 
It's In You Lad!

## The True Story Of

## God's Dealings

## With Fred Brewer

##### By Alan Smith

Copyright 2014 By Alan Smith

Published At Smashwords
Contents

FORWARD p 3

1 TROUBLE BREWING p 4

2 MURDER IN MIND p 8

3 FRED CHANGED p 12

4 USED BY GOD IN HOSPITAL p 19

5 GOD REVEALS HIDDEN THINGS p 22

6 GOD PROVIDES IN YORK p 26

7 IS THERE MORE GOD? p 31

8 GLORY IN THE CHURCH p 36

9 DEALING WITH DEATH p 43

10 GOD'S POSIBILITIES p 49

11 NEVER THE SAME AT FISKERTON p 56

12 FITTING IN THE FRAME p 62

13 TRAVELLERS – THE INSIDE STORY p 67

14 DISTURBANCE IN THE NEST p 72

15 JESUS MANAGING DIRECTOR p 79

16 RELEASING CAPTIVES p 82
Forward

I am delighted to have been asked to write a forward for this book, which is the life story of Fred Brewer, a personal friend of mine. It was my privilege in the late fifties to be at that very Gospel Meeting where he was dramatically converted and his life radically changed.

A favourite hymn he loved to sing after this experience was:

Come weary sinner, drowned in shameful sin.

Look to the rugged cross,

Glorious salvation promised not in vain.

Look to the rugged cross.

There's peace and pardon only in Jesus.

Look to the Lamb of God.

In this book you will see how Fred came to put his trust in the One who died for him on that old rugged cross; how he was filled with the Holy Spirit and loves praising the Lord and telling others about his Saviour.

Many times we have ministered from the same platform and I have seen the Lord use him to challenge, encourage and bless many through his preaching and testimony.

One of Fred's favourite sayings either to his many friends or to me was, "Have you heard the news?" When asked what news, he would respond, 'Jesus is coming soon'. As you read Fred's story, I believe it will create a desire in you to draw closer to God and do exploits in Jesus Name.

Every blessing

David Willows

Evangelist
1 TROUBLE BREWING

We were always moving house, My mum was what you call a 'flitter', she could never settle anywhere. She was a hard worker and an amazing manager; she knew how to make ends meet and make do with what little money she had to make our home nice. She was Victorian in her ways and would never allow swearing and she dreaded the thought of me stealing. Even when I was really naughty, as I often was, I knew she loved me and I loved my mum. I think she had experienced hard times. Her first husband had died in 1917 and her first daughter was killed in a car accident, so she had been a wife, mother of two girls and widow before she was twenty-one. After this, I think that she was only too happy to meet a man who would take these responsibilities on board and marry her. My dad-to-be had been injured on the Somme during the First World War. He had been carried off the battle field blind and dumb, but agreed to be a guinea pig for a new operation which successfully restored his faculties. After the war, he became a charge hand at Ransome and Marles the local ball bearing factory, and that is where he met the lady who was to become my mother.

I had to go on errands for mum. I would be ten years old when she started sending me to the Bridge Inn, Newark, to buy two bottles of ale for her. The barman would fill the bottles right to the top from the pump; then he would put the stopper in. I watched as he would dip a sticky label in the ale slops and stick it over the bottle stopper and down each side of the neck. I would be outside in a flash and before the sticky labels had a chance to dry, I would carefully peel them off, pull the stopper out and have a drink down as far as the star marker on each bottle. Carefully I replaced the stoppers and sticky labels and delivered the bottles to mum. She thought the barman in The Bridge Inn ever so mean just filling the bottles to the star marker, but unbeknown to her I was developing my taste for alcohol, a trait that ran in my father's family.

Born on the third of October, 1929, into a working class family, I arrived, a little bundle of trouble, Mum and Dad's only son, Frederick Brewer. I was to find three ready made sisters and the kind of home in Newark where I was clothed and well fed, but I don't ever remember being cuddled by Mum and certainly not by Dad. He would come in from work, have a wash, get his tea then go off to the pub. He had a reputation as a drinker and would not leave the pub until closing time. Even then he always brought a bottle home. The drink was to help him get to sleep, he would tell me. Men at the pub said he could drink twenty six pints and by the state he arrived home there must have been some truth in this. Often from my upstairs bedroom I would hear him come home drunk. Voices would rise as he argued with mum; this was followed by the sound of slapping as dad hit mum. Dad, never was one to lose an argument.

I only once went downstairs to ask dad to stop hitting mum; never again I learnt, as dad struck me a blow with his fist. You don't interfere or tell dad to do anything. In spite of this I had a great respect for him as a faithful provider. Only once did he ever spend time with me. I still remember it clearly, that day when he took me on the cross bar of his cycle to Farndon, a little village by the river, some three miles away from home. That was quite an adventure for me. Although he never again took me out or spent time with me, I would love to watch him as he repaired boots or did some other job around the house.

It was in 1937 that the family moved to Chestnut Crescent, Newark. This was my favourite house. I just loved it; the whole area was to me like one big adventure playground, with fields and hedges, great places to build myself a little fire-and how I loved fires! Over the other side of the main Lincoln Road was Cafferata's, a brick works with ponds where you could make and sail rafts or go for a swim; and nearby was an apple orchard to go scrumping in. The River Trent was only minutes away for fishing and there was the biggest supply of maggots for fishing you ever did see, thanks to the hundreds of rotting animals at the local glue factory. The unbelievable stink from the glue factory and the nearby sewage works did not spoil my enjoyment of exploring this whole area and the nearby village.

At the outset of the second world war an airfield was established in Winthorpe. I could get so close to the bombers taking off that the pilots would wave to me and I would wave back. Just off the end of the runway was a large collection of crashed planes for me to play on. What more could a boy ask for? The only bad thing was school. Mum sent me to Lovers Lane school and I hated every moment. It felt as though the teachers used my bottom as a test bed for their canes. I really hoped the Germans would bomb the school. The army moved into the school but unfortunately I was moved to Mount School on a part time basis. So the Germans did help me a little. As the war continued something of a cloud descended on our home. The war was going badly. The blackout made life difficult and there was a lack of news of my sister's husband, who was a prisoner working on the Burma railway, 'The Railway of Death'.

I liked playing with my friends but was just as happy on my own and I became a bit of a loner. One day whilst alone, I was approached by two young men and in my innocence was introduced to the world of sexual activity, they interfered with me. The consequence of this incident was to have far reaching effects on my mind and was to give me a peculiarly unhealthy and wrong view of sex for years to come. However I cannot blame anyone else for my stealing. I found it was easy as I developed my skill. My motto was, 'If it stands still, pinch it!' One of my methods employed was while shopping for mum. The shop keeper had an arrangement with her. He would keep a list of things she wanted in a book in the back of the shop; then the bill would be settled on dad's pay-day. I would ask the shopkeeper to check the book, which gave me time to steal whatever I wanted. You had to be an opportunist, like the time the delivery driver came into the shop after I had sent the shopkeeper to check mum's book in the back of the shop. That wasn't going to stop me. I just slipped outside and raided his delivery lorry!

I must have led a charmed life. I can't ever remember getting caught red-handed. Well, there was that time in the apple orchard when I was up the tree helping myself; the next thing I knew all my pals had vanished and there stood this angry man. "Don't summons me," I cried. He thought for a while, then said, "I'll not summons you if you do some work for me. Fill these bags while you're up the tree." I was only too pleased to do that, I counted it a let off. The job done, I climbed down the tree, apologised to the man and fled. Passing the rubbish tip on the way home I could hear laughing. Sure enough it was my pals who had run off. "What took you so long?" they asked. So I told them the story. My pals were by now helpless with laughter, tears streaming down their faces. They then told me, amidst repeated bursts of laughter, "The man was not the owner of the orchard, but was there to steal apples himself"!

Trouble did come to my door. One day an irate father was shouting to my mum about a cycle lamp I had taken, saying he wanted it back and me punished. I, of course, with my best innocent look, denied taking it, saying, "I haven't got it." Well I hadn't; it was under the lilac bush where I had hidden it! To give mum her due, she didn't smack me; she sent the man off with a flea in his ear for accusing her Fred! The police did come to our door looking for me, but I always seemed to be able to talk my way out of trouble. I must admit the police were usually right in thinking it was me.

