He’s in the background.  Mind you, he’s almost always in the background.  Syd.  He’s that sort of person.  He’s the guy who you really couldn’t do without.  He’s there before any one else.  He’s usually there after everyone else has gone.  He’s always at the end of the phone, or an email, or a text.

Syd pretty much saved my life.  Well, Jesus did, but he used Syd to do it.  And we both realised.  Syd’s not a well man.  He’s got Meniers Disease.  And he’s got Parkinson’s Disease.   Meniers is that awful thing that affects the inner ear.  He has almost constant tinnitus, and his hearing is impaired.  When Syd gets an attack he can end up on the floor, overwhelmed by vertigo.  Sometimes he’s violently sick.  And it isn’t always at the most convenient time.  It’s happened when he’s been in the supermarket doing the weekly shop.  On his own.  Sudbury’s shopkeepers have gotten to know Syd.  They’re a kind bunch.  In the main.  Then there’s the Parkinson’s.  It’s a neurological disease that affects the central nervous system.  So Syd isn’t completely in control of his movements.  His speech is slower than it used to be.  The future’s not so bright for people with Parkinson’s.  Unless they know Jesus, that is.  And Syd certainly knows Jesus.  It’s a good job too, because Syd’s health problems extend well beyond the Menier’s and the Parkinson’s.  He probably wouldn’t go on about it if you met him.  He doesn’t like to.  He just gets on with it.

Recently Syd walked to church with a cross in one hand and a bucket in the other.  The cross was to illustrate the talk he wanted to give that morning, and the bucket was there just in case he was sick.  You see, Syd really does battle on.  He’s not a well man.

But there’s something quite remarkable about Syd Platt.  He knows Jesus.  And he KNOWS that the power of God works best in weakness.  He’s proved it over and over and over again.  Syd’s a great listener, and he listens to God best of all.  And he hears.  And he shares what he hears, when it’s right to do so.

Syd was one of my most valued leaders of the church in Sudbury, Suffolk.  It was one of my happiest pastorates.  Sadly, rather like the ministry beforehand, my time in Sudbury was marked by significant illness.  And when I fell into a profound depression that robbed me of pretty much everything, Syd turned up on the doorstep.  He didn’t come with any answers.  But he came.  And the remarkable thing about Syd is that he kept coming.  Every single day.  Sometimes twice or three times in a day.  And he kept on doing that for over a year.  Until I was better.  Properly better.

There aren’t many people we would phone in the middle of the night, but Syd is most definitely one of them.  He’s not in the slightest bit threatening.   For a weak man he’s incredibly strong.  He’s got a core of pure steel.  And it’s nothing to do with him, and he knows it.

It was Syd who sat with me for hours when I could hardly speak.   He never overstayed his welcome, and he always seemed to know just how long to stay.  Sometimes I was terrified of being on my own.  Those were the days when Syd settled down and spent the entire day.  And then, as a dim shaft a light began to penetrate the darkness, it was Syd who got me to sit on the piano stool and try to play.   I couldn’t to begin with.  I just sat there with my head in my hands.  Then he turned up with his drum.  Some people would have laughed.  It did seem mildly ridiculous.  Two middle aged blokes trying to make music.  One with a bongo drum and the other with depression.  But make music we did.  Eventually.

When the time came for me to leave Sudbury, there wasn’t much left that I really wanted to stay for, but I would have given anything to take my friend Syd with me.   I gave him a drum.  Not that he needed another one.  It was a token.  A reminder.  Something precious that would forever connect us, just as God himself had connected us.  For me, that little drum symbolised so much.  I hope that when my friend Syd looks at that drum he remembers just how much I appreciate him and how significant the work is that God did through him in those dark, dark days.

I’m not a particularly well man myself. But I’m a whole lot better than I was. I’ve learned a little about God’s strength working best in weakness. I’d even go as far as saying I’m grateful for my weakness. Hopefully it means I don’t get in God’s way quite so much. And it’s pretty important for a pastor not to get in God’s way.  I can remember a time when I must have been a pain in God’s backside. If he has a backside. I think you know what I mean.

Syd’s even more poorly than he was those years ago.  Val and I visited him and his lovely wife, Marilyn, today. We always pick up where we left off, and it was amazingly good to see them.  Before we left, we all prayed together. I got to pray for my friend, which was very special indeed.  For more than a year, I couldn’t do that. He did all the praying, and not just when we were together either.  In fact, Syd carried me for month after month after month.  I shall never forget it.  And God has bound us together in a friendship that will never be forgotten.  It’s hard for me to overstate how much Syd means to me.

If God’s power really does work best in weakness, and the apostle Paul says it does, then Syd must be amazingly filled with the power of God right now.  And there are others who, like me, need his ministry.

I prayed for Syd’s healing today, and I anointed him with oil.  But the anointing with oil was as much for the work of ministry than anything else. Syd doesn’t feel that great most of the time these days. But God’s very great power really does work best in weakness.

I have a feeling that someone, somewhere will one day be testifying to the amazing power of God that came streaming through this really rather frail chap called Syd.  And Syd won’t hear of any accolades.

That’s why he’s in the background…