I was unable to attend the farewell to Peter Jensen from Synod back in October. Living in Cambridge made it a little tricky to get there! There is one common thread, however, that has struck me in all the stories I’ve read and heard of Peter since then, stories that accord with all the anecdotes I’ve heard and experienced of him from before he took office. And that is this: while Peter’s public ministry has been very notable, people across the spectrum have been profoundly moved by the way he loved, honoured, and respected them when no one else was looking. Although it may sound paradoxical, Peter is one of those men who, for me at least, is renowned for his hidden deeds of love and service.

We more usually associate secret deeds with those of darkness (Eph 5:11-12). But there is of course another type of deed done in secret: those hidden good works that God has prepared for us to walk in (Matt 6:4, 6, 18; Eph 2:10). Instead of being disconcerted at even the mere mention of such deeds, we are instead overjoyed to hear of them, knowing also that these are exactly the kind of thing Paul meant when he wanted us to dwell on whatever is good and profitable (Phil 4:8-9).

Quietly, unbeknown to anyone, a small group of young adults I know take a mentally handicapped girl at church out to lunch each month. I found out by accident; no one ever told me. But it fills me with joy every time I think about them. What they do will never be ‘strategic’, it will never feature on the church’s ministry plan, nor will it ever be a box to tick as a way to serve at church. And in some ways – as useful as those things might be – to reduce their action to those categories would be to make it less than what it is. They do it because they love this person. Quietly, unassumingly, and compelled by the love of Christ. Their hobbies all tend to the physical and demanding, but they leave it all aside to spend time with this girl each month, encouraging her to persevere in Christ and to know that she belongs to the body of Christ.

Robert Doyle neatly summed this up when he wrote a farewell to the student body at Moore College. He said:

“The evangelical vision for good works is that they are essentially anonymous.  When they do signal their presence, it is often only to the recipient, and they point beyond themselves to the good God we know in Christ.”

These kinds of deeds aren’t afraid to be known, they just don’t care to be known. They are not hidden because their context is the cover of darkness; they are hidden because, like street-lights at noon, their light is swallowed by their context of basking in the light of Christ. And when we hear of such deeds, our own response is spontaneous and heartfelt delight. We cannot help but give thanks to God for the chance to glimpse these treasures hidden, of the glory of the work of the Spirit in people’s lives. It’s a taste – and a great one at that – of the good we will also see on the last day when the deeds of men are revealed by the God who sees all (Heb 4:13). And it will abound to the glory of God in Christ.

In the coming months we will continue to hear a lot about heinous deeds done in secret as the terms of the Royal Commission into allegations of child abuse are set and the inquiry carried through. As our Archbishop indicated when the Commission was announced, we must work and pray to make our society and its institutions safer for those who are vulnerable amongst us. We simply cannot afford to be naïve about what human nature can produce when it has no fear of accountability or judgement. As individuals, as corporately gathered people, and as an institution, we must seek for Christ’s light to expose such deeds.

In the coming months, however, we will also continue to hear a lot about the public offices of Sydney Diocese. In that context – and let us not forget our own lives, our churches, and our ministries! –  we must also remember that there is a different type of hidden deed that the final day will uncover. Are the people we prayerfully consider for office renowned for love when no one is looking? Are we such people ourselves?