Stealing didn't always go so smoothly. One really dark night I slipped out of the house and met a pal. We had arranged to steal a rabbit hutch. I thought that if I had a hutch, then Mum would let me have a rabbit. My pal passed this hutch from over a nearby hedge and we carried it to his home. I slunk quietly back into my house. Next morning I was up early to see my pal. To my amazement he told me there was a rabbit inside the hutch. I felt terrible; stealing a hutch was one thing, but to my mind stealing someone's rabbit, that was dreadful. This rabbit was on my mind all day. What was I going to do? What if we were found out? I agreed on a plan for that night. I was so glad it was a dark night and I was further helped by the war blackout. I slipped out of the house unseen. Meeting up with my pal, we returned the rabbit and hutch to the house of its owner. I was so relieved to get safely back in the house. I often wondered what the owner must have thought when his rabbit reappeared.

I had a fascination with fire. If I went into the kitchen and started singing to cover the noise, my mum would shout, "And you can put those matches down, Fred." How did she know I was after the matches? I usually managed to get away with a few and what fun I would have. My favourite game was bullhunting, I would go to a house with a drain pipe next to the front door, stuff loads of newspapers up the drainpipe, then set fire to them, at the same ringing the front door bell. By the time the door was answered the fire was well alight. There was a terrific roar like a bull as the air drew the fire up the drainpipe, but nothing was visible as the fire was inside the drain. It was great fun.

One day, whilst exploring, I went into a small building used by the gas company. You could hear the gas going through the pipes and there were meter gauges and all kinds of things inside. Someone had dumped a pile of linoleum outside. It was my lucky day! I knew this would be good for my fire as it would burn well. I piled it up outside the building against the twelve inch gas main that led inside and I started the fire. It was just getting a good hold when I heard a car in the distance. I turned to see a police car coming across the field and P.C. Stacey with the door open, standing on the running board. He jumped off before the car came to a stop and ran over to the fire. He quickly kicked away the burning linoleum and stamped the rest of the fire out. I still don't know how I got away with that one.

I was even more fortunate the day I broke into a building on land used by the army to train officers in demolition and explosives. I found these round things with wires sticking out; although I had no idea what they were, I still stole them. Attempting to discover their use, I put one on a fire I had made. I soon found out, as within seconds there was a loud bang. It was some kind of detonator. Only years later, in my own army training, did I discover that even the heat of my hand could have set it off; and I had pockets full, certainly enough to blow my legs off.

In spite of my bad reputation there was a man called Mr. Holland who would always chat to me and we became friends. He lived on his own and I suppose liked someone to talk to. One day he stopped me and told me he was going on a holiday and asked if I would I look after his garden while he was away. I wondered why he should ask me, I thought he must have seen me jumping into peoples hedges and he had such a lovely evergreen hedge. I was happy to look after his garden and made sure none of my pals caused any damage or broke his hedge down. On his return everything was just as it should be. That was the last I thought of it until years later I was working at a local garage, when who should pass, but old Mr. Holland. He was delighted that I had come across for a chat and as we got talking I said , "Do you remember that time when you asked me to look after your garden while you were on holiday?" "Yes," he replied, "I can remember it very well, Fred." I said, "I've often wondered why you asked me." "Ah," he replied, "Well, I can tell you now. I thought to myself. Who is the worst lad on the estate? Well, it had to be you, Freddie, and I'll tell you something else-it worked, didn't it?" I said, "Yes, I wouldn't let anyone near your garden." We had a lovely time talking about the things I used to get up to. He enjoyed the time I tied rope between the butcher's and the grocer's front doors, knocked on both doors, then watched in fits of laughter as both struggled to open their doors!

Having nothing to do at home one day the family decided to get the Ouija board out. I thought it was just another game like snakes and ladders, but as we sat around the table each with a finger on an upturned glass, I was surprised as it moved from letter to letter around the board spelling things out. I saw there was more to this than I could explain. I could usually work out why things happened or how things worked, but I could not explain what I was seeing. Like my initiation into sexual activity, I sensed this unexplained and mysterious Ouija had an adverse effect on me. My sisters' efforts to get me to attend a local Sunday School didn't seem to help me either. Perhaps getting thrown out of Sunday School after only a few weeks did not give it a real chance.

For some time I had been experiencing bad dreams. These got worse and developed into full blown nightmares. The terrors and horrors left me screaming for help in the middle of the night. Blind panic would grip me as there was no escape from the images. Everywhere I turned in my dream was horror, fear and even more frightening figures; night after night there was no escape. The family were so worried about my constant nightmares that I was taken to the doctors. The medication of glucose and milk drinks had no effect and going to bed became a fearful time for me with screams often being heard from my room. One of the nightmares that stood out from the rest was just so real. I was kneeling in prayer in the large parish church in the middle of Newark. I was compelled to look up at one of the stained glass windows, the colours of the window started running together, then the whole window exploded. I was cowering between the pews, I looked again where the window had been, but now, crouched on the window ledge, was a most terrible figure with what appeared to be a horrible bloodstained face, terror hit me as the figure spoke. With my stomach aching, my body trembling and in a cold sweat, I saw a hand point directly to me, "You will serve me," the voice said. By this time I was in a blind panic and woke up screaming. I had no idea what the devil looked like before this nightmare but even by now, wide awake I knew I had seen and heard him. My child's mind worked overtime on thinking how I could escape or hide from God, now the devil had me. I would build a great strong steel cage and hide in there away from God. I felt I had no one I could tell, no one who could help me. My nightmares about the devil continued. I could not escape him.

One night I was climbing what looked like a very high pit heap with a track running around it all the way to the top. When part way up I came to a watchman's cabin on the track side, the watchman came out and said, "Don't go up any further, the devil's up there." I listened to his warning and turned to go back down, as I rounded the next bend on my descent I was confronted by a frightening figure, He would not let me past. I knew who he was. He wanted me to go up the mountain with him and as I resisted him he pushed me with such a violent blow that I was swept right off the track and down the side of the mountain. My body smashed against the rocks; broken and bleeding I fell down and down, I would momentarily come to rest on a ledge, only to slip off down another rocky precipice. I wanted that fall to stop but it just went on and on. Oh, the sheer relief to wake up alive and in one piece, even although a very real fear was still with me.
2 MURDER IN MIND

After leaving school at fourteen I got my first job at a cobblers, thinking I would learn a trade in boot repairs, but in fact I was placed on a finishing machine from dawn till dusk, polishing army boots. I discovered my employer had the army contract for boot repair and no matter how hard I worked, the mountain of boots to be finished was as high as ever. I hated this laborious treadmill and was delighted when I got a job at Donald's garage serving petrol. During the war this was the only garage open for petrol in Newark, so it was busy. I was earning twelve shillings and six pence a week but my deals with lorry drivers and American airmen kept plenty of money in my pocket. I would give the lorry drivers a receipt for ten gallons of petrol at a cost of nineteen shillings and two pence and any petrol ration coupons I made on the deal were sold to the Americans who were willing to pay ten shillings just for the coupon.

I worked for a while at Stanilan's the butcher for a pound a week but it was not long before my rebellion against authority got me the sack. The boss got sick of me messing about flicking mince at the staff and playing Tarzan on the overhead pulley! My next job at a painter and decorators did not last much longer before the boss found out I was lying. When he asked why had I not arrived at the brewery site for work I would say I was at the office or some other site, but before long this deception caught up with me. I was so mad when the boss found me out that when he went to get my cards from the office I took an axe to the rungs of all the ladders in the yard and returned to get my cards and leave before the damage was discovered. My love of cars drew me to get a job at Shipsides garage that had reopened to the public in 1944 after its army service.

Throughout my early teens I continued being plagued by recurring nightmares, but in my daily life my rebellion increased and as I became stronger so I became more violent. It was at this time my fascination with knives developed and on seeing some different kind of knife I just had to have it for my collection, that now numbered eight. They were carried around my waist in a belt I had made for the purpose. Many were the times I would practise throwing and using them. Being obsessed with weapons, my delight knew no bounds when one day I found a gun, it didn't work, but I felt good just carrying it.

