‘I am just a man who happens to have a gift for Bible languages.’ So remarked Alec Motyer to me in the lounge of his home in late July this year. He was distinguishing himself, with characteristic modesty, from the likes of J. I. Packer and John Stott.
A few weeks later, on 9 September, there was standing room only in the Poynton parish church in Cheshire for his funeral following his death on 26 August.
Others have said: ‘One of the most truly remarkable men we have had the privilege to know’; ‘He opened Scripture in ways that brought – all at once and in great clarity – awe, comfort, illumination and rebuke.’
To the murmurs almost of laughter we learned that he had chosen the hymns, the readings and the preacher (Michael Wilcock). A series of family slides was projected over the nave before and following the service.
All were given a slim booklet of 20 newly published devotional readings by Alec from Exodus – the book, along with Isaiah, the Psalms, James and Philippians that had absorbed his delight over the years. Tributes were paid to him as pastor, educator, writer, preacher, friend and father – An alternative to the dry theology in the colleges in the 1960s (David Wenham). The ‘gold standard in expository preaching’ (Derek Tidball). ‘The prince of preachers’ (Wallace Benn). ‘He had an enormous capacity for contentment’ (Steve Motyer who has written an article on the substance of his life and work here).
