GOD’S CALLING AND GUIDANCE – HOW DOES IT WORK?

In the life of our Anglican Church we need to have a clearer understanding of vocation, or the call of God to a person to have a particular ministry.

All discussions about “what on earth shall I do next” must be based on the assumption that God has a plan for each of us and that our function is to find out what that plan is, and then do it.

Quite often a particular vocation is something which is, as it were, forced on us, rather than something which we already do. It does not mean that someone makes you follow a particular calling. No; it’s more that you would not do it just for personal choice, but, instead, you do it because you feel impelled.

Vocation can be to any job or any place, but certainly a vocation to the ministry of the Church can be like that.

There were a number of things about myself which, in my own judgment, made me unsuitable as an ordination candidate.

I was no good at passing exams, no good at remembering names, no good at music, and so terribly shy that I never normally dared join in discussions or expressions of personal opinion when I was in a group of fellow students or with maturer adults.

In spite of this, the idea of seeking ordination and becoming a full-time parish priest just would not go away; in fact it became increasingly strong.

At school I, like 99% of other boys, joined the O.T.C. (Officers’ Training Corps) and received army training from the age of 15 onwards.
The purpose of this training was that, by the time a boy left school at the age of 18, he had passed ‘Cert. A.’ and was qualified to command a platoon in the school Corps and seek a commission in the Territorial Army.

Army life appealed to me in various ways. It had clearly defined lines, so that you knew where you stood in everything. It gave a sense of security and purpose, with opportunities to attain goals and progress.
Nevertheless, every time I tossed up between a career in the army and one in the Church, I just knew I could never be fully happy nor completely confident that I had made the right decision unless I was ordained. It was like an all-pervading certainty that someone was holding on to me and saying, ‘I will never let you go. I will not force you, you must decide for yourself; it is up to you.”

But that was only the personal side. The Church also had to call me, and so it came about that I was quite clear in my mind that I must apply somewhere for training for the ministry. The choice of a Theological College was never in question. My Father had been trained in Leeds and Mirfield and I never thought of going elsewhere.

Consequently, one May day (appropriately the Feast of St. Philip and St. James!) saw me in Yorkshire for an extended weekend of interviews.
When I heard that I had been accepted I felt relieved and very happy.
For the first three years we all worked for a Bachelor of Arts Degree. We were not permitted to do this in theology, lest our education might be too narrow, so the most able students worked for Honours, (B.A. or B.Sc,), and the rest of us hoped to have a “B.A. Ordinary” — a general degree which could cover more than four subjects.

The University rule for the latter was four subjects per year, the pass mark being 45%.

At the end of the first year, Philip Bell, true to style, failed in Philosophy! I will never forget the letter from the Warden of the Hostel, (where I had been living), about this:
“I am sorry you have failed in this subject. As this means the end of your course with us, the less said the better”.

I wouldn’t describe the receipt of that letter as one of the best moments of my life! It was a mortal blow. What it implied was, “ordination is not for you”.

At the time, my Father had moved from Cumberland to become Vicar of St. John’s, Blackburn, and someone in the town suggested I applied for a “fill in” job as a private (full-time) tutor to two children in Withnell Fold, near Chorley.

That was how I earned my living for the next year. Two guineas a week and lunch provided with the family, (at any rate in term-time).

But what about the vocation I had become so certain about?

While others urged me to seek a different career now that ordination was out, I stuck tenaciously to my conviction that the right thing to do was to pray to God and ask, “Lord, what is it you want me to do?” and then WAIT until He showed the answer.

The answer came, most unexpectedly, one afternoon that winter. I can remember it as clearly as if it happened yesterday.

It was a Saturday afternoon and I was up a tree, sawing off a branch which hung too low above the Vicarage drive. I was halfway through the branch when I suddenly remembered that I had heard the previous year that the University of Leeds was going to change its rules for a B.A. course. Instead of four subjects per year at a pass of a minimum of 45%, it was going to be three subjects per year at a minimum of 50%. I might have failed in Philosophy, but I obtained over 50% in each of the other three subjects.

That week I wrote to the University academic authorities. “Was I right”, I asked, “to think that, under the new regulations, I had already qualified for the first year of their B.A. syllabus? And did this mean that I could continue at the University the following September?”

The answer to both questions was “Yes”.

But that was only the first hurdle. Would those responsible for training men for the ministry of the Church accept me back as a potential candidate for ordination?

I could but ask them.

The answer was positive: “Yes, come back in September!”
My spirits rose about ten miles upwards! And so it came about that that Autumn I returned to Leeds university, to the second year of the course.

to be continued