As my mind worked overtime on my obsession, I persuaded not only myself, but lied to a pal, telling him that the police were after us for some mischief we had been in together and that we would have to run away. My pal got on the crossbar of my cycle and we set off to a nearby village. After spending some time there we must have thought it safe to return. As we approached Newark, there waiting for us on the road was a police car. We were on top of this unmarked car before we realised what it was; my pal quickly got off the crossbar. Too late! The police were out on the road stopping us. We were told to get home and the police would come round to see us with our parents. We made as if we were going home, but instead made our way to Lincoln. In my mind I was planning to get in a railway truck and go to London. Finding the way to the rail sidings blocked by a locked gate, I forced the gates apart and started squeezing myself though the gap. Feeling a strong grip take hold of my arm, I turned, to be confronted by a very big policeman. He wanted to know what I was doing, but I was so mad with him because he had spoilt my plan to get away that I was really cheeky and abusive towards him. The policeman said I deserved a good clip round the ear. I baited him, willing him to hit me. That would be all the excuse I needed to stab him. This strong desire was within me, wanting to wound him with my commando knife. Not surprisingly, with all the lip I was giving, we ended up getting arrested and taken down to the police station.

The station sergeant wanted to know what I had been doing and told me to turn my pockets out. You should have seen their faces when all my knives and the gun were placed on the table! Inevitably I was put in the police cells for the night. The next morning I was brought before another Sergeant. My mother came in, crying her eyes out, whilst the sergeant warned me that if there was any more trouble, I would be locked up. I felt it was a victory to get off with a caution. Within five minutes of being released I ran off from my mum and made my own way home. Looking back, it still amazes me how she could love me.

My violence only increased as I took on the hardest job of my young life, working on the overhead power cables for Balfour Beatty. It was tough. You had to be hard to survive; there were no mechanical aids. Everything was done by hand, working in biting winds soaked to the skin in driving rain and snow or suffering in the searing midday heat. It was agony, digging trenches in the mud across waterlogged fields and lifting power line poles or being sent up the pole in a high wind. The job stopped for nothing. The foreman had not heard of the word safety as he drove his men hard every day, regardless of weather or danger. Working in an environment like this attracted hardened tough men, so I learnt a lot about fighting or knowing when to run if you had met someone more than your match.

The only good thing about this job was that it was well paid. I liked to have money in my pocket and although I was not a soft touch, I would like to buy my pals a drink or some cigarettes. Perhaps someone wanted a few pounds just to help them out and I was happy to help them. It was at this time that The Fair came to Tolney Lane, Newark. So off I went with a few pals to enjoy ourselves. We loved messing around on the rides and being a nuisance. It was a great place to meet pals you had not seen for a while and I bumped into a few who had some girls with them. It wasn't long before I was treating these girls to some of the rides and we had a lot of fun together.

One of the girls was a striking, pretty little thing and I took a real shine to her; talk about second glance, I couldn't keep my eyes off her. One of my pals was not too pleased with this as she was his girl. We all left the Fair together and walked down Castlegate, where we sat on a wall while having a chat. I made sure I sat beside the pretty girl I had taken a fancy to. It wasn't long before I was holding her hand, but behind our backs, out of sight. Her boyfriend was not fooled. He looked behind us and saw what we were up to; he just made light of it because he knew if he took me on in a fight, he stood no chance. He took her to one side and spoke to her in a shop doorway. After a few moments the girl ran off. My pal returned to me looking glum. He said, "She doesn't want to go out with me any more. She fancies you." This was to be the start of a lovely six year courtship with this young lady, who in spite of my fiery temper and evil ways, in spite of my ups and downs, loved me through it all to become my wife Faith. How glad I was to have her as I was soon called up into the Army and sent to the Middle East. Faith would send me a letter every day and kept faithful to me all the time I was in Egypt. Every night she would call into my home and spend time with my mother.

There is a saying, 'It takes one to know one,' and the army knew what it was doing putting me on motor cycle patrol to guard stockpiles and goods in transit. I knew all the Arab drivers' tricks, like towing each other across the desert and selling the fuel they had saved. Of course, when I stopped them, they should have been sacked, but I had other plans for the fuel they had stolen. So I just sent them off with a flea in their grateful ear. I just could not let the chance of some easy money pass me by!

Returning from my National Service I got my job back with Balfour Beatty and it was not long before I married. A lot of my life was hidden from Faith, the stealing, the lying and deception, the violence; only when I was caught out, was my real self exposed. After a year our first born son, David arrived. Faith wanted him christened. How I hated that service and was glad to get away from all that gabbling! But four years later I was to return, again at Faith's insistence as she wanted Sandra, our daughter, christened. We arrived really early at St. Mary's Parish Church, Newark, and found the church empty. After sitting for a while, I had the strangest feeling come over me. I felt so unclean, as though I didn't belong in there, it was as if I'd just walked into someone's posh lounge wearing dirty boots and clothes. My life had been one long catalogue of bad things, but I had never felt like this before, not just dirty but offensively dirty to God. I found myself apologizing and saying that it wouldn't be long before I was out of His church. The thoughts going through my mind were unbelievable. Here was I, a man with no time for God, actually talking to Him, saying, "I know this church belongs to your people and I have no right to be here mucking it up. I'll be gone just as soon as this service is over. I'm sorry I am so sorry." This was a whole new experience for me. Nothing like this had ever happened to me. Just what was going on?

That Sunday night I decided to go to the pictures. Arriving outside The Palace, I started chatting to a pal who was waiting for his blind date he had fixed up. His girl never did show up, so he asked me to go to the Savoy cinema, as there was a much better picture on. We set off and walked through Newark Market Place. A woman standing in The Market handed me a piece of paper as I walked passed her. She said, "Can I speak with you?" Without waiting for my reply she said, "Can I talk to you about Jesus?" I replied, "No way, I've no time for religion; it's a load of hypocrisy." The lady countered, "I wanted to talk to you about Jesus. You see he wasn't religious, neither was He a hypocrite." This made my ears prick up and made me wonder what she was on about, so I said, "Go on, then. What do you want to tell me?" My mate chipped in saying, "Come on, we're not going to listen to her". That was the wrong thing to say to me; you could ask me but no-one was going to tell me to do anything. I said, "If I want to listen to her, I shall listen to her." My mate was swearing and telling me what I should say to her. What he was saying was full of obscenities, so I rounded on him, saying, "If you tell her that, I shall thump you." He stormed off. This left me on my own with the lady a few feet away. She spoke to me again, telling me about Jesus and that He loved me.

She then invited me to a meeting that was being held in a house just around the corner. Thinking I had nowhere else to go now and nothing to lose, I decided to go with her. Boy, was that an experience! The room of this house was full of people. There was a grand piano being played, a violin, tambourines and someone on a piano accordion. People were happy and singing and shouting, "Hallelujah!" When that song ended, one after another these people got up and said what Jesus had done in their life. I am not sure what it was, but as I walked home that night I just felt different. I hadn't done anything or said anything; I just knew something was different inside me.

When I arrived home Faith asked me what the picture was like. I told her I had not been to the pictures, I'd been to church. She laughed at me, telling me not to be so daft and asking what the picture was like. I told her again I hadn't been to the pictures, I'd been to church. That was the only thing I could think to call it, even though it was in a house. Then I told her I was going again.

All that week at work I wished the days away, and wanted Sunday to come so I could go back to that house. There was something that had wet my appetite to find out more about this. The next Sunday I received a tremendously warm welcome. There was genuine gladness in seeing me there, but I think some were surprised to see me come back. During the meeting an Indian man got up and spoke, talking about the goodness of God and the power of God working in peoples' lives. Then he suddenly said, "Is there anyone in the room who doesn't know Jesus as their Saviour, but would like to?" If what this man had just told us about God was the truth, then I wanted to know this Jesus. I was straight on to my feet and walking to the front. I found an empty chair and knelt beside it. I tried to pray, but words would not come. Everything was black, like a dark cloud. Feeling a tap on the shoulder, I looked up to see an older man. He asked me if I would like to go with him into another room to pray. I went upstairs with him and knelt beside a bed. He said, "Is something troubling you?" I replied, "A voice." He said, "What is the voice saying?" I again replied, "My left hand pocket." He said, "What's in your left hand pocket?" I said, "Nothing, well nothing of any consequence". He said, "Well, what is actually in there?" I replied, "Just my cigarette case and a lighter." He said, "Would you give them to me?" I said, "Yes." He then went on to say, "Would you mind if I disposed of them?" for some reason I agreed and just let him take them out of the room. As he did so I started to cry. I sobbed and sobbed and cried out to God to forgive me for all my wickedness. I asked the Lord to come in and be my saviour. I was so sorry for all my sinfulness. I wept for a long time. This man who had returned into the room came across to me and just hugged me. I felt as if I had just been set free. It was a sensation as though all my body had been seized up and someone had come along and cleaned all my joints and oiled them. What a wonderful new freedom I could feel throughout my body. I was just so happy Inside. Looking back on this now, I know that was the moment when I was born again. I had never known a peace like this inside me.

