Who are you most inspired by?
I am increasingly inspired by people whose names never appear in headlines. They are the ones who turn up, notice what needs doing, and do it without making a fuss.
Brilliance has its place. We need gifted people. But as I get older, I find myself more deeply moved by the people who simply keep showing up. Carers. Volunteers. Parents. Teachers. Pastoral workers. Nurses. Cleaners. Chaplains. Neighbours.
They are everywhere, though they are often easy to miss. I have met them in churches, schools, universities, colleges, hospitals, and the wider community. They are the people who do the work that holds life together. They see the gap and step into it. They do not need to be thanked every time. They do not make themselves the centre of the story. They make it happen without making a fuss.
As I write this, I think of Tim Winton’s account of the man who came to help his father after a catastrophic motorcycle accident. Winton was a small boy when his father was almost killed in 1965. He came home severely injured, bedridden, and unable to wash himself. Then one day, a man the family barely knew appeared at the door. His name was Len Thomas. He had heard about the accident and simply wanted to help.
For weeks, he came to the house almost every day. He lifted Winton’s father from the bed, carried him to the bathroom, and gently bathed him. Tim Winton would sit outside the bathroom listening to the running water and the quiet conversation between the two men, trying to understand such unexpected kindness.
It is a remarkable story because it is so ordinary. There is no grand speech. No public gesture. No performance. Just a man turning up to wash another man who could not wash himself.
Winton has described it as an act of grace, and you can see why. Grace, in that story, was not an abstract idea or a religious slogan. It was practical. It involved lifting, carrying, washing, returning, and doing it again the next day.
That is the kind of goodness that moves me most. It also says something about strength. We often imagine strength as independence, toughness, or control. But here was a different kind of strength altogether. A wounded man allowed himself to be cared for. Another man offered care without embarrassment or self-importance. Tenderness replaced bravado. Compassion replaced distance.
That is why I am inspired by people like that. Not necessarily the famous. Not necessarily the brilliant. Not necessarily the people whose names are remembered by history. I am inspired by the faithful ones. The people who do good without needing applause. The people who make it happen without making a fuss.
The Afterword 
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