A LONG OBEDIENCE

The simple facts of Nicky Gumbel's 'long obedience in the same direction' are remarkable:
* 48 years following Jesus since turning from atheism to Christianity at Cambridge university in 1974.
* 44 years married to Pippa raising two sons, a daughter, and a throng of grandchildren.
* 36 years in ministry at one single church, 19 of them as its curate (associate pastor) and then as its vicar since 2005, growing HTB into one of the most influential churches in the UK and helping to plant a network of new and revived churches around the nation.
* 32 years quietly running his own Alpha small group every week, whilst turning the course into a global resource that has introduced literally millions to Jesus, and has also become a major catalyst for Christian unity.
* 30+ years reading the scriptures daily, working through the entire Bible every year, making personal notes as he did so until eventually these reflections became a daily email in 2009 which has gone on to become one of the most downloaded devotionals in the world.
These numbers speak of faithfulness over decades and fruitfulness in the millions. But let me add a smaller, more personal and private note.

SELLING OUT

For seven years I served as part of Nicky and Pippa's senior leadership team. We would meet for hours every week mostly in their living room. We laughed a lot, wept occasionally, talked and prayed. It was one of the steepest learning curves and greatest privileges of my life.

When I agreed to become the Director of Prayer for Alpha and HTB (alongside my role leading the 24-7 movement) a few people got angry, accusing me of selling out to a dying institution and a reductionist gospel and a bunch of posh people in South Ken. These people meant well but they could not have been more wrong.
In Nicky and Pippa's team I found myself surrounded by leaders whose minds were sharper and hearts were softer than my own. I was amazed to discover that they spoke kindly behind the backs of others. And they were startlingly ambitious in all the right ways, but refreshingly self-effacing too.

I could see the imperfections, of course, and they certainly saw mine but I guess that was ok. And although they never made me want to become an Anglican they often made me want to become a Christian.

SPURNING THE ARCHBISHOP

Every Tuesday morning I would lead a prayer meeting for HTB at 7am. It was not a large gathering - mostly people in suits on their way to work and well-heeled retirees - but these were the quiet saints of the church . It was one of the least glamorous, lowest profile meetings we did and two of its most faithful members were the Gumbels. Some of the busiest people I know they were never there to lead, only always to pray. It would have been easy and so understandable if they'd ever said 'Look Pete, we're with you in spirit but awfully busy,' or 'Do you mind if we pray with you from home?' or 'I'm afraid we have a meeting with the archbishop of Bolivia' or 'Unfortunately the Bible in One Year is keeping us occupied before breakfast on Tuesdays and a million people are awaiting our thoughts.'
But instead they were there without fail, quietly praying for the church, for alpha, for the nation before slipping away out the side door to apologise to the archbishop of Bolivia.

When we started the 24-7 Prayer Room at HTB, Nicky consistently booked one or two hours in that place alone with his Lord. And he'd rather I hadn't told you that.

THE YEAR I DIDN'T DIE

One Christmas I got stuck in terrible traffic near Stamford Bridge on my way to the first of two packed carol services at HTB. Every year Nicky would do the first short message and I would do the second. It was the only time we ever used the pulpit. Candles everywhere. Full choir and orchestra packing the chancel. Rich and famous sharing service sheets with ex-cons. Lovely.

So this particular year I got stuck in the gridlock of a home game at Chelsea and by the time I realised I wasn't going to make it to the service everyone's phones were off. No one noticed I wasn't there until it was too late.

The orchestra went quiet. The congregation was seated. Everyone was focused on the pulpit, checking the order of service, but no one popped up to preach. There was a long silence. Awkward coughs. Eventually Nicky laughed nervously, apologised profusely that the preacher had apparently gone AWOL and announced The First Noel.

When eventually I arrived, I was fraught, apoplectic, expecting to be fired. The carol service is the biggest event of the year. It's no small thing to preach. I'd messed up badly and publicly.

But the minute Nicky saw me his immediate, unprocessed reaction was surprising to say the least: a colossal sigh of relief: "Pete," he cried, "You're not dead!"

The only reason he'd been able to imagine for missing the HTB carol service was premature death. He'd been grieving all the way through The First Noel. And so, instead of telling me off, Nicky and Pips immediately ushered me away to the vicarage, utterly delighted, for a roast chicken supper before the reprise. You want to know what holiness looks like? That's it right there.

WELL DONE

Nicky will hate all this adulation. And he'll be keen to point out that he is only retiring from HTB and will be continuing his role with Alpha where he has the most incredible plans. World watch out!

But as he steps out of the church building tomorrow in which he has worshipped since 1974, and in which he was married in 1978, and in which he became a curate in 1986, and in which he was confronted with the prospect of my premature demise at a carol service in 2008, this is undoubtedly a moment when we may imagine that great cloud of witnesses applauding and picture the Father smiling as he says:

"Well done my good and faithful servant..." (Matthew 25:23)