Walking home, I was enjoying this new feeling within me when I so clearly heard a voice. I knew it was the same one that had spoken to me in that upstairs bedroom. I stopped dead in my tracks on Barnbygate. The voice spoke saying, "I have forgiven you. Now I want you to ask this man to forgive you." I realised I was almost at the door of a man I hated, This man had given my father a terrible beating and left him in mess and I had vowed to kill him, I would avenge my father even if I was to hang for it. I had tried many times to get this man on his own. I had kicked and beaten on his door but he would never answer. Day after day I had tried to get him, I was obsessed with thinking of ways to trap him and of what I would then do to him once I had got him. I just didn't want to forgive him. In my mind he was the guilty one; he needed forgiveness, not me.

I tried to avoid the front door of his house by crossing over and going into the toilets opposite. As soon as I came out I was confronted by the sight of his door. I knew I had to knock on it. In my mind I was still saying, "He is the one who did wrong-it's he who should be asking forgiveness." Then I heard that clear voice repeat the words, "I have forgiven you. Now you go and ask his forgiveness for what you have threatened to do to him." I knew this was God. I went and knocked on the man's door. As soon as it opened, there stood the man I had vowed to murder and he knew what I had planned for him. He tried to the slam the door closed, but he wasn't fast enough. I got my foot in the door and my shoulder against it as I shouted to him telling him, "I haven't come to fight with you but to ask your forgiveness." He couldn't push against me and gave up his struggle and let the door open. I said, "I want to come in. I want to talk to you". He let me follow him into the room. His wife was sitting there, glaring at me with an evil look in her eyes, If that could have killed me, it would have done. I said, "Bill, I've come to ask your forgiveness for what I've threatened to do to you. Bill, tonight I've made peace with God and given my heart to Jesus and I need your forgiveness, I'm sorry for everything that's ever happened between us and I forgive you for what you did to my dad." Bill said, "I forgive you, Fred." He stretched out his hand and shook mine. I turned to his wife to shake her hand; although she was more reluctant, we shook hands and I left. Outside, I knew everything that was wrong in my past was gone. I had been given a brand new start. What joy and peace filled me as I made my way home.
3 FRED CHANGED!

On arriving home I could not wait to tell my wife, Faith, what I had done and that I was going to be with Jesus when I died. She found all this very difficult. I think she liked me better the way I had been before. Whether I was right or not I don't know, but I kept telling her she must be saved and that I really wanted her to go to Heaven when she died. She did agree to come with me to the meetings and got on well with the people there. She enjoyed the service, laughing at the stories the pastor would tell. Faith was such a good living girl, she couldn't seem to see the fact that even her goodness was not God's standard of righteousness and that she also needed saving. All the wrong things in my life were so obvious to her, and she only saw a few of them, but she continued to struggle with the idea that we all needed to be saved and be made right with God.

I was at this time working for a dairy. On Mondays it was my practice to arrive first at work, refuel and check that all the vehicles would start for the men coming in, then make a pot of tea. When this was ready, I would call the men across to the loading platform, where it had become my habit to stand on the ramp and tell them all the filthy jokes I had heard over the weekend. I shouted across the yard and saw the men come towards me, grinning in expectation of the entertainment I would normally provide. I held my hands in front of me gesturing the men to stop. I stood as usual but this time said, "Hold on, I've got something to tell you. I shall not be going out with you any more." I gestured down the yard to The White Hart pub and continued, "I won't be going in there with you any more. There will not be any more dirty jokes. Last night I gave my heart to Jesus and I'm born again and I'm starting a brand new life." I could hear sniggers from some of the spineless ones who would never dare challenge me on their own, but I didn't mind. I just wanted to tell folk what Jesus had done, and everywhere I went, no matter who it was I saw, I told them.

During the following days I would meet with the same man who had prayed with me to become a Christian. He took me under his wing, asking what had happened to me in the week. As I told him, he would then relate it to incidents in the bible, he taught me how to trust in God's word and how a young Christian would grow if he stood on that word. He taught me about prayer, fasting and reading the Bible. He then told me about water baptism and I wanted to know if there was anything to stop me being baptised. He assured me there was nothing to stop me, So that following Saturday, six days after I had given my heart to Jesus, I was baptised in the River Trent at Kelham, near Newark. We returned from the baptism to an all night prayer meeting.

My heart was so full of thanks and love for Jesus, I just wanted to speak it out in prayer, but somehow, try as I might, the words would not come out. My tongue seemed to stick in my mouth. A man in the meeting seeing something of my problem, came across to me and placed his hand on my shoulder. He told me that God was filling me with His Holy Spirit and I was to speak out the words, not English, but words the Holy Spirit would give me. This man was still speaking as I felt a tremendous flood of power come into my body. I shook all over and words came rolling out of my mouth, words of a language I did not know or understand. The words just flowed and poured out from me. At five o'clock in the morning when I got to bed, this flood of words still poured out from me. I was so excited about what God was doing with me, and I had been such a rebel! What joy filled my heart! I was filled to overflowing.

My head had hardly touched the pillow that Sunday morning when it was time to get up for work at the dairy. Although my main job was a mechanic, I was required to do a small number of bulk milk deliveries. That morning I was driving my fully loaded milk lorry through Newark town centre. On entering the Market Square, I was singing a new song I had learnt at the church; 'Lost to God I wandered with no fear of sin, Often thoughts of judgement thundered from within.' I spotted a policeman standing in a doorway, but continued singing. As I got to an exciting part of the chorus, I gave an extra strong pull on the steering wheel as I wanted to turn off down a side street. It was at that moment every milkman's nightmare started. From behind me, I heard crates sliding across the bed of the lorry and then that deathly silence when your heart stops for a few moments, just before the shattering crash, as two crates full of bottles smashed onto the road. The bottles disintegrated into hundreds of pieces. I continued to sing my chorus, although now a little subdued by this incident. Whilst carefully picking up the broken glass, I sensed that the policeman was now standing behind me. I did not turn, but continued to pick up the broken glass as I sang. My mind was no longer on the chorus, but I was imagining the policeman with his note book open, writing down my details and reporting me for having an insecure load. The last of the debris cleared up, I turned to face the policeman, but to my amazement and delight there was no one there!

During that week The Lord started to speak to me. I remember clearly one morning, while I was doing a repair on a Morris Commercial lorry. A voice spoke to me saying, "You have seven days a week; I want you to give me one of them." At the dairy there was no compromise, it was seven days a week or nothing, so I knew I would have to leave. There were plenty of jobs, particularly for a motor mechanic, and I determined to go to the Labour Exchange. I stopped work and as I collected my tools together, I made a pact with God; in my mind I had said, "You want me to do this, so whatever the first job the Labour Exchange offer me, that is the one I will take." I believed this would be the job God wanted me to have.

I went straight to the labour exchange. The man interviewing me seemed delighted I was a motor mechanic as he had lots of vacancies. The first card he pulled out was a job at Beckingham, a small village some six miles from my Newark home. I told him that would do me, but he retorted that I wouldn't want it when I knew what the wages were. He pulled out a pile of cards telling me there were better jobs to be had, but I told him that the Beckingham job was the one I wanted. No wonder he could not understand me and got a bit annoyed, as he informed me that the job offered only seven pounds a week; that would be a take home pay of six pounds thirteen shillings and three pence and I had to find my own transport to work and back.

I must explain here that in my unsaved state I had loved the hire purchase people. I would see something I fancied, then make an agreement to pay over a two year period and after paying the smallest deposit permitted, that would be the last they would see of me. I had no intention of paying another penny off. The demands in the post for money were put straight on the fire. I had no worries with their claims and by this time I owed four pounds a week in hire purchase agreement. This was a lot of money in 1952. Not only had I taken a drop in pay from the dairy, but as I had stopped stealing, it meant a further drop in my income.

It took me about two hours to walk to work each day, very nice in the summer, but in the rain and biting winter winds, getting to work became an ordeal. I could never understand how the wind would blow against me all the way to work, then as I set off to walk home, it would change direction and blow against me all the way. My work at the garage was split up into motor mechanics and delivering Calor Gas bottles to homes and businesses in the area. This delivery work allowed me the chance to meet with lots of people and tell them what Jesus had done for me, so I loved this part of the job. However, back at the garage it was a different story. My foreman was a small man of Italian descent and he would delight in spending his whole day ridiculing me about my faith in Jesus. It just did not seem possible that one man could think up so many nasty things to do and say to me. Of course I did not enjoy this constant attack on my beliefs, but I knew God had His hand on the situation and was teaching me how to control my violent temper.

