Geoff Thomas, London

My Mother and My Debt

My mother, Bess, was one of four children, one of whom had learning difficulties; they lived in a little terrace house in Merthyr Tydfil. Her father worked as a ganger for the railroad and her Uncle Oliver was converted in the 1904 Welsh Revival, for the rest of his life was an evangelist. Uncle Oliver carried a text around the town and he preached in the open air on Saturday nights; He could never resist the opportunity presented to him when he was with a crowd of people to talk to them all about the Lord Jesus Christ. If it were a day trip to the seaside, he would get up, leave his children making sandcastles and talk to the people sitting on the beach; “Isn’t this a lovely day, ladies and gentlemen? And do you know that it was God who made this world and he sent his own dear son, Jesus Christ, to be the Saviour of all who put their trust in him…” If his brother-in-law, a farmer, was hosting a family gathering then the men would go for a walk on the mountain in the afternoon and the women would make the farmhouse supper. It would not be long before Uncle Oliver spoke to the men, “Let us have a word of prayer to thank God for his glory and goodness to us.” And he would take the same evangelistic initiative if he were speaking to one person, for example to my cousin: “Look, Bobi, at this patch of ground, at the flowers and clover and grasses, here and here and here. Let us thank God for his presence with us.” My cousin told me how powerful it was. The Lord used Uncle Oliver powerfully in my mother’s conversion.

On Fridays, Uncle Oliver led some youth meetings; writing songs and teaching them to the twenty children who attended. My mother was a young teenager at the time, during the First World War, and she attended every Friday. It was at some time during those years, that she ‘gave her heart’ to Jesus Christ quite artlessly, and then simply followed him all her life.

My mother was betrayed by the liberals who occupied the pulpit in the Baptist church she attended, but lacked any discernment to pass judgement on them. She simply went to gospel meetings, anniversary services, and conventions and listened intently to the messages. But, in 1929, Dr Martyn Lloyd-Jones came to speak in her town and she heard him. When I went to hear him thirty years later, she recalled to me some of the things he had said that she had never forgotten: “See the opposition to the gospel here in the New Testament and the muddles people made of their lives then. It is just the same today. Man does not change, and neither does the gospel.” When I would hear him, he would still be saying the same.

I went with her to the Baptist Chapel, and she gave me an imperial mint to suck after the third hymn. We moved to Hengoed, a church which had its origins in the conversion of a number of people at Mount Pleasant, Maesycwmmer. Their evangelistic earnestness was not there appreciated and they moved across the valley to Hengoed and planted this church. The older members had a stirring testimony and there my mother and I worshipped. One Sunday night in March 1954 I was given assurance as I heard the Word of God that the atonement of Christ covered my guilt and through him God accepted me, and then I was baptised.

My mother always sang the old hymns under her breath, quite unconscious that she was doing so, throughout her life. “How sweet the name of Jesus sounds,” “Jesus the very thought of Thee,” “Crown him with many crowns,” and so on. One day, a close friend, Brian, said to me, “Your mother is remarkable isn’t she?” “Yeah…” I said cautiously, looking for some explanation to his remark. He said, “The way she sings hymns all the time.” I thought, “His mother doesn’t sing hymns!?” I thought every mother sang hymns!

I was my mother’s pastor for the last twenty years of her life. My debt to her is enormous. I long to see her again in heaven. I sometimes think I want to see her more than the Lord Christ; But no, the Lord first and then his bride. I just want to thank her for what she did for me. I never showed her the gratitude that I should have. But she will not know what I am talking about, “When did I help you like that?” she will say, and I will have time to explain.

So, what verses would I find convicting and precious on my desert island?

Her children rise up and call her blessed. Proverbs 31:28

A woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised. Proverbs 31:30

Jesus went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was subject to them. Luke 2:51