My name is Chris, I am 54, and have spent most of my life living on the edge of sanity. My waking moments were a mixture of putting on a mask of respectability, while actively getting involved in criminal skirmishes of one kind or another. My sleeping moments were probably the dreams of plans for future escapades during the waking day. As a child, I used to be a sweet, blonde haired, blue eyed boy, but my innocence went at an early age along with the blonde hair. Lurking within was all the mischief you could possibly find in one package. Also as a child, I went to Church, Sunday school, the Church choir, and all of the trimmings that go with the sweet angelic look. Sunday was also the day that my mother seemed to get beaten up by my father, so as I was not receptive to any Christian messages, I opted out of the Sunday routine in the vain hope that I could protect my mother. It did not work, but to my young eyes, I thought I was doing good. My father, through health and alcohol reasons, never became a role model, so I gravitated towards my mother’s brothers who were serious London villains working for people like the Richardsons. This was my real education. Having had some court appearances and two short prison sentences, I was eventually given a life sentence for murder and robbery. This was in 1973. I served ten years of doing nothing, and came out of prison with the same habits, plus more than when I went in. Again, I managed to get myself a few extra points on my record for minor drug offences. (I took a degree in cannabis use while I was in prison, and brought the liking out with me into my outside life.) Having been recalled, released, recalled again, I then found myself serving a sentence for possession with intent to supply amphetamine sulphate. I should add that since 1973, I never felt that I owned my life. I owed it to the victim whose life I took, therefore I did not care what I did with my own life. Now that I was back in prison, I was recalled on the life licence, and for the first time, I really sat down and tried to understand what I was doing to myself and others. I was at Bullingdon prison in Oxfordshire, and from there I was allocated to The Verne, in Dorset. I was placed on D wing, which houses Kainos, a Christian based project which offers ‘A Challenge to Change’. This event took place in October ’99. Having found that there were no courses available for me to address my offending behaviour, I stayed on D wing, and accepted their challenge. Four days after I landed here, I was involved as a participant in the Kairos weekend, which teaches of the Christian love that abounds, and finding acceptance with a new way of living life. My head was broken in that time from the incessant assault of Christians telling me of love, and all I could see were the childhood memories of my mother being beaten up by my father. Christianity and those beatings were synonymous in my eyes, and I did not want any of the Christian stuff. I found that what I was doing was taking the message out of the middle and dropping the Christianity like so much chaff. Something did rub off, and that was the message that "Prayer works." This was after four months of the journey programme, where more of the teachings are given as food for thought. While on the unit, I was having conflict with a guy, lasting for two months. I decided that I would give this prayer stuff a whirl, and prayed a short prayer for God to sort this problem out, as I had two months of nothing working. Two hours after my prayer, the guy in question came in to apologise to me for misunderstanding everything I was trying to do for him. I sat without words, rare for me, and tears were in my eyes, as was my heart in my mouth. I was shocked that an answer had been given in such a short time, and managed to thank the Lord for his intervention in this issue. The following morning, after a night of searching myself and where I was going, I gave my life to the Lord. What else could I do, having been shown so boldly that prayer does work. All of this happened two years ago, so I am still a fledgling Christian. I still make mistakes, and now feel conviction when I do. I still swear, so I need prayer on that score, and I can still think. But now I involve Jesus in what I am doing. I can’t manage to go to church on Sundays, but I do enjoy the informal praise and fellowship on a Friday evening. Some of my own wounds go far too deep for me, but I know the Lord loves me, and that is good news. As for prayer. Try it. You too may be silenced for the goodness you have witnessed. |