It was fortunate for my foreman that God was changing me from that violent and aggressive person I was, into what he wanted me to become. It was a breaking time for me, a time to submit, a time to forgive, a time not to harbour grudges or resentment. My response to my foreman's hostility surprised even me. One day I saw him spraying his own car. He was impatient and not making a very good job of it. He was cursing the job, and all the staff, knowing he was in a bad mood, kept well out of his way. I had completed my tasks for the day and felt prompted to help him, so I picked up some wet and dry paper and started rubbing and cleaning the paintwork down. Although I spent a lot of time on his car which resulted in a very nice paint job, I got no thanks. I had not expected any, so I suppose I was not disappointed. I had helped my foreman because I believed God had prompted me and was bringing me under control, changing me to become less like the old Fred and more like the new Fred He wanted me to be.

Working at the garage had both its serious and humorous sides. One Saturday afternoon I was asked to do a Calor Gas demonstration showing off all the appliances at The Vicarage in Brant Broughton. I remember it was a cold day and I was feeling unwell. I sat in the garden with my display but there was very little interest and my mind started wandering. I watched the visitors passing by. Just a few yards away a cat was sitting on a window ledge. Across the courtyard was a young lady walking a dog on a lead. Suddenly a most terrible thought of a sexual nature came into my mind, the sort of idea I would have enjoyed before I had become a Christian. Fortunately at the fellowship, we had been taught how to deal with this kind of thing, to recognise that it was an attack of Satan and use the authority given to us as Christians to rebuke it. I took a deep breath and steeled myself to face this attack and with all the determination and authority I could muster. I said in the silence of my mind, "Satan, in the name of Jesus I rebuke you". At that very moment the cat which had been sitting quietly leaped with a screech into the air. It could not possibly have heard me as I had not spoken audibly. The cat then tore across the courtyard and attacked the dog with such venom and ferocity that the dog just went crazy and fled past me. Its lady owner was sobbing uncontrollably as her dog sustained some kind of fit. The local vet was quickly summoned and was able to reassure the lady that her dog would live. It had been an amazing spectacle, and what a swift response there had been to my rebuke! Whatever spirit it had been, it had been effectively dealt with. I thanked God for the power He has given us in the name of Jesus. What authority!

One of the reasons why I was vulnerable to this kind of attack may be that the majority of my weakness stemmed from sexual desire in my younger life. Thoughts like wanting to own a brothel and this kind of idea would bring me satisfaction. I felt these thoughts had their roots in my being sexually abused my two men when I was a child. The fellowship had given us clear teaching on our weaknesses and instructed us that no matter how long you had been a Christian you must avoid the environment of your old weakness. For example, if you had been a drunk, then keep out of pubs; if a smoker, then keep clear of smoke filled rooms. So I kept clear of sexual literature that would play on my old weakness.

No matter how careful we are to protect ourselves from our weakness, the day will surely come when our resolve will be tested to the limit. Such a day came for me. I was delivering bottled gas in the rural area around Newark. It was a lovely warm day and I had my sleeves rolled up as I fitted the new gas to an appliance. I was approached by the young housewife living there. I was left in doubt as to what she wanted. She did not beat about the bush, but told me she wanted me. She wanted to go to bed with me. She went on to tell me she wanted satisfying because her husband had another woman and had stopped making love to her. She kept trying to persuade me, but I responded my giving her my testimony of how Jesus had changed me, Yes, there was a time when I would have asked her to go to bed with me before she had a chance to suggest it, but Jesus had turned my life around. As I told her that Jesus loved her, I was not sure how she would react to my turning down her advances; would she turn violent or make a scene? In the event she had only one thing on her mind and it was me! I got back in my cab hoping to make good my escape, but still she continued to tempt me; reaching through the cab window she stroked my arm and tried to pull me back to the house. She kept on trying to get me to go with her. As I drove off I thanked God for His grace that protected and saved me from falling into this great temptation. I knew He had been very close to me that day and I am glad He still is.

One of the first things my fellowship encouraged us into was evangelism. This mainly took the form of open air work. The very next week after I had been saved and baptised we met at The Wharf, Newark. This area is like a small amphitheatre, with The Trent Bridge overlooking one side and a raised roadway on the other. It was an ideal place to attract the interest of passers by. This was all very new to me. I had never done anything like this before. The fellowship formed a circle and we sang choruses to the music of the pastor's piano accordion, accompanied by a few tambourines. When a chorus came to an end, one of the group would step forward and testify about what Jesus had done for them. After another chorus or two another would step forward and speak and so the meeting would go on. The next chorus came to an end and I looked around to see who would step forward to speak. I then felt a gentle push in my back, just enough to make me step forward; at the same time I heard Sister Dorothy's voice saying, "Go on then, get on with it". I was not expecting this. I looked around to be greeted by a horrifying sight; there leaning over railings overlooking me were all the men I had known from the motor trade. They recognised me as the one, who, when visiting their garages, would come out with a stream of dirty jokes. The thought came to me, "They must think I'm a right hypocrite!" In that moment an assurance came over me that I must just tell it how it is. I started by saying, "Some of you standing there know me, you know my past, you know exactly what I was like, but I want to tell you what has happened to me". I was able to tell them how Jesus had completely changed my life. I thank God for this incident. He took away my fear of confessing God before men and at the same time gave me a great love for open air evangelism.

Evangelism takes many forms. Sometimes I would go with my friend Neville and stop someone in the street or perhaps visit their homes, give them a tract and share with them about Jesus. One highlight I enjoyed at the fellowship was, 'Convention Time'. People would travel from France, India, Ceylon and all over England to converge on Newark. Apart from a great time of fellowship, it was a great time to spread the Good News of Jesus. As the fellowship lived by faith there was very little money to publicise this event or provide tracts for the visitors who would flood into Newark and the surrounding area. The fellowship started praying that God would provide the publicity, and He did! Roger from the fellowship was given two 'Adana' printing presses, He taught himself how to set up the type and pack it in a block ready for the press. The paper supply came as roll ends from the local newspaper, The Newark Advertiser. Of course there was still the ink; this was supplied courtesy of the local firm, Partners Press. It appeared they had received a consignment of ink that was faulty and could not be used for their quality type, but it was ideal for our newsprint quality.

I enjoyed helping Roger in this venture. He organised a print shop at the top of the fellowship house. It was like a production line. The paper was folded in such a way that with only two cuts the batch of paper was ready to size for printing. Both presses were used simultaneously, with part of the tract printed on one and the headings printed on the second. To save me fumbling or trying to separate sheets of paper between machines, Roger invented a method of picking up the flat sheets quickly. He used a small watch spring mounted on the first press that had the effect of lifting the corner of the paper, making it easy to handle and place on the second waiting press. So with prayer, materials and ingenuity, thousands of tracts were printed, providing an important means of reaching the community.

God had done so much for me during my first weeks as a Christian. Little did I realise at the time, but this was only a fraction of what He would have to do if I was to let Him be Lord of every part of my life. I am so glad He did not overwhelm me at once with everything that needed changing, but gently showed me the next matter He wanted sorting out. I was so glad Jesus had dealt with my smoking immediately I gave my heart to Him and had given my cigarettes and lighter to that man who had prayed for me. You see it was not just a smoking habit I had but a real addiction to nicotine. I could not live without cigarettes and my personality would change. I would become stupid and impossible to live with. I became so desperate that if I could not afford cigarettes, I would even go looking for cigarette ends in the gutter to light up to satisfy my craving. As I look back over the forty years since that wonderful day, I can honestly say I have never had the desire for another cigarette. That craving and very real addiction was completely taken from me.

My wife Faith was to tell me about another change that had taken place in me. I have already told you about my filthy language. It was said that my language could set a haystack on fire from a thousand yards! One lorry driver commented to me saying, "Brewer, I have never, ever, met anyone with a mouth like yours," and this was a lorry driver speaking! Faith said to me, "I don't understand what's happened to you, but I know it's real, because instead of cursing and swearing in your sleep during the night, you are talking about Jesus." God was doing a deep work and doing what I could not do for myself. He was changing my mind, even deep in my subconscious I was being cleansed from years of filthy rubbish. More than anything else, this change showed Faith that what was happening to me was real.

