Tim Booker, senior minister at St Luke’s Liverpool

It would have been 1958-ish. John Chapman was preaching at my father’s church weekend away. My dad heard that he was saved by faith alone, in Jesus alone, and the penny dropped. He was always a churchgoer, his family were there every Sunday. But that’s when it locked into place. 

My Dad got our family to church every Sunday. We’d pray before dinner and go to church every Sunday. One day – I was about 19 – I’d been in hospital for a back operation after a severe surfing accident. I couldn’t sit. I could only either stand or lie down. I thought I wasn’t going to church for the first time in my life. Dad looked at me an hour before church and said, “You’d better get walking or you’ll miss church”. So I walked and stood up for the whole church service, then walked home. According to Dad, the only reason for not going to church is that you’re dead.

An example in fatherhood

As we grew up, my brother and I did a lot of sports. My dad would say, “Keep a boy happy and busy and he doesn’t have time to get into trouble”. He was at most of our sports things. He was the manager, and he was the guy who drove around and picked kids up. Both my brother and I, as dads, we’re the dads loading the cars up with other kids and managing teams. We followed his lead there. 

I noticed that as we grew, Dad deliberately tried to let us work stuff out rather than tell us what to do. He never exasperated us, therefore on the odd occasion when he’d give us correction, we knew to take it seriously and not fob it off. He worked hard at loving us, so we knew he loved us and was wise.

"All the little things Dad did for me, I now do for my sons. "

For the first year of my marriage, Dad helped me maintain the lawns because when you’re newly married, you’ve (apparently) got no idea. To this day, I mow the lawns and do the yards with my son in his house. All the little things Dad did for me, I now do for my sons. 

Dad would look for opportunities to catch up with us. I worked in the insurance industry for eight years. At each workplace, Dad would come in once and have lunch with me and meet the boss. He continued to take an interest in everything we did. I’ve done this with my sons. 

He joined the fire brigade at 29. At his retirement dinner from the firies, his speech was full of stories. The guys loved him and loved working for him at the fire station. He maintained his Christianness there, which was impressive. One of the guys at the retirement party talked about how they would all watch porn at the station, saying, “One night we tried to force Phil to watch it, but 10 of us couldn’t pin him down and hold his eyes open”. They respected his faith. The firefighters loved him, he’d put their needs first and had a great work ethic. 

An example in retirement

When I started as a senior minister, Dad had just retired. I took him out to Guildford to show him around. At the end of the tour he said, "That building is rubbish — but I'm going to fix it."

It took about 10 years. He caught a train from Heathcote to Guildford, 1½ hours door to door, and slowly renovated the whole building. People noticed straight away and it picked up morale. 

While he was doing this, he was talking to everyone in Guildford. He caught the train, had a coffee and chatted to everyone. He spent the day renovating the church, stopped for a milkshake on the way home and chatted to everyone. There’s a preschool on the corner of the church, and he chatted to everyone. When we’d go for lunch, he’d be introducing me to people in Guildford. 

He showed people how to retire. Don’t go buying a caravan and driving around the country collecting shells. He spent the first 10 years of his retired life rebuilding, renovating and growing a church. He’s a great evangelist, and great at building God’s people up. If more people did that, the Diocese would be a different place.

"He spent the first 10 years of his retired life rebuilding, renovating and growing a church."

An example in dying

He got to church one day, walked up after his coffee and he was puffed. That was unusual. He thought it must be the flu, or he’s just feeling run down. He was back the next day, not better. Eventually, after saying, “She’ll be right” for a while, he went to the doctor. It took a while to diagnose, but he had mesothelioma, an aggressive form of cancer. There were about two years from diagnosis to death.

But even in hospital, in palliative care, he has a really servant heart. He falls out of his bed one night, and he knows it’s skeleton staff. He thinks, “I’ll just sleep here, I don’t want to bother anyone”. He waits on the floor until he hears footsteps, and then calls out, “Sorry to bother you!” 

My cousin died a few months before Dad. This cousin would disappear for years. Dad and Mum tracked him down to a little hospital in country Queensland, because Dad wanted to tell him about Jesus.

Dad says, “I missed you mate”.

My cousin says, “I’m going to die”.

Dad says, “I am too. I want you to know how to get to heaven. Do you know how to get there?”

Dad tells him about Jesus, how Jesus can forgive all sins. Dad prays the prayer with him, and my cousin is dead within a week. 

That’s how to retire and how to die. 

An example in life

Dad would have said, “This is just a simple, faithful life.” He had a God-given humility. He never wanted people to look at him. His funeral was fantastic: a wonderful testimony to his love for Jesus and what made him who he was. 

He never doubted God is truth or that Jesus is the one to follow. He must have had doubts, but I never saw them. He did the Christian life day after day after day –  simple perseverance to the end. Now at my age, 55, that’s particularly powerful. He would have gone through the same stuff, retiring, thinking about the future, broader family… Life gets complicated when you’re older. 

Dad didn’t change. He kept smiling and loving people. You could see real perseverance and toughness. It takes toughness to persevere and not allow the storms to knock you off course.