Chronicles in the Life of Peter Blank, Part 7

Episode 7: Peter Changes Religion.
Peter (24 years) had been attending (and wonderfully enjoying) the Anglican Church -- High Church of England -- for most all of his life. He had been a chorister (first a boy soprano and later a tenor/baritone) for 16 years and was involved with youth and men's social groups, the Religious Drama Society, was a Server at the altar, a Sides-man at lesser services and occasionally a Deacon at High Mass. His life revolved around the church with services every day, three and sometimes four times on Sundays and feast days, and he cluttered his busy life with numerous committees, clubs, societies and other involvements in between. But it seemed that one thing lacked.
He knew and could recite his Catechism, the Chorister's Handbook, all 150 metrical psalms, the Mass and other services from the Book of Common Prayer, and the few selections from the Holy Bible which appeared within the pages of the prayer book. Peter measured time by the feasts of the Saints from one Michaelmas to another and apparently lamented a feria (non-feastday) in between. And yet something was missing.
He knew the names of and the reason for each item of vestment the priest wore and the associated prayers relative to the adorning of each garment. But still he felt an unexplained hollowness.
He had familiarised himself with the reason behind each colour chosen to adorn the altar in relation to each feast day -- both major and minor, yet still an emptiness tugged within.
To the ultimate frustration of his Latin master, he probed the ecclesiastical aspect of Latin in almost every language lesson in his upper primary school years. He attended music camps for choirboys and men, took to music lessons with almost unparalleled enthusiasm and delved deeply into an extensive study of church music from Asaph to Plainsong -- from J S Bach to Martin Shaw, and through to the contemporary. He loved his church -- its fellowship, friendship, companionship, mate-ship, and worship. And yet...?
He endeavoured to be the white sheep of his family, with a prayer journal to make a Pope proud, an history of good deeds to outshine every other Boy Scout, and a conceited abstinence from the defilements of swearing, immorality, tobacco and alcohol. However he lacked a certainty of salvation and so, in consequence, he became such a "goody-goody" that he frustrated everybody -- the priest in the confessional, the fast-shrinking circle of companions within his peers, himself for his ever-regular and oft-repeated failings, his rapid-dwindling cluster of adult friends and his parents who sought for an ulterior motive lurking within his behaviour.
Finally, one day, an observant young lady commented on his seeming religious indifference despite a pretence of Christianity. He replied to her that his church going had been filled with busyness, business and emptiness - a strange admix of being absent yet occupied, of being involved, revolved, interested yet bored, held back yet thrust forward, and challenged yet letharged.
To his astonishment he found himself verbalising his uncertainties. She invited him to attend her church some day but he was quick to retort that his Sundays were summarily occupied. Undaunted, she saw this as no obstacle and responded without hesitation that her church meets on Saturday. Assuming she meant that her church ALSO met on Saturday (in addition to Sunday, Monday, etc.) he asked for it's location.
Saturday found him seated in the pew of a strangely familiar and comfortable worship environment. In some mysterious way he didn't notice the absence of a colourfully decorated altar, the absence of ecclesiastical vestments, incense, candles, crucifixes, nor the bells and smells. He did notice the unfamiliar hymns, but as the book-rest on the pew had provided him with a music edition of the hymnal -- with the practiced chorister's skill in "sight-reading" music -- he joined in the hymn singing with gusto (so much so that the organist caught his eye more than once during the service). All too soon the service finished and the organist hurried to greet him and ask the seemingly mandatory, "Where are you from?" To the revealed surprise of the organist, an Anglican church was cited rather than an Adventist one, and to Peter's amazement, the organist replied with an invitation for the wide-eyed visitor to don chorister's robes and join the choir for the Divine Service which was to follow. Such astonishment on both sides allows for no hesitation, and the unfamiliarity of the order of service was laid to rest, as he became absorbed in the singing, the Bible-based preaching and apparent sincerity of the believers.
The shame of what happened next could only be absorbed in the reflective light of the baptism which followed a few weeks later. To the utter frustration of the spouse and daughter waiting in the car, the organist and Peter retired to a side room and spent the entire afternoon seeking biblical answers to a barrage of questions about these strange people who "seem to take this Saturday business very seriously".
Fortunately, the organist's wife saved the day by curving a nose around the corner of the door jam and inviting the absorbed pair to continue their animated conversation in her lounge-room following the refreshment afforded by an evening meal.
The invitation was welcomingly accepted, however temperance at the table was wasted as another form of intemperance eked the postprandile study into the wee small hours of the morning. Finally, in reluctance, with much more to learn, Peter returned home, his head spinning and his heart eager to find out more.
A midweek Bible study group, personal visits by the Pastor, and the blessings of subsequent Sabbaths meant that Peter, as he came to a knowledge of further things biblical, was compelled to make some hard decisions. For many weeks he was quite able to worship on Sabbath in addition to Sunday, was able and willing to pay tithe to two churches, was content to be a Sabbath-day vegetarian, was even prepared to be baptised by immersion -- but to continue to be fully involved in the Church of England with the tuggings of SDA membership at the sleeve of his conscience, he was finally resigned to the fact that he had to choose one or the other. The Anglican Church had the strong lure of security, comfort, predictability, and the music he had grown to love over the years. The Adventist Church offered him the opportunity to be able to learn to get to know, love and share God personally and to worship Him in His way (these two factors (Peter would later realise) summed up the totality of Adventist doctrine).
Peter finally broke his religious bonds with the church of his youth and, although the social ties remain until this day, the lesson for Peter is not finished yet.


