The Quiet Faith of Phebe
A son’s tribute
Last Friday afternoon, a fitting memorial service was held to honour the person and life of Monica Hill, the founder of the British Church Growth Association and the wife of Dr Clifford Hill, founder and longtime Editor of
Prophecy Today. Some readers may have been able to attend the service, held at the Bunyan Meeting House in Bedford; others may have watched online.
On the very same day, 650 miles further north, another memorial service was taking place – the funeral of my dear mother, Phebe, one month short of her 98th birthday. While my mum never had the occasion to meet Monica, they knew of each other, and I had the honour of knowing both. Remarkable women, both, who lived through so many societal changes. Yet, despite many common attributes, their lives were to take very different paths.
Idyllic island
My mum was born and raised on the beautiful, rugged island of Rousay (pronounced
R-ow-see), one of Orkney’s best-kept secrets, on 27th March 1927. The second youngest of thirteen children, her father, John Marwick, was a farmer. Tragically, he died when my mum was only five, and she, like all her brothers and sisters, had to help their mother on a daily basis with the never-ending farm work.
There was no church in the Rousay parish of Wasbister where the Marwick family
lived, but a Sunday School was held in the school each week, to which Mrs Marwick encouraged her kids to attend; mum happily complied. The service was taken by a pious old man, bent forward with a bad back, but who was so committed to teaching Bible truths that he walked the several miles from his westside home to Wasbister each Sunday, having to trek the same journey back, often in the dark.
Mum had a terrific memory, and in later years could effortlessly recall in detailed form literally scores of stories from her youth in the inter-war years – remembering exactly where a brother or sister was standing when a memorable event occurred, even what they were wearing, the very words uttered and so on. As she would often say, ‘
I mind it as weel as can be’. Her childhood stories became immortalised in the book I wrote in 2017, ‘
Rousay Remembered: The endearing island childhood of Phebe Marwick’.
Christian influence
Mum left Rousay at the age of twenty, for the ‘big city’ life of Kirkwall, Orkney’s main town. Obtaining work as cook at the local hospital, it was no doubt those early Christian influences that led to her accepting the invitation to attend some services in the Brethren gospel hall with a colleague she worked with. In later years she loved to sing
When the Roll is Called up Yonder, one of the hymns she’d learnt during those gospel hall visits (we sang this hymn at mum’s funeral).
That Christian influence was clearly still apparent when, after getting married, mum strongly encouraged (made!) her children attend Sunday School, despite this not being the norm (only two people in my school class of nine attended). That, in turn became an influence in my own commitment to Christ many years later.
But sadly, mum’s understanding of the Christian faith was limited. She only rarely attended church herself because she didn’t feel she was ‘good enough’. This seemed to be confirmed to her when her beautiful daughter, Lorraine, a year older than me, died of leukaemia, aged just four. My parents were devastated – who wouldn’t be? – and mum erringly thought it was God’s way of showing His displeasure towards her. God seemed like a distant, unloving figure, and Lorraine’s death left a hole in her heart that lasted the entirety of her life.
Trusting in Jesus
After I committed my own life to Christ in my early twenties, there was no one I prayed for more than mum, uncertain whether she was truly converted. While I had always been very close to her emotionally, that mother-son bond was strengthened in 2020, when, during lockdown, I moved back to Orkney from Edinburgh, where I had lived for 17 years, to reside with and care for her.
Mum seemed totally
at ease with my own Christian faith, and loved all my Christian friends. But when, occasionally, I asked her if she wanted to come to Jesus, she would say, ‘I’ll think about it’. She seemed fearful of drawing near, scared of this distant, unseen God who she thought disapproved of her.
Then one day in the autumn of 2022, I felt led to ask my mum again if she wanted to draw close to Jesus. It was just days after the death of Queen Elizabeth, who was a year older than my mother, and someone mum had great respect for. I reminded mum of the Queen’s personal faith – she hadn’t been aware of this, but was clearly impressed. I also reminded her of various mutual Christian friends who had been such a blessing to her over the years in so many practical ways. I told her that their selfless love was an outworking of their faith in Jesus.
I then asked mum if she’d like to put her trust in Jesus. Right away, she matter of factly replied, ‘Yes’. Thinking she had perhaps misunderstood, I explained a little more what this involved, then asked her if she’d like to say a basic ‘sinner’s prayer’ with me. She repeated every line out loud. At the close, still unsure she had fully grasped what was being asked of her, I said, “
Mum, did you mean what you just prayed?’” She turned to me and said, “
Do you think I would have said it if I didn’t mean it!” I took that as a clear
‘yes’.
Safe in Jesus’ arms
Ever since that date, mum showed an openness to God that
she hadn’t previously expressed. Many a night, as I tucked her up in bed (just as she had done for me when I was a child – all the roles now being reversed), I would ask mum if I could pray for her before she went to sleep. Often her reply was, ‘
Oh yes, please’. She never said no. I would say a simple prayer, thanking the Lord for His goodness to her that day, and asking Him to keep her safe, reminding her of how utterly loved she was by the Father. As I closed, mum often smiled, thanking me.
I still sometimes wondered deep down if mum truly owned a saving faith, or was it superficial. Had she truly repented of her sins? I kept thinking I should explain basic gospel doctrines to her, yet was aware that her dementia was advancing, and she probably wouldn’t be able to comprehend.
Over time, I was given a clear spiritual conviction that mum was indeed safe in Jesus’ arms – that He had already done a good work within her, and there was no need for me to try to add to it. That brought me great comfort.
Fragrance of Christ
I had the privilege of looking after mum at home for five long years. With advancing frailty and dementia, she was transferred to a Care Home in February 2025, following a short spell in hospital. Sadly, her health took a sudden downward turn after just a couple of weeks in the Home. She became unresponsive, her breathing laboured, and carers told me she had just hours to live.
I spent some precious time with her in those closing hours, holding her hand, and speaking love into her life, regularly reminding her what God had spoken and what I now sensed so vividly – that she was safe in the arms of Jesus. Despite her heavy breathing, there was a real sense of the fragrance of Christ over her. He was taking care of her, and would continue to.
Into the arms of the Father
Unlike Monica, seven years her junior, mum was not steeped in Bible teaching, an understanding of essential theological concepts or even a basic evangelical worldview. Unlike Monica, mum never led anyone to personal faith in Christ. But, like her, she came to understand the meaning of the word
, ‘come’. Jesus said, “
Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matt 11:28-30).
Mum came to Him, weary and heavy laden as she was. She came to Him, just as she was, with all her baggage – she could come no other way. She came to Him, feeble and confused and hurting from the pains of life’s experiences. Thankfully, she didn’t have far to come. As she stepped forward, Jesus came running towards her, arms open wide, ready to embrace. He’d been waiting for her with outstretched arms for a very long time.
My mother was safe in the arms of Jesus even while lying on her bed in the care home. When her time on earth was done, and she breathed her last (Tues 25th Feb), Jesus gently lifted her up and carried her away into the arms of the Father. The Father, too, had been waiting a long time for this precious moment.
As the days pass, and I continue to feel the sadness of mum’s passing, I take enormous comfort knowing that she is completely at rest, safe and secure in the warm, enfolding embrace of the One who had loved her from time immemorial.