I was born in North Manchester into a catholic family. I went to catholic school until my mother had an argument with the headmaster and we got moved to a Church Of England School. My parents split up and divorced when I was 7-8 years old.
Life was hard, not so much with clothing etc, but emotionally. My mother worked long hours and I was alone for long periods. By the time I was 18 years old, I drank heavily and smoked from the age of 15years old. I had an erratic punctuality record at school and work.

By the age of 21 I was confused, lonely and rejected. I drank every night and all weekend. Every available penny went on drink and I was drinking 10 pints and 4 shorts every night. On a Saturday, I would drink from 12 noon to 2am. Hopeless and mostly legless, I staggered through life, depressed and contemplating suicide, often I became isolated.

I met my prospective wife and we moved in together. She became pregnant and we married. We moved to Middleton, where Marie (my wife) started to go to church. She would nag me to go and I relented. When I went into the church, people were saying ‘amen’ and raising their hands. It was agony and I couldn’t wait to get out, but the vicar got me and asked me if he could visit. In my urgency to get out I said ok and dashed off thinking that it would be the last I saw of him.

He came round to see me every Tuesday for 6 months. He never missed and still Marie was pestering me to go to church. I was forced to go, which poured oil on troubled waters, due to my erratic, sulky nature. I would not speak for 3-4 days over the slightest thing.

I used to walk slowly near the entrance to church, looking around to see if anyone was looking and dash in quickly. I’d cringe through the singing, but when the sermon came, it was as if the preacher knew all about me. I thought Marie was telling him about me. I resolved to get to the bottom of ‘this vicar guy’ and find out what his motive was.

After 6 months he asked me if I wanted to give my life to Jesus. I said that I did, but that I was doing that much wrong, that I wanted to put things right first. I didn‘t want to say that I wanted to wait till I was ready.

The next day, I couldn’t swear without my conscience convicting me. ! I used to swear every 3 words. One week later, I asked Jesus into my life and two weeks after that, at a meeting, I started speaking in tongues.

I remember as a 4 year old, speaking to Jesus. I remember him talking to me, but it took 27 years before I would give my life to Him.

I’ve had good and bad times since. The bad times have been mostly of my own making, but not all. The good times have been much better that the bad and I’ve come to realise that God is more concerned with building character in our life than in having a carefree life.

The good thing is that He set me free from hatred and brought me out of isolation and depression. No medication can bring that acceptance that is in Christ.

I was born and he saw me, not just the external me, but the internal me. I wanted freedom when I was 15 years old, but he waited until the time was right. My wife also got saved shortly after I was. My oldest son gave his life to the Lord. He isn’t walking with the Lord, but he wants to. God knows the right time to achieve His purpose.

John P