-- Lionel Hartley, Not Finished Yet -- Chronicles in the Life of Peter Blank
"This serial saga, although novel, is not a novel. It is merely a series of true-life episodes highlighting the extraordinary working of an extraordinary God in a very ordinary life. Each episode contained a lesson for Peter Blank, a lesson we can all learn, from a lesson-book life that is not finished yet."
As first appeared in FreEzine Magazine July 2000 ff

In God's House

In God's House:
Some go to church to take a walk,
Some go there to laugh and talk.
Some go there to meet their friends,
Some go there their time to spend.
Some through habit go there weekly,
Others go more often, seeking variety.
Some go there to hear the preaching,
Some go there to question the teaching.
Some go there to meet each other,
Some go there a fault to cover.
Some go to church to court a lover,
Others go to chide a brother.
Some go there to strike a bargain,
Some go there to seek for pardon.
Some go there to take their children,
Some go there to escape their children!
Some go there 'cause they feel proud,
Some go there to sing out loud.
Some go there to rest from labour,
Some go just to impress a neighbour.
Some go there to doze and nod,
The wise go there to worship God!

--In part by Spurgeon (expanded by Lionel Hartley 1998)

A juvenile's poem for Mothers Day

Deer mum,
M is for the million things you dun for me
U is for your understanding love
D is for the deeds for what you dayly praise me
D is for the dum things you forgive
E is for ever (thats how long i will love you(
R is for remembring mudders day which I dun two
Put them all to getha they spell MUDDER
(I think thats how its spelled(

Written by Lionel Hartley, aged 9
(Found on a card in his late father's diary of that year. Grammar and spelling as written!)

Chronicles in the Life of Peter Blank, Part 6

Episode 6: Peter's Teeth Change
Peter (c20 years) had set up an hobby business, making 16mm. audition movies for budding actors, actresses and musicians. With cameras and tripods, and numerous items of lighting and sound equipment to be lugged around, he desired to build a custom-made trailer or caravan to make movie-making on location easier. He purchased an old Fordson truck and, with the help of an elder brother, proceeded to convert it into a caravan/workshop. The engine and gearbox were sold to a scrap-metal merchant, and an engineering friend designed an automatic steering mechanism using two motorcycle shock-absorbers to replace the steering wheel. A solid draw bar was fashioned from steel and, although rigid enough to steer the vehicle in motion, hinged up against front of the vehicle when it was not being towed. Unconcerned about the weight of their new creation (Peter had an old two-ton Humber Super-snipe Limousine to tow it) the two brothers set about welding steel panels where the radiator grill used to be, bolting new flooring where the truck driver once sat, and installing an assortment of shelving, cupboards, kitchen equipment and bedding in the body of the van. The creation was finished with several coats of paint before obtaining the mandatory road-worthy registration.
The vehicle proved itself to be practical and Peter reaped considerable benefit from it. However, one memorable Friday it bit back. Almost two ton of van and contents was often difficult to manoeuvre unless it was attached to a vehicle and on this occasion, as they were only a few metres apart, instead of backing the limo to the van, Peter decided to pull the van towards the limo. But the van was measure heavier than puny Peter anticipated. With the dramatic grunt of a circus strongman straining against a football team in a tug-of-war, Peter pulled on the draw-bar with all his (petty) might. The van remained stationary; Peter moved. His feet slid on the roadway and he disappeared under the van.
He would have continued completely out of sight if (fortunately?) the draw-bar hadn't stopped him suddenly! It met him in the teeth and in one stunning milli-second, the heavy steel fist impacted all his front teeth up into his face, pushing his cheeks and nose against his eyes. In piercing agony and blurry vision he cautiously but quickly drove to the local hospital. There he was given injections to dull the pain and halt the bleeding -- and escorted home to await surgery two days later "while the swelling subsides"!
Peter has little recall of those two days, save that they ended on Sunday afternoon in the surgery of his regular dentist. This skillful artisan, with his patient under a general anaesthetic, extracted what remained of Peter's upper teeth and reshaped his face. Using X-rays from a previous dental consultation, he fashioned an upper denture, cleverly reproducing even a chipped front tooth for realism. Peter left the surgery that day with the denture in situ, and his first look in a mirror welled up within him a gratitude to God, for the miraculous restoration. However, the lesson for Peter is not finished yet.
-- Lionel Hartley PhD, "Not Finished Yet"
Chronicles in the Life of Peter Blank
"This serial saga, although novel, is not a novel. It is merely a series of true-life episodes highlighting the extraordinary working of an extraordinary God in a very ordinary life. Each episode contained a lesson for Peter Blank, a lesson we can all learn, from a lesson-book life that is not finished yet."