About this same time I heard a voice of doubt speaking which really was to trouble me. I would ask myself, "Have I been brainwashed? Or is what has happened not real? Have I been fooled and had the wool pulled over my eyes?" These doubts took a hold of me until I was not sure what was real and what wasn't, or what was the truth. I didn't know what to do or how to handle this. The thought came to me that I needed to get a Bible. Of course I had never owned one. What would a man like I had been ever want with a Bible? I saved up the one pound I needed and went to Stennet's in the Market Square. This one pound seemed such a lot of money and yet I knew I had to do this. The thoughts of doubt gave me no rest and I cried inside to God for help as I entered the shop. When I asked for a Bible, I was surprised and perplexed when the shopkeeper showed me so many different kinds. I thought there was only one, but the lady, sensing my problem, handed me one, telling me that was the kind she used. I was happy to agree, not knowing anything about this subject. As soon as I got outside the shop I wanted to look at my Bible. It was all clean and the pages seemed held together in a solid block. Whilst I was turning the Bible over in my hand, the pages suddenly parted and opened wide, showing the printed page. My eyes fell on the words, 'Now ye are clean through the word which I have spoken unto you.' These words just jumped off the page at me! I laughed, I cried. God had heard my plea. He made my experience with Him so clear. I had been washed clean and given a new start. I was a new creation. He had given me a strong assurance that what He had done in me was real. Oh, the joy as I made my way home with no doubting voices to haunt me!

God was soon talking to me about other matters that concerned Him in my life. When I say talking, it was not an audible voice, but thoughts impressed on my mind and I knew they were not my thoughts. I would go into our living room and see something sitting there that I had stolen. God just seemed to prompt me with the words, "That's not yours." I would turn away and look somewhere else or even go to the kitchen and again look at something, only to receive another prompt, "That's not yours." I spoke to Faith, saying, "I can't have this stuff in the house anymore." "Why ever not," she replied. I had to tell her, "Well, I've nicked it; I've stolen it and I've got to take it back." As I pointed out other things around the house I had stolen I said, "And that, and that." I didn't know how I was going to get all that stuff back and I could not work out what I should do, so I started talking to Jesus about it. I told Him I wanted to take it all back but didn't know how to. Again that same impression came in my mind. He was speaking inside me and saying, "How did you steal it?" I knew I had taken it a little at a time from a warehouse in the early hours of the morning. God seemed to impress on my mind that I was to take it back the same way I had taken it, so that's exactly what I did, until I had returned every last thing I had stolen. It made our house look quite bare! I often wondered what I would say to the police, had they caught me returning the stolen property! I also had to return some money I had stolen from another place and I sensed a great relief as I returned it.

You can quickly work out that I didn't have a lot to live on with a weekly pay of six pounds thirteen shillings and three pence. Of that, four pounds went to pay the hire purchase and twelve shillings and six pence the rent for the house. Then after the gas and electricity bills had been paid very little was left for food. We always made sure our two children were fed, but often I would walk to work without having eaten, and have no lunch and nothing to look forward to eat after my walk home. Faith by this time had also given her heart to Jesus and we would pray over the bills. God gave her wisdom in which one to pay first, or perhaps to offer a part payment, until we could settle the account. When you have no money, it seems the wrong time for God to start teaching you about money and provision, yet that is exactly what He did.

It really started at church when the pastor was teaching on giving God His portion, what he called, 'Tithing.' Faith and I discussed this and felt it was right to give a pound a week; it seemed an awful lot and we had lots of things we could have spent that pound on. Faith was the money manager in our house and the first thing she would do with my pay would be to take the pound out for church, then the rent money. Although we had prayed for God to help us, we were to be constantly surprised at His miraculous provision. On one occasion I knew there was very little coal left in the cellar at my last visit; I guessed we could manage for about two days. I would ask my son, David to bring some coal from the cellar, almost fearing to go down myself because of the shortage. He would return saying, "There's still some left." Even he realised something strange was happening to our coal! David would delight in telling us, "There's still some left." This continued until we had saved enough money for a coal delivery.

There always seemed to be some need in my growing family, so thinking what I could do about this, I decided to go and sell all my fishing tackle. It raised the princely some of four pounds, Oh, I did feel rich and pleased with my sale! The next day was Sunday, so putting the money safely in my back pocket, we all set off for church. As soon as we sat down, I knew something was wrong. I could not take my eyes off the free will offering box, a collection box for God's work. When it came to the end of the meeting, I dug into my back pocket, pulled out the four pounds then placed it in the offering box. I knew God was telling me to go to Him first and not to sell things to make ends meet. Learning to trust Him completely for everything was not an easy lesson to learn.

It was exciting to see God's provision to us in so many different ways, even in the little things. One such time was when our son David asked for a biscuit but we had none in the house. The only money we had was three pence, so we sent him to the corner shop to buy a three penny packet of biscuits. Now the lady at the shop took quite a shine to our David as he reminded her of her own son when he was young. David returned from the shop with a large bag of biscuits, telling us that the lady did not sell three penny bags of biscuits and would these broken ones do? Well, we opened them to find them all whole and very tasty-we did enjoy them! Many would write this off as nothing, but we believed God had His hand on us, providing for our needs.

God's different ways of providing for us were a constant source of amazement. Like the day I was on my Calor gas round. I had almost finished my delivery for that day when I was compelled to visit a customer who had not ordered any gas. It was at the end of a long bumpy farm track. The farm worker greeted me in the yard, then shouted to his wife, "Mother, there's a gas man here. Did we order any?" "No", she replied, "But the gas mantle on the kitchen lamp needs fixing." I went in and soon repaired the lamp. The farmer said, "Hey, come and have a look at this." He showed me into the back room and there hanging from the ceiling was a whole chine of bacon. "What do yer think to that?" he asked. "It's lovely," I replied. He went on to tell how it was his own pig. He had fed it well and now killed it, salted and cured it himself. He asked me, "Do you like bacon?" "I do." I replied, my mouth watering at the thought of it. This man turned and shouted through the door, "Mother, bring them steps in." He climbed the steps, lifted the chine of bacon off the hook and lowered it down into my waiting arms saying, "Here, you'll enjoy this." What a celebration we enjoyed as I arrived home!

The surprises kept coming. I recall one day feeling really hungry as I delivered gas to a lady customer in Navenby, near Lincoln. She held out her hand and dropped a shilling in mine. She then said, "Here, take this. I don't ever give money away and I don't know why I'm giving it to you." I thanked her and made a bee-line for the chip shop where I bought a bag of chips and returned to sit in my van to relish each bite; they did taste good. Many times I went for a few days without food as God's grace filled and satisfied me, but there were times when hunger and my thought of something meaty and juicy would occupy my mind. Driving through the village of Brant Broughton one day, my attention was attracted by something on the top of the hedge. The thought came into my mind, "That's mine." Stopping the van, I went to look more closely, to find a big fat wood pigeon. It had been shot and was just perched there on top of the hedge, but not for long. It was soon on its way to Newark for another celebration with my family!

It was not just provision I was able to thank God for. One Saturday whilst delivering gas bottles in Leadenham, a village in Lincolnshire, the lorry I was driving came to a grinding halt. Try as I might, I could not engage gear and the grating noise from the engine sounded serious. It was almost my finishing time and I had visions of being two or three hours late home. The thought of my being late and of missing the evening church meeting was really upsetting me. As a young Christian no one had told me whether or not you could pray for a broken down lorry, so without hesitation I placed one hand on the bonnet and asked Jesus to help me get the lorry back to the garage. I jumped in the cab and depressed the clutch; the gear engaged as the lorry rolled forward. I was able to drive all the way back to the Beckingham garage. As I entered the forecourt the foreman stepped out of my path, waving me to a parking place. The broken clutch was reported to the foreman who agreed to look at it the next day, which was Sunday, my day off. On my return to work on Monday, I was greeted by a funny look from the foreman. He told me that the clutch plate had completely disintegrated, and there was no way I could have driven the lorry back from Leadenham. He had forgotten I had driven past him on the forecourt.
4 USED BY GOD IN HOSPITAL

During my first few weeks as a Christian, I experienced a sharp contrast of emotions; firstly, knowing the love and joy of the presence of Jesus in my life together with the security of being received into the fellowship of the church. Secondly the feelings of rejection and hurt as even close friends turned their backs on Faith and myself. I was so determined to follow Jesus. I felt this was just part of the price that had to be paid. The fellowship was very understanding and supportive through this time. I grew from strength to strength as a Christian. My faith increased as I saw prayer answered and I knew a period of great joy and freedom. My zeal to tell everyone about Jesus knew no bounds. Unfortunately my zeal was not always tempered with wisdom.

