marty roy lovatt

[I avoid using this blog to post sermons, messages and the like. Blogs feel like a different genre and I prefer to chat away. But on this occasion I’d like to pay tribute to my special friend, Marty Roy, who died earlier this month after a battle with cancer. The family asked me to share about Reflections on Friendship at the Memorial Service.]



Here is a slightly edited version of my comments…

My
first memory of Martin Lovatt’s name was from my grandmother. 
The
Lovatt family had moved from Whangarei to Auckland 
and
had rented our family home while we were in India. 
On one
home leave, Martin had just vacated a bedroom which I then occupied. 
As
she wandered down the hallway and looked in my room 
(more
property manager, than grandmother at this moment), she said… 
“I
wish you’d keep your bedroom as tidy as Martin Lovatt kept it.”
It was
when I returned from India for the final time, 
that Martin
and I became friends. 

Gradually
our lives became entwined…

We enjoyed our sport together:
He
endured my cricket and I endured his tennis…
He even hid me on the tennis
court somewhere on our way 
to winning the men’s doubles title
at the Mt Albert Baptist Tennis Club.
But it
was on the basketball court where we had our most fun together.
Martin
was so fluid, so naturally athletic and, let’s face it, so cool.
And he
was far better than I at retaining his sanctification
in our
periodic efforts to dispose of Northcote Baptist Church.
We enjoyed our food together:
We’d
wander down Wellesley St during our university days
to
spend our student allowance on steak sandwiches.
Given
the demise of my culinary skills, it should be placed on record
that
it was I who actually taught Martin how to make an Indian curry

on his way to becoming the great chef that he was.
When
Barby came out to NZ that first time,
we
became engaged and then headed off to Cape Reinga
on
a road trip with Martin and his Mum.
I
remember arriving at the Edwards’ bach in the Bay of Islands
with
so many tamarillos that, in preparing them
for
their subsequent encounter with the ice cream and then our bellies,
Martin
and I had to use a bucket rather than a bowl.
We enjoyed our music and movies together
with
George Benson, Billy Joel … and Chevy Chase leading the way.
Sadly, some things have been left undone:
I was never
able to show my India to Martin.
He was
never able to show me his Tata Beach in Golden Bay.
I always
marvelled at the work of his hands:
initially,
the sketches & paintings:
he did
two for me that hung on the walls wherever we lived:
one of
the family home just up the road
& the
other of the old church in Russell;
and
then the working with wood and the graphic design.
We
both crossed the waters to be Best Man at each other’s weddings.
He
traveled from Auckland to Chicago.
I
traveled from Auckland to Nelson.
Just
11 days older than me, 
Martin’s
middle name is Roy, mine is Royston.
But
on many flights these days, there is not enough space
on
my boarding pass for my full name – and so, across the top, I wait to see
if it
will just say Windsor, Paul Roy 

because I kinda like it when it does that.
We
named our second son after Martin.
Martin
said to our Martin not so long ago 
that
he was ‘a symbol of our friendship’.       
While the name was given to honour Martin,
       there
is also the prayer that God might use
       his own
brand of genetics to graft the qualities
       of
Martin the elder into Martin the younger
&
Barby and I have loved watching the evidence of this happening.
At one
level these are the kinds of comments 
expected
from a friend at a memorial service.
But I
have to say they are not the first things 
which
came to mind – special though they are.
When
I think of my friendship with Martin,
my
immediate thoughts are of two profound truths in the Christian journey.
              One
is that we carry the image of God in us.
              &
the other is that Christ is formed progressively in us.


