National Prayer Breakfast, Parliament House, Canberra
10th November, 2008
When people are asked to speak at events like this Prayer Breakfast, they usually come with a story of a life changing personal experience that reset their direction and lead them to courageous and self-sacrificing service that improved the lot of many. Our guest speaker today will tell us of such an inspirational story and we will admire her and give thanks to God for her life.My life has not been like that. I was born into a Christian family in a small farming community. My first outing as a baby was my baptism. Church services, prayers at meal times and family devotions were a routine part of my life. I went to the local state school but most of the boys in my class went to the same church as I did or one of the other churches in town. Naturally I went to Sunday School and joined the Church youth group. Later I became State President and was increasingly involved in my congregation and community, Rural Youth, farm industry affairs, local government and eventually politics.
I still remember the old church building, the hot summer Sundays, the Sunday School picnic under the trees and the hissing of the pressure lights on Christmas Eve.
My grandfather and his brother were among the early settlers when the farm land at Kumbia was opened up for closer settlement. Young and single he was looking for a start in life and to escape the prickly pear menace that had destroyed much of the best Queensland farm land. Soon the new settlers began to meet for worship. One provided some land and they built a small wooden church. They had a church building before many of them had proper homes.
Remember David in Psalm 132, "I will not go home or to bed; I will not rest or sleep until I provide a place for the Lord".
A manse followed and a cemetery for their dead. My mother was the eldest daughter of one of the Pastors. But when a little town became established, it was eight kilometres down the road. 50 years on a new church was built in town. Again the congregation members volunteered their time for many months to build a very fine new timber church. I can recall watching after school as my father helped with the construction, and being shocked when he was injured by falling timber when the old church was demolished.
I still love that building. Lyn and I were married there and even though it was redistributed out of my electorate, and we now worship in other places, it will always be my "home" congregation.
These days so many country churches are failing as rural populations decline. I have heard church leaders criticize governments for withdrawing services from regional areas, sometimes with justification. But too often the churches have been amongst the first to withdraw their priests and pastors. How sad it is to see a disused church building witnessing to the community with peeling paint, broken windows and overgrown grass. I appeal to the church leaders here this morning to stand by your country parishes. In these times of severe drought, water buybacks, diminished health and professional services and shattered rural morale, country Christians have their faith challenged and they need pastoral care. Some of your best people should be with them. And do not forget your aboriginal congregations where the breakdown in spiritual care is undoubtedly a part of the degredation of so many aboriginal communities.
I am inspired by beautiful church buildings, cathedrals, pipe organs, church choirs and fine sermons. My car CD menu features the Washington Cathedral organ and the voices of the Welsh male choirs and the Morman Tabernacle Choir. Bishops, you may sometimes see me admiring your cathedral - if you haven't got the doors locked, as is so often necessary these days.
In a country congregation we do not have the magnificent organs or the fine choirs, and often not the great preachers.
But I am also inspired by the cathedral of God's creation, the aisle between the gum trees, the choir of birds singing in the morning, the psalm from the bubbling creek, the gospel from the lectern of a healthy crop and contented herd, the gloria in the greatest architecture of buildings like this one and our fine cities, the sermon from the hilltop with commanding views, or the silent prayer from the koala in my backyard.
As the sign outside the church in the beautiful scenic valley in the Alps says, "If you cant see God out there, you are not likely to find him in here!"
But nor is that a reason to stay outside the church building, no matter how humble it might be. I need to go inside to nurture my faith. Inside I learn more about my God and what he has done for me, the message of salvation and forgiveness, the particular privilege of being born into an active christian family who live their faith, and a supportive community. I am assured again that God is with me in good times and the bad, especially for the week ahead and the tough policy decisions that must be made, the important speech, searching for the right answer to the questions of a challenging journalist, a solution for the problems of a troubled constituent I cannot find a way to help. But also to pray for my daily needs, safety on the roads, my health and that of my family, the respect of my colleagues and those who rely on me and the will to be better tomorrow than we are today.
I also want to be inside the church building to thank and praise God for all the great things he has done for me, through my life and still today.
