You don’t know Fingland Dent, likely because you never met the humble, unassuming pastor of a small church in Brockley Close, Reading. But I did and this past weekend I thought about him a great deal. I was working through a sermon on Isaiah 7, that well-known yet rarely understood passage on Emmanuel. As I laboured through the commentaries and study tools I remembered a conversation I had with Fingland nearly 20 years ago on the same passage.
It was a Wednesday afternoon and we were thinking through the Christmas sermon series in 2005. We went through the classic Isaiah passages of chapters 7, 9 and 11 and I was struggling to get the meaning of the story around the sign of Immanuel as used in Chapter 7. I knew from Matthew’s use of the sign in Matthew 1:23 that surely the passage was there basically to foretell the circumstances of Jesus’ birth – that he would be born of a virgin and that his name would be called Immanuel, God with us. But Fingland was a wise pastor who had looked at this passage many times over the years and he helped me sit with Isaiah and his ministry in King Ahaz’s court. Fingland went as far as to give me a full article on the chapter. I did not know that this real-life commentary would be so helpful in life and ministry.
You see, Fingland was the mentor and trainer that truly embodied 2 Timothy 2:2 – the things that he had learnt from those who came before him, he faithfully passed on to others who would, hopefully, pass it on to others. He had welcomed me to the UK just a few months before in September and took the time to introduce me to life and culture in the UK. As the typical Englishman he was, on the first Tuesday (I had arrived the previous Friday) he took me round to see Reading town and our first stop was a WHSmith shop and he bought me a diary. He needed me to learn good organisation of meetings, time keeping and honoring others. To him, there was no better way to respect others than to keep time and appointments. This I valued deeply though I need reminding from time to time. The first entry in that diary (which I still have) was a meeting at the church the following day dubbed ‘neighbours’. Fingland had me ‘pencil it in’ for 11.00 AM, promising to collect me from my accommodation at 83 Wantage Rd at 10.30 AM. Little did I know that, the day ahead would leave an indelible mark in my life for a long time to come.
Fingland was prompt at the door at 10.30 sharp. Rang the bell and I gathered whatever stuff I needed – a Bible, the diary, an old phone that someone had donated to me and off we went. He drove an old car, quite likely a second-hand but it was immaculately maintained. From the many times I rode with him, I saw a careful driver who kindly gave way to others, pre-meditated his moves and often used the phrase ‘You must have your wits about you whenever you are driving Harrison’ meaning that one needs to be extra careful on the roads. I was not a driver at the time but learnt a great deal from this older saint. We got to the building in ten minutes or so. He often called it so – Norcot Mission Church had some ‘brethren’ links who saw the church more as the people of God rather than the structures. He, for one, was hesitant to use the title pastor, for all the associations to power and authority that came with the title, and chose to use the more modest title ‘elder’.
Upon arriving, there was no one waiting for us. I thought the pastor is usually the last person to arrive – no he was the first. He opened the building, then we prepared the room for the meeting and got the coffee and tea ready. Then we had a quick drive to the nearby Helmsdale Close, to collect a couple of residents who needed help to get to the meeting. We got back and others came in, about 10 in total. Then it was time for prayer, fellowship and word. It was brief, lasting no more than an hour. We prayed, had a sermon from Psalm 8, caught up with everyone in the room, played a game of UNO and had tea and coffee with biscuits. All done. We drove back the two dear sisters who needed a lift, came back into the building, washed up and left the room ready for the next meeting. And there I was looking on at all this and wondering what kind of pastor is this?
You see, I had come from a big church in the centre of Nairobi and in my tradition, leadership was, and still is highly hierarchical. The highest person in the structure did less menial tasks and the lower you are in rank, the earlier you arrive (even in procession during services) and the more ordinary assignments you take. This was not the case here. Mark 10:43 was playing out right before my eyes. Here was a small church without much glamour or trappings but they were fighting for faithfulness to Christ and the Scriptures even when that meant that they were at odds with the culture around them. What a lesson I needed to hear? Never to play to the gallery of public acclamation but to always remember that ministry is an audience of one and Him alone we must seek to please.
But if you thought the day was over you are wrong. We drove back to his house on Grovelands Road and as would be typical of the many Wednesdays for the rest of the year, we would rest for a while then have a cold lunch – typically tuna sandwiches and then would spend the next two hours discussing Scriptures, theology, ministry and culture. Fingland had given me the best gift a father could ever give – his time and attention. He invited me to ask him any questions and he would draw his answers from scriptures. He never gave the impression that he had all the answers but we searched the scriptures together on various topics. This was the man who introduced me to reformed theology, put commentators like AW Pink and Lorraine Boettner in my hands and for systematic theology he gave me Louis Berkhof. This was a rich menu and for me it was coming in my early days of fascination with the internet and so I drank from these wells deeply. Wednesday afternoons marked a very special time of theological formation, I realised that much of ministry is caught, not merely taught – passed on from one life to another. Not only was Fingland clear on his theology but his ministry practice as well as lifestyle was bare for me to see and emulate.
I owe a lot to this man. He is not one of the well known ‘greats’ but he certainly was to me. The simplicity of his life, the godliness of his character,- his humility, commitment to His saviour left an indelible mark in me. I had heard about servant leadership but at Norcot Mission, I saw it lived out. It therefore hit me hard when I wrote our ministry newsletter this year and did not hear back for a while until recently when I received the sad news that Fingland had gone to be with the Lord just before Christmas last year.
Precious indeed, in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints. Psalm 116:15.
I Was Just Wondering 