So, Who was Mary Jones?

(This post is dedicated - without apology! - to Bible Society, following my recent visit to Mary Jones World in Llanycil, North Wales)

In the churchyard of St Bueno at Llanycil, by the northern shores of Llyn Tegid (Lake Bala) in North Wales, is a family tomb surrounded by iron railings.  The tomb nearest the lake is that of Thomas Charles; nearest the path is the tomb of his grandson-in-law, Lewis Edwards, while a headstone between them records the burial of other members of the family.  The older man is commemorated thus:

Underneath lie the remains of

The Revd. THOMAS CHARLES, B.A. of Bala

who died Octr 5, 1814 aged 59.

By his indefatigable endeavours when in London (A.D. 1804) to

procure a supply of the Holy Scriptures for the use of his

native countrymen he became the means of establishing

The British and Foreign Bible Society.

He was the reviver of the Welsh Circulating Charity Schools,

and a most active promoter of the Sunday schools both for Children

and Adults:- and North Wales (the more immediate field of his

Ministerial labours for 30 years) will probably retain traces of

his various and strenuous exertions to promote the kingdom

of Christ till time shall be no more.

Also of SARAH, relict of the above Thomas Charles

Died Octr 24th 1814. Aged 61.

She was possessed of every natural endowment and

Divine grace, and was an helpmeet indeed to the

Man the Christian and the Minister.

“Cariadus ac annwyl oeddynt yn eu bywyd,

ac yn eu marwolaeth ni wahanwyd hwynt”

[They were loving and affectionate in their lives,

and not divided in their death.]

The inscription on Lewis Edwards’ tomb reads:

In memory of

The Reverend Lewis Edwards M.A. D.D. [Edin].

Founder and principal teacher for fifty years (1837-1887)

of the College of the Calvinistic Methodists in Bala.

Born October 27, 1809 Died July 19, 1887

Also Jane his wife

Born February 9, 1814 Died January 1892

St Bueno's Church (picture: Bible Society)

The inspiration for Thomas Charles’s ‘indefatigable endeavours’ leading to the establishment of the BFBS (later known simply as Bible Society) was a young woman called Mary Jones.  Her life is now the subject of an impressive display inside the church.

[The church is named after St Bueno who, in the sixth century used to travel all over Wales from his monastery in Clynnog Fawr near Caernarfon.  It was probably built in the twelfth century, but was rebuilt in 1881.  It closed for worship in 2003, and now has a new lease of life as ‘Mary Jones World’.] 

The brand new visitor centre

Mary Jones was born to a poor weaving family on 16th Dec. 1784 at Ty’n-y-Ddôl [the house in the meadow] in Llanfihangel-y-Pennant, in the foothills of Cader Idris, and her father died in April 1789.  In 1794, when Mary was 9, Thomas Charles set up a day school in nearby Abergynolwyn.  Mary had become a Christian in 1792 and, possibly inspired by this new development, she made the decision to save up for a Bible of her own.  It took her many years but, in 1800, she took her savings and walked all the way to Bala to obtain a Bible from Thomas Charles.

Many a fifteen-year-old today would find this task challenging, but 200 years ago, there was no public transport, few decent roads, in fact, and Mary had no choice but to walk.  We don’t know exactly which way she went, nor how long it took her.  It’s certain that she didn’t have 21st-century boots and walking aids!  The map tells us that a direct line from Abergynolwyn to Bala is 24 miles; Bible Society has published a five-day, 28-mile walk: a likely route devised for the bi-centenary by Mary Thomas with the help of local people, particularly the late Mrs Margaret Rees of Llanfihangel-y-Pennant.

In 1802 Thomas spoke about Mary and her determination at a meeting of the Religious Tract Society in London, and two years later the British & Foreign Bible Society was established.

Mary’s life was hard, but perhaps no more so than many poor people of the time.  She married Thomas Jones of Tywyn at Tallyllyn on 27th February 1813, and they moved to Cwrt, in the Dovey valley, roughly midway between Machynlleth and Aberdyfi, and their first child, a son Lewis, was born on Christmas Day.  In the next thirteen years two daughters and three more sons were born to the couple.  They moved to Bryncrug near Tywyn in 1820, but by the mid-1830s five of these children had died. Mary and Thomas were left only with John, the first son born in Bryncrug.  He emigrated to America sometime during the 1840s, and Thomas died in 1849.  Mary died 29th December 1864 after a lifetime’s involvement in the local Methodist Church, and is buried at Bethlehem Chapel in Bryncrug.

Since then - and even during Mary's lifetime - the Bible Society has been working throughout the world to make Bibles available where they are needed.  At present they have people operating in 146 different countries.  To find out more about their work, visit their website.  Who could have known that a long and lonely walk by a fifteen-year-old girl could have had such a far-reaching effect?

