’m remembering Vic and honoring him again as a saint and a gift in my life. I’m his age now, and when I finally grow up I want to be like him.