On an
occasion like this it is wonderful to say of my friend:
            In him, I’ve glimpsed Jesus. He reminds
me of the way God is.
            Because of Martin, I understand God
& love Jesus that little bit more.
Martin
was loyal
All
the time I’ve known Martin – he has lived within a few kms of this spot.
while
I’ve been a bit of here, there and everywhere
(&
that is always a challenge for a friendship).
          The ‘here there and
everywhere’ was never Martin’s concern.
          I was always met with that
same combo:
                the expansive
smile, the warm eyes and the committed hug
                that together
worked to sweep away the time and the distance.
    A
stable, loyal rock of a friend whose steadfast love did not cease.
Martin
was gentle
Not
outspoken.             Not aggressive.      

Not brash.                    Not
needing to be the centre of attention.
Always
the impulse to listen, rather than to speak.
I
loved watching my kids warm to him at the different stages of their lives.
One
wrote to me this week, simply saying:
‘Without
a doubt, Uncle Marty was the kindest, gentlest man I have ever met.’
            & I found this gentleness to be
soothing.
            When a little weary, a little
burdened

his gentle, humble heart did provide a little rest for the soul.
The
loyalty of God, the gentleness of Jesus was reflected in Martin’s life.
Martin
was good
In more
recent years Martin and I were part of a men’s breakfast group
       And on the drive across town – I’d
ask about his health & the family.
       Then over breakfast, similar
questions would be asked.  
He was
so good in the way he drew us in,
patiently
giving us the opportunity to be part of this journey.
But then,
every time, this brightness would come over him
when
the subject shifted to us.
        He
wasn’t absorbed in what was happening to him.
        He
wanted to be there for others. He remained so interested.
        He
took our little challenges, by comparison, to heart
                   listening
attentively and then praying fervently.
  Martin was such a thoroughly good man.
In
some of the most difficult places in the world today,
the people of God enter into a
little response together:
       from
the front: ‘God is good’    with
the people responding: ‘all the time’.
    then
from the people: ‘all the time’  & from the front ‘God is good’
At
times I’ve struggled to find God’s goodness in all this.
I
remember reading a psalm with Martin in the car outside his home.
            As I got started – ‘ohh, I’ve picked
the wrong psalm’
The
words felt hollow. So few of the assurances seemed true for Martin.
I
started skipping phrases and then verses.
I remember being so angry as I drove
home.
I
was ready to rip pages out of the Bible.
But… the appeal of the
Psalms and of the God to whom they direct us
is
that we can turn over a few pages

and
find a psalm that expresses just how we are feeling.
           
Part
of God’s goodness is that he is not unhinged by those feelings.
In
fact, the Bible says that ‘in our distress, he is distressed’.
            He finds cancer to be sinister and
evil.
And
the goodness of God is seen most fully in his restorative plans
for us
and for creation as we move into the future – a place Martin has reached.
            It is the certainty that
these plans will come to pass
            that enables us to endure –
plans that come to us as pictures in Revelation.
                       
‘He who sits on the throne will spread his
tent over them.
            Never
again will they hunger
            Never
again will they thirst
The sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat
For the Lamb at the centre of the throne
will be their shepherd
            He
will lead them to springs of living water
And God will wipe away every tear from
their eyes.’
Loyal.
Gentle. Good. 
How
many of us could bear witness to the same three?
This
is what Martin brought to friendships. 
I
knew it truly. I knew it deeply.



And
it is in the loyalty and goodness of God and the gentleness of Christ 
that
Martin would want us to place our confidence 
as we
try to move forward from this place with him alive in our memories and hearts.
Paul
Roy Windsor

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About Me

paul06.16

the art of unpacking

After a childhood in India, a theological training in the USA and a pastoral ministry in Southland (New Zealand), I spent twenty years in theological education in New Zealand — first at Laidlaw College and then at Carey Baptist College, where I served as principal. In 2009 I began working with Langham Partnership and since 2013 I have been the Programme Director (Langham Preaching). Through it all I've cherished the experience of the 'gracious hand of God upon me' and I've relished the opportunity to 'unpack', or exegete, all that I encounter in my walk through life with Jesus.

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1 Comment

  1. Anonymous on April 30, 2015 at 9:45 pm

    Thank you Paul.

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