One morning I woke to a very different feeling. I felt so low, like a run down battery. I didn't like it and I was greatly troubled by this dark depression. After a fellowship meeting, I went to the prayer room. There, already on her knees, was Sister Dorothy praying. She looked up at me and asked if something was troubling me. I told her how I felt. She set me down and explained how God had done so much for me in such a short time, supplying needs and answering prayer, that my feelings were very intense, and it was not always good to rely on feelings. She explained that, 'The just shall live by faith' and it was time for me to start believing in God, even when there was no feeling, seeing or hearing. Her gentle prayer over me was the beginning of my walking and living by faith. Her prophecy for me was that I would be used by God. This was a great encouragement. That day I learnt not only the lesson of walking by faith and not by feelings, but recognised the importance of young Christians having Christian Mothers and Fathers in the faith to encourage, guide and warn. In my heart I asked God to train me, so one day my wife and I might become spiritual parents.

Meanwhile, God continued to guide me into the place of His choice. It was while I was working at the Beckingham garage that I developed a medical condition that the doctor diagnosed as lumbago. He told me I would have to get a job where I could keep warm and that a cold, damp garage was the worst place I could be. I applied locally to become a student nurse, but at the interview The Matron informed me that it would be impossible to maintain my wife and two children on the student nurse salary. She then went on to say she had been considering for some time appointing a man on permanent nights as both a ward and theatre orderly. If I accepted the job I would receive training during the day shifts and when this was complete, I would commence nights. I agreed to accept the position she offered. I told Mr. Keetley, the garage owner. He appeared relieved that I was going. It seemed that the business was not doing very well; work had dropped off and he was struggling to pay the wage bill. He confided that he had been in partnership with what he called a religious man who had stolen a lot of money from the business. This had almost finished him off and it was taking a long time to recover. I understood now why Mr. Keetley had been apprehensive at my initial interview when I told him I was a Christian.

I really enjoyed my new job at the local hospital. The first man I had to bath was a farm labourer from Barnby, a village just outside Newark. Whilst I was bathing him he was saying how marvellous the doctors were today and all the wonderful things they could do. I responded, "Yes, it is marvellous what they can do, but there's no one like our creator." He asked me what I meant, so I was able to tell him what Jesus would do for him if he would give his heart to him, and how God loved him. He listened to everything I had to say. After this man had undergone his operation he told me the doctor had discovered an inoperable cancer. I talked to him again, telling him of his need for a saviour. The next day I was delighted as he told me he had given his heart to Jesus. After his release from hospital I went to visit him at home. I was thrilled as he told me he had no fear of death and had been spending his time talking to his work mates about the love of Jesus and of what had happened to him. He was to die shortly after my visit.

As my training was now complete, I started working permanent nights. The staff soon found out I was a Christian and the Nursing Sister seemed to take exception to this and took an immediate dislike to me. She would do anything and everything to make my life difficult. She would give me what she considered to be the worst jobs. One of these was to sit with patients in their last hours before they died. When they stopped breathing I was to report to her, so she could in turn inform the doctor. Arriving for work one night, the sister delegated me to sit with a man who was in a coma and was not expected to live long. I sat by his bedside reading a book he had left on his locker. The thought came to me that if this man was basing his hope on the contents of this book, then he was going to a Christless eternity. I closed my eyes and prayed for him saying, "Lord, if you will just give me five minutes of this man's life, I'll tell him about Jesus. I knew medically there was no hope for this man and I wept for him.

As I looked up from praying, I saw this man open his eyes. He looked directly at me and said, "Hello, what are you doing here?" I said, "I've come to tell you about Jesus." He shook his head at me and said, "No, you see you don't understand." I replied, "Actually I do understand, but I don't think you do. I would like to tell you about the love of Jesus." I just simply told him the story of Calvary and how Jesus had died for him because He loved him. I then said, "Do you believe that Jesus Christ died to forgive you all your sin?" He answered very clearly, "Yes I do." He then closed his eyes and died. I knew that God had given me five minutes of that man's life and in that time exchanged his eternal destination from Hell to Heaven. This was to be one of many opportunities and I counted it a privilege when Sister would give me these tasks.

This Sister continued to have a bad attitude towards me. She told lies which caused trouble resulting in my being summoned before the Matron. The only way I knew how to deal with this was to pray for this Sister. My shifts were at that time of twelve hours duration, and as I was only paid for ten hours, I had to take two hours off in the middle of the night. Newark General Hospital has a tower which contains a small room known as Annie's room and it was here that I would spend my two hours on my knees praying for this Sister. I asked God to forgive her for what she was doing and to keep my heart right towards her. Still she continued to tell lies, cause me problems and give me work which was not part of my job. Suddenly one night she went missing from the ward. The staff were all chattering about her and it appeared that she had gone into the office where she was crying. This Sister had such a serious nervous breakdown that she never worked again. Although I had asked God to forgive her, He had dealt with the situation in His own way. A new Night Sister was appointed. She was Victorian in her ways and kept a very strict regime. I warmed to her straight away; she was a lovely person and everything was done correctly and efficiently. She lifted morale and was the kind of person you wanted to please; you would do anything for her.

One night on the surgical ward, we had bedded and settled the patients down for the night. All the lights had been switched off and a single blue light was set up in the corner of the ward where the young duty nurse and I would keep an eye on everything. As I went to sit beside the nurse working there, I said, "God's a really good God you know!" She didn't answer. I turned and saw she was crying, really sobbing. She asked between deep sobs, "When will I know when I'm saved?" I said, "You already are." I knew while we had been working together that she had given her heart to the Lord.

God was to bring many people across my path that He wanted to share His love with. One man was admitted after an accident at the local glue factory. He had been so seriously scalded by high pressure boiling water, that all his clothing had been ripped off. In those days, no matter how serious the condition, it was dealt with at Newark. We nursed the man, but due to his terrible injuries he had lost the will to live. I would spend hours at his bedside talking to him about Jesus. Sometimes he wanted to talk so I would just sit there and listen. It was a long time before he was well enough to be released and sadly the trauma appeared to have affected him mentally. After his discharge he suffered a relapse and was found wandering in town calling, "Just take me to Fred." I was glad to have been of some comfort to him and to encourage him to have the will to live, but I was also interested in the comfort of his soul.

My job did have its amusing moments. Just outside Newark there is a village called Kelham where an order of monks lived. One of these monks visited the hospital with severe stomach pain. The area of the pain suggested it was appendicitis and I was asked to prepare him for an emergency operation. ('prep. him', as it was called) Whilst 'prepping' him I told him how I got, 'born again' and what God had done for me; how He had taken me from a life of sin and corruption and given me a whole new life. The surgeon came to give the monk a final examination before the operation, but the pain had vanished and The surgeon was unable to find anything wrong with him, so he was discharged the following morning.

That evening another monk came to the hospital from Kelham with exactly the same symptoms. The doctor again diagnosed appendicitis. I was told to prep. him for an operation. During the prep. I told him about the love of God and I told him my testimony of how God had changed me. Once again the specialist came in for the final examination and again the pain had gone, so the monk was discharged and sent back to Kelham! This same sequence of events was to occur at least three times that I can remember; each time the monk was returned to the monastery without pain. These events appeared comical at the time but I believed God had been delivering a message, that it was possible, even monks in monasteries not to have heard the good news of Jesus.

I knew God was calling me to a period of full time ministry, so I worked my notice at the hospital and left. Some time later I felt a strong urge to return to the hospital. I asked permission of the Night Sister if I could visit to say my last farewells. I walked down the familiar corridor and entered the surgical ward, where I had spend most of my time. It was bathed in the same gloomy blue light. My eyes quickly adjusted to reveal the accustomed face of a friendly night nurse. During our conversation she informed me that one of our old patients was back on the ward. I quietly walked down the ward and renewed our acquaintance. As I made my way from his bed and was passing other patients, my attention was drawn to a weather beaten old man. He looked distressed as he sat bolt upright, staring at me. (My name for older men on the ward had been 'poppet') so I said, "Now then, poppet, can't you get to sleep?" He Said, "No, no I can't. I'm a tramp and a wicked old tramp at that! I've led such a wicked life and I've been praying and asking God to forgive me, but how can God forgive a wicked old man like me?" I just knew why I was there, in that ward, at that time! I said to him, "The first time you asked God to forgive you, He forgave you." The response was immediate, his face lit up as he replied, "Did He really?" I told him the story of Calvary and prayed with him. As I left, I told him I would return to see him the next day, during the daytime. He asked me would I promise, so I promised him I would see him the very next visiting time.

