A few days after my return the church had its annual New Year party, and of course I wanted to be there. It was a foggy evening when I set out, and on the ten-minute walk I had to cross a footbridge over a railway line. I could hear footsteps approaching, and out of the fog appeared a young lady of about seventeen. We recognised one another from the church youth group, and walked together to the party, chatting happily and catching up on one another’s news. Her name was Eileen Hood. She was working as a nanny and studying for her NNEB (National Nursery Examination Board), and was intending to become a nurse when she qualified. She was an intelligent girl, and she was also very good-looking. Later, as I became increasingly drawn towards her, I found I had some rivals to see off, but at that time romance was not high on my or her agenda. A friendship developed, however, and we began to see a lot of one another.
Of greater concern to me at that moment was my future, and the tug I felt in my heart to be ordained. I resumed my job with the London Electricity Board, but made no secret of the fact that I did not see my long-term future there. I was moved by the understanding and encouragement of Mr Vincent and other senior staff. They may not have shared my goals or my religious commitment – though some certainly did – but they knew that another kind of career beckoned.
The problem was my lack of academic qualifications, which I felt keenly. It came home to me with a particular shock when a few months after demob I served on a youth camp. Also helping out were a few students from Ridley Hall, Cambridge, one of the Church of England’s theological colleges. One of them, a few years older than me, asked what I was going to do in life. I replied rather hesitantly, ‘I feel the call of ordination.’
I shall never forget the look of incredulity on his face. ‘Forget it!’ he said instantly. ‘You’ll never make it!’
I never did ask him to explain himself. Such a crushing retort momentarily knocked the stuffing out of me. If that was how a fellow young Christian could react to another’s aspirations, what future did I have in the ministry?
A clue to the answer came in a much more encouraging form from the curate at Dagenham Parish Church, Eric Vevers. Mr Vevers was in his thirties, and had been a carpenter before training for the ministry at Oak Hill Theological College. When I told him I wanted to be ordained, he gripped me by the shoulders and said fiercely, ‘Don’t do it, George. Don’t be ordained.’ Seeing my startled response, he continued, ‘You must not even consider the idea of ordination unless you feel in your heart that this alone is what you want to do, and that God is calling you and is confirming it through His Church – otherwise it will be the most terrible of all professions.’
His words struck home, and I had to reflect deeply on what constituted the character of vocation to the ordained ministry. It seemed to consist of three elements. The priesthood had to attract. I could say without any equivocation that it did. There was the intellectual challenge it offered, the centrality of people and community, the joy of speaking of one’s faith – all this and more appealed to me greatly. Then one’s own personal abilities and qualifications came into it. Long before intellectual attainment one must have qualities that are ‘ministerial’ in character. My family and friends were telling me that I got on well with all sorts of people, that I had the ability to communicate, that I possessed the basic knowledge of scripture, that I was eager to learn. Above all I had a passion for Christ and His Kingdom. Lastly, I recognised that no good thing came without some sacrifice. I had to be prepared to accept the cost. The priesthood then – and now, but especially then – was very poorly paid, and vocation entailed accepting this as a precondition of service. I was ready for that too.
Pit-Pat, our vicar, was of great help. In spite of the differences in our understanding, which had deepened since my return, he was a constant encouragement and support. Indeed, in his time as vicar at least six young men sought and eventually received ordination – remarkable for anywhere, let alone a place like Dagenham. He knew of my great desire, but was also well aware that unless I had an opportunity to matriculate to university I had no chance whatsoever. He brought to my attention the work of the Reverend ‘Pa’ Salmon, who lived in Rock House, Woldingham, Surrey. Pa was a rich evangelical clergyman who used his wealth to help disadvantaged young people. To my delight I learned that he would not only provide board for me in his home, but would give me uninterrupted time to study for matriculation, and would provide a tutor. I leapt at the offer, said goodbye to the London Electricity Board and moved to Rock House.
Pa Salmon’s remarkable offer felt like an answer to prayer, and I shall never forget the warmth of his family and the privilege it was to study in his house with six other young men. It was, I suppose, a kind of monastic community as we gathered each day for study, for fellowship, for prayer and for work. We were led by the Reverend John Bickersteth, who kept an eye on us all, guided us in our various studies and, week by week, gave the most insightful Bible studies, drawing imaginatively on the Greek text of the New Testament. John was the ideal person for this kind of ministry. He was just twelve or so years older than most of us, and well able to connect with our aspirations. He gave great personal encouragement to me, and I flowered under his leadership.
I had set myself the goal of studying for three ‘A’ levels and six ‘O’ levels, and my target date was a mere eighteen months ahead. There was a lot to do, and very little time. But I was hungry to learn, and highly motivated. I discovered the joy of studying systematically, reflecting and arguing with texts. The days, weeks and months raced away as my studies deepened. And of course I grew as a person. It is difficult for people who are used to speaking with fluency and ease to understand that others may find social communication simply terrifying. So it was with me – I felt awkward and very aware of my working-class background and speech. However, my confidence developed as I discovered that I could hold my own in argument; that I was as bright as, if not brighter than, some of those I envied for their social ease.
I saw a lot of Eileen, who was also working for exams. We were falling in love although I could not understand what she saw in me. She knew the way my life might turn out, and we discussed whether she really wanted to be the wife of a clergyman. Her immediate future, as she saw it, lay in nursing, which she also regarded in terms of vocation and as a Christian ministry. It was her intention that once we were married she would continue in her profession, as well as giving herself unstintingly to a common life with me serving our Lord. I could not have asked for more.
At last the exams came, and when the results arrived I had passed in all subjects – three A’ levels and six ‘O’ levels in eighteen months. I made sure to thank all those who made it possible – Pit-Pat, Eric Vevers, the church family, and above all Pa and John Bickersteth. At last, I felt, I was really on my way.
Almost at the same time as I sat the exams I was required to attend an Ordination Selection conference, or as people of my generation called it, a CACTM (the Church’s Advisory Council for the Training of Ministry) conference. It was a nerve-racking experience to be one of thirty or so young men grilled by half a dozen experts over a twenty-four-hour period. Two things I especially remember. The first was a group session, designed to allow the Selectors to assess the would-be ordinands’ social and group skills. I enjoyed this a lot, but I was disconcerted by some of the assumptions that prevailed. One that particularly shocked me was a discussion as to whether or not Baptists were actually Christians. If the fact that we were discussing such a question surprised me, still more troubling was the discovery that a significant number of the group actually thought the Baptist tradition was sub-Christian. This made me aware that I was one of just a handful of evangelicals on that Selection conference. At that time evangelicals were few in the leadership of the Church, and as far as I can remember there was not one evangelical among the Selectors. Later the subject of ecclesiology was to become an important element