GROWING UP IN THE CANBERRA BAPTIST CHURCH 

Joyce, Joyce, Joyce, Joyce, as children

Keith Joyce comes from a well-known family in our church. In this article, he talks about growing up in the church in which members of his family have been active for many years.  My family has been involved in the Canberra Baptist Church since before it existed as my Grandfather was one of the original trustees. I have always had a strong sense of my family history being intertwined with the history of the Church. I am reminded of it each time I enter the sanctuary with the lovely window of the Last Supper, which

is in memory of my Father's Mother. My Grandfather was involved in the church from its inception and was Treasurer for many years. 

In fact a Joyce was Treasurer of the Church for about 40 years. My Father was not so involved in the administration of the church preferring to be involved in its life through the tennis club, the choir and many other little tasks such as working bees and the leisure club. There are some who have memories of me running around at the tennis courts with a nappy around my ankles. Mum has for me been the heart and soul of the church. She was (and is) always at Morling Lodge and the Ladies Auxiliary and attending the needs of the people of the church. We followed in her footsteps somewhat with trips to Morling Lodge to sing at Christmas and visits on a regular basis to talk to the old people who loved to spend time with 'young ones'.

My sisters, my brother and I were all dedicated, baptised, married and our children have been dedicated and baptised in this church. The funerals of my grandparents and father were held in this building. It holds a special place in my life and memory. Growing up in the church was to be part of a strong, caring and supportive family.

When I was a little kid, I participated in the life of the Sunday School and youth group fully. Sunday School started at 9.30am and we didn't get home until about 12.30pm. Whenever we had someone stay over on a Saturday night I would beg Mum to let me miss Sunday School. She never relented. We had to do the Sunday School exam each year that was a pain as it was on Sunday (or Saturday) afternoon. One year I was a bit flustered doing the exam as I had broken a window at the back of the Waldock Hall with a soccer ball before we started. 

As a young fella I attended Boys' Brigade. Phil Mills, his brother Trevor and the memorable Bruce Tier were our leaders. We used to have dark blue uniforms and got little badges for achieving certain things. We had a lot of fun on Monday nights doing gym work and playing games. 

We always enjoyed spending time with the other young people who were a large and committed group in those days. The Youth Group was our primary social group. We loved going to camps all over the place. Tathra was a favourite as was Bundanoon and, of course, Caloola Farm with its wonderful fireplace around which we spent time talking the night away. Camps were always my favourites. 

The first camp I went on was when I was 12. It was at Yarrongabilly in the Snowy's. The main group of people there were ones who had been brought to the Church through a coffee shop which David and Margaret Clark and Bruce Tier were running in the old hall called the Anchorage. Some of these characters were a bit rough, which I thought was fantastic when I went at 100 mph for the first time (I look back on it with horror as it was a dirt road). I could be a bit annoying at that age and inspired some of the older campers to throw me in the river that was filled with melted snow. Suffice to say that I was absolutely frozen even the only cup of coffee I have drunk in my life didn't warm me up. The leaders were concerned that I would get pneumonia so I was sent to spend the night at the (now closed) Kiandra Hotel. As it turned out I had a lovely night on a warm electric blanket and a hearty breakfast while those in the tents had a freezing night. This was my introduction to the Youth Group. 

There are some wonderful memories like the time that we were staying at Jacobs Creek near the Snowy River. There is a reasonably steep hill called Jacobs Ladder, which we sought to climb one day. About half way up, Barbara Cremer got a pain in the stomach, which might have been appendicitis so we carried her down the hill on the frame of a backpack, through a chest high river and put her in a car to Jindabyne (turned out she only had a gastric complaint). James Carter remembers the camp well as he drew the short straw and had to carry the toilet bucket at the end of the weekend. We would play endless games, walk on the beach in the moonlight, have stimulating studies and massive water fights. 

We went to Yarrongabilly on a number of occasions but a great time was not always had. On a few occasions it rained constantly. One time all our food, which was stored in the river to keep it cold was washed away. We went a little hungry that camp. Hunger was not usually a feature of Y.G. camps. We generally ate like horses. We would form food groups and each would try to out do the others. Some would have very formal meals with candles and the works. Alan Howe started his career as a gourmet cook at these events. Some however were not so creative. Any group with Alan Clark at the helm would simply eat lots of meat! 

But there was one camp were the lack of food became a serious sticking point. The Canberra Baptist Church Y.G. always participated in the wider activities of the Baptist Youth Fellowship of the ACT.

One time we gathered at Camp Sturt. The food was so inadequate that some people started stealing from the kitchen and when Margaret Churcher turned up with a cake from home it was devoured rapidly. 

We also enjoyed bush walks and ski trips. David Evans used to take us on rambles all over NSW. On one occasion he managed to bog his Triumph. I was driving the family HQ Holden and decided that I could get around to the front of the car and tow him out. Turned out that the route I took was not sound and we wound up with two bogged cars. Fortunately we got them out in the end (which was a better outcome than the time Merilyn hit a kangaroo on the way to Tathra). We also went on ski trips. Mostly cross-country and we had a great time skiing on fresh snow. Some were not careful enough with the sun protection and got severely burnt. 

We had some wonderful leaders (who seemed so mature at the time but were only in their mid twenties - which seems so young now) who put in a lot of time organising things for us. David Clark and Phil and Eleanor Hughes were wonderful at keeping us on the straight and narrow but allowed us to have a lot of fun along the way. 

In later years we started going to the Family Camp at Burrill Pines. There have been some great laughs at the concerts and some thought provoking services. The more memorable events include the baptism of Barbara Cremer in a wild sea by Fred McMaster, the big wet when all the tents were flooded and the big rip which sent several people out to sea. 

Many people have come and gone and some have stayed. The Mills girls, Greg Murray, Margaret Churcher, Geoff Crawford, Ian Smith, the Daks/Abrahamffy's, the Richards and the Kinnear and Butterfield girls and the Slade boys; all gave us a lot of laughs one way and another (and for some a bit of heartache). Some of us are still here - James Carter, Alan Howe, the Knox's, the Beauman boy(s), Shaun and Leontine, the redoubtable Stafford kids, Holly's, Gurney's, Bauer's, Blackburn's, MacKay's and, as the Ted Richards song has it, the Joyce Joyce Joyce Joyce Joyce's. 

The Church is both very different to those days as well as being the same. There was more sporting activity and less study groups. The youth group was bigger but there were fewer little girls. The Minister was taller and balder. I grew up with Mr Mac as my minister. He seemed a long way up in those days (though I overtook him in height later). He spoke with eloquence and old world reverence for words that I didn't fully appreciate at the time. I remember him often using the phrase 'we are grateful that the lines have fallen to us in pleasant places'. I think he meant it less as a statement of gratitude for an unearned blessing than as a reminder of our responsibility to care for others and share of our abundant wealth. He mentored my faith from birth to baptism in 1978. 

Physically it is very different. There was no lounge when I was a kid and the Minister's office was in the Vercoe room. The choir used to look straight out at the congregation and come down before the sermon. I was saddened when the extension was put on to the Hall (the lounge and offices), as there was a great wall with uneven bricks that I used to love to climb on the end of the building. 

I have been coming to this church all my life. It has nurtured and cared for me and shown me the 'better angels of our nature'. The church building has been the site of the some of the most joyous and some of the saddest events of my life. Memorials to my Father's parents, brother and my Mother's grandparents adorn the sanctuary. But it is not this that makes the church a comfortable place to be. It is the people both young and old, new arrivals and those who have been here 'forever' and the sense that in this place I will always be at home. 

Keith Joyce