-- Lionel Hartley, Not Finished Yet -- Chronicles in the Life of Peter Blank
"This serial saga, although novel, is not a novel. It is merely a series of true-life episodes highlighting the extraordinary working of an extraordinary God in a very ordinary life. Each episode contained a lesson for Peter Blank, a lesson we can all learn, from a lesson-book life that is not finished yet."
As first appeared in FreEzine Magazine July 2000 ff

Chronicles in the Life of Peter Blank, Part 5

Episode 5. Peter Goes To Jail
One day, quite unexpectedly, two burly gentlemen from the local constabulary confronted Peter (16 years) at his place of work. It seems that he was being charged with the theft of some equipment from a church in a nearby neighbourhood as someone fitting his physical description had been seen there late at night. The evidence was watertight, he was to be detained overnight and would face the mere formality of a trial the next day. Without the opportunity to seek for support, he was bundled into a police van and driven to a police station at an unknown location. No need for interrogation -- they had all the evidence they needed -- he would now learn first-hand what novels alone had taught him. Fingerprinted, photographed and empty-pocketed, stripped of necktie and shoes -- even the leather buttons were removed from his Harris tweed suit-coat -- before he was lead into a concrete-walled cell scarcely larger than the mattress-covered iron bunk that was cemented to the wall within. Completely devoid of windows, save a tiny grilled opening in the door, the room carried the heavy weight of dank musty air. The room was much taller than it was wide, and high in the centre of the ceiling a solitary light globe behind a wire mesh glared mockingly at the frightened form below. The putrid stale smell of the sweat and urine of previous occupants added a unnecessary melancholy to the already terrifying circumstance. Why a bed was provided was a mystery as sleep was as elusive as the reason for this sudden incarceration. Hope of an exoneration also was evasive as his imagination filled with episodes from the recently read "Foxe's Book of Martyrs". The night passed as slowly as a knee-climb on Pilate's Staircase in a thunderstorm.
Morning was announced, not by the entrance of the sun (as this room had seen none) but by the noisy arrival of a heavily guarded tin plate of some grey lumpy matter. This strange grey mound supported an equally grey spoon, which stood to attention like a solitary tree on a hilltop. One of the guards emitted some profound statement about the grey mound being porridge and that they would wait while he ate it. Peter had no stomach for such generosity despite the fact he had not eaten since the middle of the previous day and simply shook his hands in a gesture to suggest that they guard their valuable porridge somewhere else.
With no tool for measuring time, the eternity was punctured when the door swung wide and a pair of voices called for "Hey You" to follow "NOW!" Along long corridors and then into the back of a van the stocking-footed Peter padded. The drive to the courthouse was immeasurable brief compared with the long lone wait in an anteroom at the courthouse.
Then late in the afternoon, hunger having been and now long since forgotten, unwashed, unshaven, wearing a button-less tweed suit and minus a necktie and footwear, eyes red with too much anxiety and not enough rest -- just when Peter felt in no presentable state to be on trial -- an announcement was made to the effect that it was his turn "in the dock". How could a young man, innocent of the alleged crime, feel so guilty, so criminal, so miserably abandoned? The newspapers had already carried the story of his "crime" yet he knew that not. His employer had told all the staff at the office, and reports with embellishment and exaggeration had filtered through the town, but he knew not that either. He knew only that he felt the humiliation and shame of exposure as if he were on public display naked.
With an unreasonable shame in the eyes, which looked only down, with the smell of furniture polish to the nose and the buzz of unfamiliar jargon to the ears, his bewildering few moments in the courtroom told him nothing.
He was, it seemed, just as quickly jostled into another anteroom, there to wait under the heavy cloud of ignorance and anxiety.
It was there in that half-panelled leather-lounged room that matters took a decided turn when he was finally informed what was happening, what had happened, and what would happen. With overwhelming relief and unbelief, he listened as it was revealed how the real crime perpetrator had confessed and that he would receive, in due course, not only his necktie, coat buttons and shoes, but also an official letter of vindication and apology.
These he did receive, but the scars of incarceration and the unexplained feeling of needless guilt remained and so the lesson for Peter is not finished yet.


