John Martin with a personal reflection on the life of theologian Richard Turnbull who died recently. A separate obituary was carried by en on 27 November, here.
I first encountered Richard in Southampton, when he joined the clergy team at my home church just as I was moving away to university. When I came home between terms, he had already earned the title of being a “hot Prot”. Whether this label was meant as a compliment or a criticism I am not sure, but he seemed to embrace it with pride.
This somewhat maverick approach to leadership was something I only properly experienced and appreciated many years later when I began as an ordinand at Wycliffe Hall. Hearing Richard’s unabashed vision for ministerial preparation, including a commitment to recruit tutors who had been in parish ministry themselves, I eagerly signed up to be among the first cohort as he began as Principal. Those were wonderful years where my wife Cassie and I made great friends and great memories. Richard became one of those friends – he did not care that we were students and he was the Principal, he was no fan of hierarchy. He became affectionately known to the students as “Turbo”, a nickname which captured a sense of personality – energetic, passionate, with some unashamed bluster, and loud guffawing at his own jokes (usually some anecdote or other about a bishop).
After a tumultuous season that resulted in him leaving Wycliffe, he stayed in Oxford to pioneer the Centre for Enterprise, Markets and Ethics (CEME), an opportunity that made the most of his financial and business acumen alongside his Biblical convictions. Our friendship continued, and during my time in church leadership, Richard helped at key points with a generosity, wisdom and care that Cassie and I will never forget. Whilst he was often a big personality when leading up front, he was gentle and reassuring in private.
Richard had previously battled with cancer, and I remember meeting him on a number of occasions, the physical toll showing clearly, but his beaming smile and twinkle in his eye undimmed. Having been given the all clear, it then came as a blow to him and to us all, when we recently received an email from him sharing a sudden terminal diagnosis.
Expectations for six to 18 months soon turned out not to be the Lord’s plan – within weeks of Richard setting up a WhatsApp group, his health rapidly deteriorated. I was immediately struck and indeed moved by two things as this group assembled.
First, this group grew not only in size but scope – the dialling codes revealed how Richard had made deep friendships and had had an impact on many across the globe.
Second, despite Richard’s evident and understandable distress in his final weeks, he constantly pointed us back to Jesus and to promises in Scripture, urging us to read various Psalms and hold fast with hope and gratitude.
One of his friends commented on the WhatsApp group that as Richard led his Christian history tours of Oxford, he will have frequently shared the famous words of Hugh Latimer, “Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, … we shall this day, by God’s grace, light such a candle in England as I trust shall never be put out.” We can be comforted and encouraged that the Lord has used Richard to fan into flame the faith and fortitude of so many of us, for which we remain so grateful.
Richard was a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, and whilst he taught us all so much about reformation history, Anglican doctrine and our rich evangelical heritage, most of all he taught us – and showed us – how to love Jesus, hold firm to the Bible, and never take oneself too seriously. What a wonderful legacy. May the Lord bless and comfort his wife, Caroline, and their family.
