It was all so unexpected. I called Peter in early October last year to see if he wanted to go for a walk and coffee. After some small talk he said in an almost matter-of-fact way that he was speaking from a hospital bed. He had been given a devastating cancer diagnosis and was urgently being prepared for a critical operation. 

Our paths had crossed a long time ago. In 1989 my wife and I were representatives for an international Christian organisation Operation Mobilisation (OM) in Scotland. Peter had applied to join and I was assessing him for a job on board the ship Logos 2. He never forgot one of our early meetings. We met in a well known fast food restaurant with a distinctive Scottish name. As we started on our meal Peter was aghast to discover a lump of, presumably, animal hair in his hamburger. Ever since then he would often joke that this was some kind of hidden test to go on the mission field. 

After a hiatus of some years our acquaintance was renewed when we belonged to the same church. Our friendship grew doing things we both enjoyed. For some years we went running together. These ended up becoming too competitive and stressful. I think I speak for us both! Neither of us would like to lose. We moved on to going for a swim followed by a sauna. Peter would often share his faith in Jesus. It wasn’t unusual for serious discussions to take place in the sauna with total strangers as Peter would share his testimony. 

In recent years we settled on going for walks both in the city and countryside. These were opportunities ’to put the world to rights’; discussing anything and everything of concern. On many occasions we would end up praying. 

It sounds like everything was harmonious and chummy. In fact we disagreed quite often. Yet we agreed to disagree and our friendship remained intact. I guess we also took some pleasure in winding each other up. Peter was loyal. He was gifted practically as a carpenter and builder and he shared these skills freely with friends and neighbours. There is probably only one person I would call at 2 a.m. if I had a burst pipe. Peter would be round within minutes.

Our lives are so fragile. In early October Peter was sent by his doctor to hospital for a scan. He thought he would be back home for lunch. He never went home. There were some grace notes in what were incredibly tough months in hospital and hospice. Joining his birthday party with his wife, children and wider family around Christmas time was special. 

I last saw Peter 6 days before he died. He seemed totally unresponsive and unaware of my presence. My last goodbye was reading Psalm 121 to him. It was probably of more comfort to me than him.

“The Lord will keep you from all harm – he will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and for evermore.”

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭121‬ verse 7‬-‭8‬ ‭NIVUK‬‬

I will miss him and still haven’t processed that he is no longer with us. Yet as Peter would urge (we) “do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.” (1 Thessalonians 4 verse 13b, 14).  

Good friends are surely a gift from God. To be valued, treasured, as long as we have life. 

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