-- Lionel Hartley, Not Finished Yet -- Chronicles in the Life of Peter Blank
"This serial saga, although novel, is not a novel. It is merely a series of true-life episodes highlighting the extraordinary working of an extraordinary God in a very ordinary life. Each episode contained a lesson for Peter Blank, a lesson we can all learn, from a lesson-book life that is not finished yet."
As first appeared in FreEzine Magazine July 2000 ff

Preventing Us From Falling Apart

Two Types of Sealing in the New Testament

Eph 1:13  … ye were sealed with that Holy Spirit of promise.

There are two types of sealing mentioned in the New Testament: sealing to make us saints and the final sealing of the saints. In today’s verse, Eph 1:13  ‘… ye were sealed with that Holy Spirit of promise’, the Greek word here is ‘sphragizo’ meaning to stamp (with a signet or private mark) for security or preservation. 

In Ephesians 1:13 and 4:30 and in 2 Corinthians 1:22, this first meaning (Security) is intended. This is written in the past tense

Many years ago I worked for a company with the menial task of tying parcels for posting. Each parcel was sealed with a strip of adhesive tape. The purpose of the tape was to stop the parcel from falling apart. When we are sealed with that Holy Spirit of promise, it helps to prevent us from falling apart!

The second meaning (Preservation) is found in verses such as Revelation 7:3-8 which uses the Greek ‘achri sphragizo’ (A terminal or final sealing)

-- Lionel Hartley, The Blessings of Ephesians One (booklet), Philadelphia Press, 1989

Chronicles in the Life of Peter Blank, Part 4

Episode 4: The Stolen Bell
Eight-year-old Peter befriended a school chum named Buddy. Not that Buddy was really Peter's 'type', but Buddy was teased by everyone else and gravitated toward Peter for friendship and Peter responded. (Maybe it was because Peter was a loner too. Peter regretfully admits that he was also a teaser, so that wasn't the reason!)
Buddy lived in a neighbouring suburb to Peter, and the two often walked home together as far as Peter's place before Buddy continued on to his own. Unlike Peter, Buddy tried to buy friendship by doing daring things. One day, he stole the little brass bell from the counter in a shop a few doors from where he lived. Buddy gave the bell to Peter, without telling him where it came from. However in the district where Peter lived, it seemed that everybody knew everybody-else's business, and it didn't take long for word to spread around the community that the little bell had been stolen from the shop in the next neighbourhood.
Soon Peter found out the bell was stolen and he challenged Buddy about it. Buddy quietly confessed, but was scared to do anything about it. So Peter took the matter into his own hands. He boldly went into the shop and placed the bell on the counter. 'I stole this from you,' he lied, 'and I have come to return it and apologise!' He then turned to hurriedly leave.
The elderly shopkeeper looked at Peter with one eye and demanded, 'When? I've never seen you in my shop before!' This put Peter on the spot as he had no idea when the bell was stolen, but as Buddy had given it to him about three days prior, he lied, 'Three days ago.' The shopkeeper continued to stare at Peter, which made the lad feel most uneasy. He remembered his mother's warning about lying: 'If you tell even the tiniest fib,' she had cautioned, 'it will catch up with you and you will have to keep on lying to cover up and it will then take a whopper to cover it.'  Peter tried to dismiss his mother's portrait in his mind. 'I stole this from you three days ago, and I apologise!' he mendaciously announced a second time.
'You're covering up for someone else, aren't you?' the gentleman demanded. At this Peter broke down and confessed to lying, and tried to leave Buddy out of the story. But the persistence of the shopkeeper pushed Peter further and further into a corner. Finally, Peter named Buddy as the culprit. It was then that Peter felt sick in the stomach. He had betrayed the very one he had sought to protect. And he had lied in the process -- thrice.  This was a hard lesson for Peter and he wondered if lying wasn't worse than stealing. He determined then and there to shy away from dishonest at whatever cost.
His friendship with Buddy somehow survived. Peter never learned what action the shopkeeper took against Buddy but neither forgot the lesson in honesty they learned that day. Reform, however, is a process and for Peter the lessons were to continue...


-- Lionel Hartley, Not Finished Yet -- Chronicles in the Life of Peter Blank
"This serial saga, although novel, is not a novel. It is merely a series of true-life episodes highlighting the extraordinary working of an extraordinary God in a very ordinary life. Each episode contained a lesson for Peter Blank, a lesson we can all learn, from a lesson-book life that is not finished yet."
As first appeared in FreEzine Magazine July 2000 ff