A Fortunate Life

Last month on the occasion of my 50th birthday, someone gave me a copy of the book, ‘A Fortunate Life’ which is an autobiography written by A.B Facey.

The book is the story of Albert (A.B.) Facey, who lived with simple honesty, compassion and courage. (1894-1892) Albert lost his Father at the age of two and then was deserted by his Mother and left to be raised by his weak and elderly grandmother. At the age of eight on the rough west Australian frontier, he struggled as an itinerant rural worker and survived the gore of Gallipoli, the loss of his farm in the depression, the death of his son in World War II and that of his beloved wife after sixty years of devotion.

I picked the book up last weekend and found I could not put it down. I sat up Sunday night and read until 2.00 am. Here was a guy who endured hardships and difficulties beyond that which I could even begin to imagine. Despite all the hardships, Bert reflects at the end of it all and says, ‘I’ve really had a very fortunate life’ He lived through much the same era as my grandfather did, although on opposite sides of our continent. Reading the book gave me some profound insight into the my heritage as a descendant of early settlers in this country.

As I read story after story of hardship, suffering and pain, I grew ever more anxious to read some of some mention of the church or Christian people. Sadly I waited in vain. I became increasingly agitated as I read the story. I almost wanted to scream, ‘Where is the Church?’

It was almost at the very end of the book I read these words:

'My experience in the First World War and now the Second World War changed my outlook on things. It is hard to believe there is a God. I feel that the Bible was written by man, but not for the good of man, but for the purpose of preying on a person’s conscience, and to confuse him. Anyone who has taken part in a bayonet charge (and I have), and who has managed to retain his proper senses, must doubt the truth of the Bible and powers of God, if one exists. And concerning the many hundreds of different religions that there are in this world of ours, and the fact that many religions have caused terrible wars and hatred throughout the world, and that the many religions have hoarded terrific wealth and property, whilst people inside and outside of that religion are starving, it is difficult to remain a believer. No sir, there is no God, it is only a myth'. (Page 401-402)

Of all the tragic passages in the story, this paragraph hit me hardest of all. Surely I must read it over again and reflect deeply on what Albert Facey wrote here shortly before he died. Today I have given my life to serve the Lord within His Church. The Church must be seen to be one that shows in many and varied ways the amazing grace of our amazing Lord.