Not many fathers…

A slightly expanded version of my tribute at Brian’s Thanksgiving service on 20th October

‘Thank heavens ‘, thought I, ‘that I don’t have THAT guy for a home group leader!’

It was the mid-eighties, and my workmate was telling me how he’d discussed a complex situation with his small group leader at church in Dewsbury. The leader’s simplistic comment was, ‘Come on Jason, admit it – sin’s sin!’ No nuances.

Roll forward 20 years. In 2004, Jane and I joined New Horizons church, a relatively new fellowship in Dewsbury. I became part of a men’s small group. Guess who my leader was! Jane’s group was led by his wife, Pam.

Brian and Pam Miller were 4 years older than us, but clearly had a wealth of experience in Christian ministry, coupled with an exciting testimony. Together, they’d created a local version of ‘Pre-Encounter’, an introduction to the Christian faith. Surprise, surprise – it contained a wholehearted, full-blooded session on SIN! But as I came to know Brian, I didn’t feel judged; I felt a hole being filled in my life.

My father hadn’t been a believer, but he knew me. In my late thirties, I’d suffered from chest pains. Whilst some friends recommended vitamin pills, Dad looked at me and said, “John, you need to run!” He was right. Running released the tension I’d built up due to work and family pressures. But in 1993 he died, leaving me without the benefit of his wisdom..

Like Dad, Brian understood me, but not just as a man. He fathered me ‘in the faith’ in a way that’s unusual and precious. St Paul (1 Corinthians 4 vs 15) said,

“For though you have countless guides in Christ, you do not have many fathers. For I became your father in Christ Jesus through the gospel.”

Brian stood no nonsense. But my first impressions proved wrong. His life was deeply grounded in Scripture, yet he never made trite judgements nor gave pat answers. He provided an excellent sounding board whenever I’d a life-changing decision to make, e.g., over moving house. He had a gentle side, visiting his friends without delay whenever an emergency landed them in hospital. He treated us just as St Paul describes in 1 Thessalonians 2 vs 11-12:

For you know that we dealt with each of you as a father deals with his own children, encouraging, comforting and urging you to live lives worthy of God, who calls you into his kingdom and glory.

He didn’t say ‘well done’ unless he really meant it, but his encouragement meant a great deal. He challenged me, for example, not just to share my faith but to seek to make disciples. He was a ‘man’s man’, urging us, his band of brothers, to discover our distinctive identity as Christian men. Men who show the strength and boldness of Jesus Christ combined with his compassion.

Our small group meetings often took the form of a snooker/pool evening. Brian always welcomed the friends I invited, and made them feel at home. At first, Brian wasn’t an expert. Then, unexpectedly, he began to improve, and purchased his own cues! Why? He’d joined the head office staff at Christians Against Poverty, where he spent many a lunchtime honing his skills on their snooker table. And, oh boy – he could be competitive!

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You can’t talk about Brian without understanding him as part of Brian and Pam. We had never before heard such an extraordinary story of redemption as Pam’s. As a broken young teenager, Pam landed in hospital with life-threatening injuries. Brian, who was the same age, visited her in the ward and prophesied over her. He and she modelled a marriage built on faith, supportiveness and caring. I have no doubt that many stories of Brian’s faithfulness as a husband will be told in the days to come, by those closer to him than I.

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MND is known to be a death sentence. My heart, as did many others’, sank when I heard Brian’s diagnosis. I joined a group of us who’d been part of New Horizons, now known as Vision Church, in praying for him and Pam. We met three times at their home to lay hands on them, and were trying to arrange our next date when the news came that Brian had passed away.

He faced his illness throughout with faith, courage and humour. Pam told us about the way he’d lightened the mood at the self-help group they attended, with amusing anecdotes about his struggles to carry out the basic tasks of daily living. Right up to the end, he and Pam had laughed together, been to church together, faced life together.

We’re disappointed that Brian, who over the years had prayed for so many to be healed, wasn’t healed himself. But we can see God’s hand of grace in so much of what’s happened. He won’t need his wheelchair, modified bed and bathroom, or the future delights of using a feeding tube and voice box, not now. Rather, he’ll be enjoying Jesus’ royal welcome. Soon, he’ll be busy once again doing the work of God’s kingdom, this time in his resurrection body, able to shout and sing praises at the top of his voice.

Sin will no longer be sin – it’ll be no more. But somehow I think Brian will always be seen as Dad.