Page 108 - moondani kyema
P. 108
ndani kyema, My Story - Ray Moore 108
Melbourne on a Sunday evening. Here one of the team would drive the MBI truck in
and park it at the kerb just near Russell Street. They would fold down a platform that
was attached to the side of the truck and also fold up a roof piece over the platform to
shelter the team from the rain that might penetrate between the truck and the
protection of the shop verandahs.
Fortunately for me, other people were responsible for the singing and preaching, but I
was expected to give a 'testimony' at some stage. This terrified me. So to prepare
myself for this trial I would go in to the city in the afternoon and make my way to the
banks of the Yarra River where there was always a number of speakers on their soap
boxes letting the world know about their particular obsession. Most of them were
great open air speakers and had developed expertise in the art of repartee. An hour
or two here would psych me up for the task ahead.
We had lots of missionary speakers, Bible study and prayer meetings. At one stage
one of the students, Bob, a nuggety and slightly aggressive ex-army man, came and
asked me if I would join a few of them who were praying 'for the revival of the
students' at MBI. Not only did this seem to me to be a rather judgmental motivation
for a prayer meeting, but I said to him, "No, Bob. I am already attending too many
prayer meetings without adding an extra one." Bob left me with the rejoinder that
they would be adding me to their prayer list.
By the time I received my diploma I had decided that I would apply for the Baptist
ministry in Victoria. Bev and I had discussed missionary work, but she felt that
learning a new language and experiencing an unknown culture were not what she
was called to. I also began to see that my interest in missionary work was due to
hereditary influences rather than the call of God.
So at the end of 1958 I graduated from the college and set about the task of applying
to the Baptist ministry. During this time I was able to earn a bit of money working at
Stebbins and Sons, Farm Suppliers. Russell Stebbins and his father Ivan, were
heavily involved in Christian work and missionary support. I can only say that they
were very understanding of my lack of experience in this kind of work as a storeman.
I was able to buy myself a motor scooter, and also face the formidable tasks which I
had to perform to be accepted into the Baptist ministry. The two most difficult of
these tasks were the trial sermon and the interview with the Candidates Board.
I was accepting invitations to preach during that year and at one of these visits I
found that a couple of the 'heavies' from the Baptist College attended and sat at the
back of the church. It was a Free Presbyterian Church which meant that they stood
up for all the prayers, but sat for the hymns. As they did not believe in having either
flowers or musical instruments in church, the singing was led by a 'presenter' who
wailed through the first two or three lines of the hymn before the rest of the
congregation caught on and joined in. During the service, I had been watching an
elderly dowager with a very severe look on her face and wondering if anything I had
said was acceptable to her. It didn't look like it. But at the end of the service she was
the one person that really said some very encouraging things to me about the
service. I began the hard lesson of learning that I should not jump to conclusions
about anyone by the outward appearance.
Melbourne on a Sunday evening. Here one of the team would drive the MBI truck in
and park it at the kerb just near Russell Street. They would fold down a platform that
was attached to the side of the truck and also fold up a roof piece over the platform to
shelter the team from the rain that might penetrate between the truck and the
protection of the shop verandahs.
Fortunately for me, other people were responsible for the singing and preaching, but I
was expected to give a 'testimony' at some stage. This terrified me. So to prepare
myself for this trial I would go in to the city in the afternoon and make my way to the
banks of the Yarra River where there was always a number of speakers on their soap
boxes letting the world know about their particular obsession. Most of them were
great open air speakers and had developed expertise in the art of repartee. An hour
or two here would psych me up for the task ahead.
We had lots of missionary speakers, Bible study and prayer meetings. At one stage
one of the students, Bob, a nuggety and slightly aggressive ex-army man, came and
asked me if I would join a few of them who were praying 'for the revival of the
students' at MBI. Not only did this seem to me to be a rather judgmental motivation
for a prayer meeting, but I said to him, "No, Bob. I am already attending too many
prayer meetings without adding an extra one." Bob left me with the rejoinder that
they would be adding me to their prayer list.
By the time I received my diploma I had decided that I would apply for the Baptist
ministry in Victoria. Bev and I had discussed missionary work, but she felt that
learning a new language and experiencing an unknown culture were not what she
was called to. I also began to see that my interest in missionary work was due to
hereditary influences rather than the call of God.
So at the end of 1958 I graduated from the college and set about the task of applying
to the Baptist ministry. During this time I was able to earn a bit of money working at
Stebbins and Sons, Farm Suppliers. Russell Stebbins and his father Ivan, were
heavily involved in Christian work and missionary support. I can only say that they
were very understanding of my lack of experience in this kind of work as a storeman.
I was able to buy myself a motor scooter, and also face the formidable tasks which I
had to perform to be accepted into the Baptist ministry. The two most difficult of
these tasks were the trial sermon and the interview with the Candidates Board.
I was accepting invitations to preach during that year and at one of these visits I
found that a couple of the 'heavies' from the Baptist College attended and sat at the
back of the church. It was a Free Presbyterian Church which meant that they stood
up for all the prayers, but sat for the hymns. As they did not believe in having either
flowers or musical instruments in church, the singing was led by a 'presenter' who
wailed through the first two or three lines of the hymn before the rest of the
congregation caught on and joined in. During the service, I had been watching an
elderly dowager with a very severe look on her face and wondering if anything I had
said was acceptable to her. It didn't look like it. But at the end of the service she was
the one person that really said some very encouraging things to me about the
service. I began the hard lesson of learning that I should not jump to conclusions
about anyone by the outward appearance.
