Like the "Windmill"

The plain white postcard was fixed onto the pub door with a single shiny drawing pin.  Its message was clear, “Closed today and tomorrow due to family bereavement.”  Although a passing schoolteacher had angrily applied a red felt pen to correct the grammatical error (it should have been ‘owing to’ and not ‘due to’), its message was clear.  Old Jack had died, and there would be no boozing here on account of it.

As the family gathered in the living room on the first floor, the silence was so intense it could be felt.  Grandpa had been sitting in the corner as quiet and miserable as everyone else.  He could stand it no more and, assisted by his gnarled walking stick, he clambered to his feet.  “It’s all wrong!” he declaimed, “The place shouldn’t be shut up like this.  My father kept it going all through the war, through bombs, doodle-bugs and all the rest – folks used to call it the ‘Windmill’ instead of the ‘Fox and Goose’.”  As he rose to his theme, his youthful interest in motorbikes provided further evidence for his argument. 

“It’s like having a bike,” he continued, “either you keep it in the yard, cleaning and polishing it, and admiring it through the window, or else you get on it and go places.  Use it to see the world.  Yes, it’ll get a bit mucky, but isn’t that what you got it for?  And what about that Dankworth fellow?  When he died the other week, on the afternoon of the show, his wife and daughter didn’t cancel it – didn’t even tell the audience until the interval, so the news shouldn’t spoil their enjoyment!”  He collapsed into his armchair, exhausted, and the room fell into an uneasy silence once more.

Then, without saying a word, his son-in-law, son of the deceased and landlord of the ‘Fox and Goose’, stood up and walked slowly and purposefully downstairs.  As he opened the door, removed and tore up the notice, he looked up at the sunshine, and a verse came to mind that hadn’t penetrated his conscience since he’d attended Sunday school many years before, “Just as Christ was raised from the dead ... we too may have a new life.” (Rom. 6:4).

As the landlord walked back into the bar, wiping a tear from his eye, I invite you to take an Easter look into his past, and read again from Paul’s letter to the Romans about the significance for us all of Jesus’ death on the Cross, and the promise held out by His Resurrection.