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A Tribute to Ali Finlayson.

Editor’s Note: Alison (Ali) Finlayson, born 3 July 1961, passed away on 26 October 2024. Watch her Thanksgiving Service here at Heritage Brothers Funeral Services.

It was about four years ago that I met Ali and Mac on Canberra Declaration’s video prayer calls. Since then we have seen each other on a regular basis. They have children in Brisbane and I have kids in Tweed Heads and surrounds.

Early on, we met for coffees and chats, which eventually grew into lunches and dinners, and then into me “having a room” at their house, with talk of me moving into their student flat downstairs!

Our conversations and prayers moved from geopolitical topics to Canberra Declaration prayer points to personal family issues. Generally, I don’t tell people my bizarre history of raising my children in a cult, and my relationships with the eight of them and fifteen grandkids. With Ali, I could. We also prayed over Mac’s health issues and allergies, never suspecting that Ali’s health was under threat.

We have precious memories together from World Prayer Assembly in Perth and Jerusalem Prayer Breakfast on the Gold Coast. We were forever informing each other of events of interest. We had Canberra Declaration Fellowship in Wynnum, went to see Dr Aseem Malhotra together, marshalled together at the Brisbane Never Again is Now rally, worked together at the Will Graham Crusade on the Gold Coast, and spent Passover eating and dancing with Olive Tree Ministries in Tweed. My absolute favourite day of the year was Resurrection Sunday! From sunrise to night, Ali and I were together. What an awesome day!

Christmas With Ali

Many people have spoken of Ali’s Holy Spirit-led sense about when she needed to get in touch with a certain person. I experienced this first hand. Last Christmas, my family get-together was at the lovely home of my youngest daughter, who is a prominent psychologist on the Gold Coast and an internationally acclaimed anti-cult speaker. That year, she decided her mother was not welcome for Christmas, and the my other six children who were in the country went along with her decision. I was gutted, devastated, humiliated.

I fled to a Catholic Retreat in the Hinterland, braving severe, stormy weather. Having been raised Catholic, Midnight Mass, Palm Sunday and Stations of the Cross are all still precious to me. On this occasion, only Midnight Mass could salve my wounds. I stayed the night in the “Valley of Baca” — the valley of tears — despised and rejected.

About 2.00 pm on Christmas Day, the phone rang. Would it be tearful apologies from my kids, I wondered. No — it was Ali, inviting me for Christmas dinner. Their family event was over and there were yummy leftovers in the fridge, including Ali’s delicious signature marzipan and fruit roll. She said I had come to her mind that afternoon. I don’t recall telling her I was alone and on the Coast. How amazing, how compassionate, I thought.

I got up out of my foetal position and headed over to Ali and Mac’s for Christmas. That’s Ali being Ali!

Learning of Ali’s Passing

This year, I had the blessed honour of going to the United States in November for the Million Women rally and the Let Us Worship Rally in Washington, DC. Two lovely women in Virginia — Laurie and Jen — put me up for a few days for the second event. I woke up one morning in a cold sweat with three terrifying words ringing in my ears: “It’s almost Christmas.” I shook it off, picked up my phone, went straight to the Canberra Declaration’s Telegram account, and read that Ali had passed away at 10.00 pm the previous night.

I wanted to get on the next plane. I went downstairs into the loving arms of my Virginian hosts who upheld me in every way for the next few hours. We prayed and hugged, and hugged and prayed. These two women became precious sisters to me.

After hearing many testimonies on the Canberra Declaration call about how Ali was there at the right moment when needs arose. Ali, I miss you, and yet somehow I feel that you are still around.

As soon as I finished writing this, the phone rang, and I wondered if it was Ali! In fact, it was son number four from Tweed Heads asking me if I would like to join the family Christmas celebrations this year. To God be the Glory!

Let me end with a poem I wrote about the last Resurrection Sunday I shared with Ali.

Easter United

I spent Easter on the Gold Coast
We were up before dawn
Off to Elephant Rock we went
To see what’s going on

Lo and behold, music!
As the sun began to rise
Joy, peace and happiness
In two hundred shining eyes

Six churches represented
All with their unique light
All of them in unity
What a wonderful sight!

Then in groups some headed
Down into the water
Thirty five were baptised there
Mums, dads, sons and daughters

Then behold, a glorious feast!
In long tables, all prepared
There was laughing, singing, dancing
There was heaven in the air

Then off we went to celebrate
Resurrection Sunday with friends
At a singing, dancing church
Where they baptised another ten!

The Easter feast we ate there
Had twelve baskets full left over
Then we headed home for a nap
Until we could recover!

Was the day over? Heavens, no!
We had hardly just begun
We had to go to the concert —
Easter United, that’s the one

Eighty churches at the Broadwater
Many thousands, young and old
Six hours of praise and worship
With Mayor Tom Tate in the fold

Kids activities and food carts
A truly joyful sight
People watching from the high-rises
Till well into the night

Such a glorious celebration
Inspiration to last a year
But wistfully I wondered
Why can’t we do that here?

Imagine George Clayton Park
Alive with joyous praise!
Not just with Christmas Carols
But for Resurrection Sunday!

Our suburb is a popular spot
For fun and festivities
If we would just get united
It could happen here, I believe