Illegally Parked

As a courier driver I am sometimes faced with quite impossible challenges.  A recent example was an urgent mid-afternoon delivery to a shopping precinct, where access is normally permitted only before 10.00 a.m. or after 7.30 p.m.  On such occasions, the only solution is to drive as close as possible, park on yellow lines where there are no kerb markings, and hope that a notice in my windscreen will remind any passing traffic warden of the difference between ‘parked’ and ‘loading’.

Such experiences are surprisingly common.  Sometimes they’re met by an understanding official who realises the dilemma and ignores the offence; sometimes by a ‘jobsworth’ who sees no further than that a vehicle is illegally parked and that he must issue a parking ticket.

One day, I had to deliver a heavy parcel to a building site that was on the far side of a public car park.  I sought advice from the attendant about the best way to get there.  The only way, he said, was to drive through the car park and, yes, that would be quite all right.  I went back to the van and entered the car park.  Having completed my delivery, I made my way to the exit, where I expected the attendant to press a button to lift the barrier for me.  I waited … but nothing happened.  I tooted … still nothing.  I tooted again, and the attendant beckoned me over to his kiosk.

‘He’s going to make me pay a parking fee,’ I thought, angrily. ‘He was the one who said it would be all right to drive straight in.  He didn’t mention a charge!’  Prepared to argue the point, I walked over.  The attendant explained, quite amiably, that he was unable to operate the barrier remotely from the kiosk, but that I would need a ticket to put in the machine.  He gave me a visitors’ pass, the barrier opened as I inserted it, and I was quickly on my way.

As I left, I thought of the parallel between parking and sin.  We all sin; we can’t help it (Romans 3:23).  And just as there is a fixed penalty for parking in the wrong place, so there is a fixed penalty for sin.  St. Paul spelled it out, ‘The wages of sin is death.’ (Romans 6:23).  That penalty has to be paid, in the same way that the machine had to have a ticket to operate the barrier so that I could drive away.  Our release from sin – the only way we can avoid the death penalty – is to accept a gift.  In this case it’s not a tangible gift like the visitors’ pass, but the gift of Jesus’ death on the Cross.  And it has to be accepted as a gift.  It’s not a right, nor something we can earn, or pay for.  That’s where the car park illustration falls down, because we can buy a car park ticket.  When it comes to sin, we have to humble ourselves sufficiently to accept the gift of Jesus’ life, freely given (John 10:17-18; I John 3:16).  It’s the ‘Get out of Jail Free’ card on the Monopoly board of eternity.

Happy motoring – and parking – this summer.

More Little Things

The other day I heard read a gospel passage (John 12:27-33) that sent my mind shooting back some thirty-odd years, to one of the earliest sermons I preached after I became a Reader.  I felt I’d delivered quite a nice talk, but my rector took me to task.  “You have just heard a lesson about Jesus being lifted up,” he said, “but you didn’t lift Him up to those who were looking for Him!”  It was clearly not a memorable sermon, but it lingers in my memory, albeit for the wrong reasons.

In a recent post, I wrote about little things, and used as an example Jesus’ teaching about great plants that could grow from mustard seeds (Lk. 13:19).  Paul wasn’t referring to mustard plants when he wrote, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God caused it to grow.”  (I Cor. 3:6).  Still less was he thinking of gardening when he asked the Romans, “How are they to believe in one they have not heard of? And how are they to hear without someone preaching to them?” (Rom. 10:14).

It’s staggering how long a shadow a single adverse experience can cast.  If we’ve encountered even a mild rebuke or rejection after talking about our faith – perhaps to a friend or family member – it can make us reluctant, even years afterwards, to be so unguarded again.  It doesn’t seem to matter how much pastoral or biblical encouragement is poured out upon us ... those all-important words just don’t come.  We speak of ‘thinking of’ someone in distress rather than ‘praying for’ them.  And although we know that God hears and answers those prayers, how much more could be the impact if the one whose distress was eased were to know that it might be because of our prayers?

Many years before that sermon, I used to sing in a church choir; consternation was often expressed among the men about teenagers who left the choir when their voices broke, and then never came back as altos, tenors or basses.  Full of prejudice and disapproval, we questioned what value all those years singing in the choir had been to boys who were now playing football or riding motor bikes.  I have often recalled the wise words of our choirmaster from those days who suggested, in line with Paul’s message to the Corinthians, that we could have no idea of the impact of what these boys had sung and heard in those hundreds of hours spent in church during their formative years.  “Maybe they won’t darken the door of a church again until they get married,” he suggested, “or are invited to a baptism or funeral.  But when they do, they won’t be the ones who feel uncomfortable about being there.  Something will strike a chord with them, and who knows what might come of it afterwards?”

He was quite right, of course.  We can have no idea what could grow whether immediately, or after many years, from seeds we might sow simply by talking about our faith.  One thing is certain, however.  If the seed is never planted, NOTHING will grow.

What seeds have you left in the bottom of a packet?