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Tom Taylor writes about...

When my call to preach really came it was more like an outright command than an invitation. It was issued by a veteran Local Preacher in the local church at the conclusion of a series of what was loosely called 'theological classes'. Little did I realise, as I attended this small group meeting week by week, that the end product would be the formation of a Mission Band.

Without any warning, at the end of one of our sessions, he announced that he had consulted the Superintendent Minister of the Circuit about making a Mission Band out of the 'theological class', and that consent had been given. He told us that a date had been arranged. Then, addressing me personally, "and you will preach the sermon".

Six years previously on 26th January, 1945, I had been abandoned as a fatal war-casualty and lay unconscious and unattended on the battlefield in Burma for seven days with a severe gunshot wound. A sniper's bullet had passed through my head close to the sensory area of the brain, resulting in the loss of some of my faculties and rendering me permanently blind. Now, with my faculties impaired and my physical capabilities greatly reduced, I had to respond to this challenge of preaching the Word of God.

Answering the call was something I was well acquainted with due to my army service, when the penalty for disobedience could have serious consequences. The bugle-call itself was sufficient authority to summon an immediate response. I had played soldiers as a youngster and I have often been reminded that preaching from a pair of step-ladders sometimes formed part of my child's play. I had been tested as a soldier on active service - the question now, was, "What would I be like as a preacher on active service?" I was subjecting myself at this point to a discipline equally as demanding and rigorous as that expected from the military authorities.

This was not the first response I had made to a nudge from God. Earlier there had been a call to follow, just like the first disciples. This took place in a small bamboo hut which served as the camp church on the edge of a 14th Army reinforcement camp in Commilla, in what is now Bangladesh. This was simply an impulse to kneel in acknowledgement of God's presence during an ordinary evening service as a hymn was being sung.

My Mission Band effort was succeeded by a 'Note to Preach' from the 'Super' and the normal routine training and examinations before becoming Fully Accredited.

With my response came a greater awareness of the responsibility incumbent upon all preachers of the Gospel. It is true that every believer has his own distinctive part to play in God's Kingdom and in this regard there is no special virtue in becoming a Local Preacher, except that the onus is more compelling, once given the authority of the Church to preach.

Nearly fifty years have passed since my diffident inquiry about joining those Theological Classes in Leyland Methodist Church. I have prepared many sermons and travelled many miles near and far, to deliver them. Nevertheless, I feel that I have not yet completed my task and I trust that I will be given the grace to recognise and acknowledge my 'sell by date' when it comes.

Until then, however imperfect my contribution to the preaching ministry has been, I realise that the privilege of serving has greatly outweighed the expended toil and effort and been more rewarding and enriching than I could have imagined when I uttered my first hesitant words as a preacher. The generous help and hospitality I have been afforded and the saints I have been privileged to meet in shared fellowship, have made the call of duty for me a continual innervating adventure.