The next day I waited in the hospital corridor with the visitors. As the ward doors opened, I could see this man peering at every face until he saw me. His face was beaming with a cheeky grin as I went to him. He greeted me with the words, "I've been praying all day again today." My heart dropped as I felt he had not understood that he had been forgiven. He then laughed and said, "But not for me, for all these men, that they might get what I have got." He pointed around the ward and continued saying, "I know I'm going to be with Jesus." I stopped with him until the end of visiting time was signalled by a bell. I parted saying, "Poppet, I will come to see you at visiting time tomorrow." He said, "Promise." I replied, "Promise." The very next day I waited in the visitors queue for the ward doors to open. As the time came the queue surged forward and the ward was filled with the noise of greetings and chatter. I entered to be greeted by a stark empty bed. I was oblivious to all the noise around me as I stood motionless looking at the clean white sheets on a freshly made bed. I knew what that meant! I pondered on God's love for a wicked old tramp. I whispered, "Thank you Lord."

5 GOD REVEALS HIDDEN THINGS

The church, or fellowship as we called it, was a Pentecostal movement, which had its roots in South India, and it was from there that the leaders had originated. I understand it all started when a missionary from England was working in Ceylon. He recognised potential in a young boy and arranged for him to attend school. The boy did very well, went on to further education and entered the ministry in one of the major established denominations. One day whilst in the pulpit preaching, The Holy Spirit came upon him and he began to speak in other tongues. His members were shocked and alarmed and put him out of the church. He quickly established a church, the emphasis of which was gospel preaching and living by faith. The church grew rapidly and many churches were established in Ceylon and South India, with over three thousand full time workers living by faith.

The tradition for the workers was to dress in white and everyone knew them as 'The White Ones.' Some of the church members came to England to be educated, at Oxford and other universities. These students were concerned at the poor moral and spiritual state of England and that miracles were neither seen nor expected in the churches. There was a sense of gratitude to those first English missionaries who had brought the good news of Jesus to their countries. The students wrote to their home churches sharing their concerns for England. This resulted in a great outpouring of prayer followed by the establishment of a number of fellowships in England. The fellowship I attended was everything a Pentecostal fellowship should be; It was characterized by effervescent and joyful praise, praising God with musical instruments and singing, sound Bible-based teaching, liberty and a tremendous zeal to share testimony of what God had done in people's lives. Manifestations of the Holy Spirit, tongues, interpretation, prophecy, words of knowledge, singing in the spirit, healings and other miracles were the norm. We expected these things to happen every time we met, and as we had not experienced any other church tradition, we knew nothing else.

The fellowship had a meeting hall just off Lombard Street in Newark town centre. This was ideally placed to allow anyone shopping or visiting town to call in for prayer, fellowship or just a cup of tea. The building consisted of a large meeting room, together with prayer, kitchen and dining rooms downstairs. Upstairs was accommodation used by the full time ministry team. There was a study, one male dormitory bedroom, one female dormitory and three smaller bedrooms. Eight workers shared these, with about forty using the ground floor rooms. I would describe the whole interior as very clean but basic and without any comforts.

Life for the full time workers I would describe as monastic, with a strict routine of prayer, Bible study, worship, visiting and evangelism. There were also household tasks to be done, such as scrubbing floors and cooking. The clothes were washed outside in the yard, whatever the weather. The ladies were asked to dress modestly in black, brown or navy blue. Their hair was to be tied in a bun and covered with a scarf. None of the workers had paid employment but lived by faith. This meant a total dependence on God's provision. No collections were taken at the meetings, although an offering box was available for anyone to make a gift towards the ministry. Days would pass without any food for the workers, then time after time, provision would be made. The diet was usually soup, bread or stew and occasionally a curry.

The Elders of this fellowship taught that those who wanted to become full time workers must become celibate. They quoted the scriptures about 'eunuchs for The Kingdom of Heaven's sake.' Faith and I, full of zeal for the Lord's work, felt we had to accept this as part of our service to Him. This was very hard for us as a young married couple deeply in love with each other. I realise now that this decision was made without much wisdom. As Faith and I grew in the Lord, we both desired to serve Him more. I was being used in open air evangelism in all the surrounding areas, Nottingham, Grantham and villages. We would ask ourselves the question, 'What more can we do for The Kingdom of God?' We prayed, and it seemed right to offer ourselves in full time ministry. The Elders of the church encouraged us to take this step.

Our move into the fellowship building seemed to happen very quickly. I resigned my job and set about selling everything that we owned. Together with my wife, two young children, and very little else we moved in. I recall being sent to the men's dormitory, sitting on a roll of lino that I had been unable to sell and bursting into tears. I thought of how we had struggled for years with hire purchase companies to pay for all our possessions, and now I had nothing to show for all my efforts. Other thoughts of missing the sexual comforts of married life, and other doubts about my decision, whispered into my mind. I got up and went to my sweetheart, Faith, and said, "If just one soul is saved from hell because of what we have done, then it will all be worthwhile. All the riches of Earth cannot buy the soul of a man or a woman."

We settled into the routine of living and working in the fellowship building and being involved in the ministry work. During the next two and a half years, I was taught the vitally important foundations for the Christian life. These principles and good habits were to stand me in good stead for the rest of my life. Three days in every week we spent praying and fasting. I was to experience a dimension and a depth of communion with God that would bring me into His awesome presence, the kind of presence where you dare not utter a word. As I drew near to Him, I got to know Him. I sensed His heart for this world. I cried His tears for the lost and learnt His will for my life. Part of our prayer life was to be engaged in all night prayer meetings; by this I mean all night, not giving up at two o'clock when one or two might start yawning and want to go to their beds.

There were so many needs for prayer. As we really got to know the young and new Christians, we became aware of so many problems in their lives. They had problems at home, recurring or besetting sin, debt or unemployment and many other things. No, prayer was not an optional extra, but an integral part of our lives, just as eating or sleeping. I remember the night I was saved, Sister Dorothy told me that very night a message would by sent to the fellowships in South India and Ceylon and thousands would be praying for me by name before the next day was over. The thought of this gave me a great confidence and assurance of my faith in Jesus. As I visualised the strength and power of all these men and women from another continent praying on my behalf, I resolved to play my part in God's family and pray for others.

Early each morning Sister Dorothy would wake us with the prayer bell. We would quickly get dressed and before getting washed or shaved, would spend an hour in prayer with our Lord. I witnessed the results of a healthy prayer life as the Lord brought me an understanding of the scriptures. It helped me in my walk with Him; by this I mean He kept that part of Fred that only He knew and saw, cleansed and ready to serve. It gave me wisdom and love in my role as husband and father. One of the more obvious effects of prayer in my life was the zeal and boldness God gave me in preaching the Gospel in the highways and byways, in city centre and on village green. It never ceased to amaze me how God would give me a relevant word to speak right into someone's situation. I found preaching the Gospel in Nottingham's market square, known locally as slab square, a great challenge. There were always a lot of hecklers, some very well educated, who would shout out comments or questions. I am the first to admit I didn't know all the answers, but I remembered the hecklers' questions, and made sure that next time I did have answers for them. This was a good school to learn in.

In her own way, my wife, Faith, grew in her Christian walk. She was indeed well named. Her faith grew and her expectation of God to move in situations increased. On one occasion Faith sat my daughter, Sandra, on the kitchen draining board while she washed her. Unbeknown to Faith I had just left my Ever Ready razor blade near where she was sitting. This blade had one sharp edge and the other with some metal folded over it, making that edge safe to touch. Sandra picked it up in her little hand and as Faith went for the razor blade, Sandra squeezed her hand close to her chest. Faith feared the worst but just gently touched the back of Sandra's hand and prayed. Sandra released the blade and held her hand out completely unmarked.

Sandra was to test my wife's faith again with another incident. A friend of ours had left a roll of undeveloped film in a container on the table. Sandra thought it would be a good idea to open the container and unroll the film. It was at that point Faith returned to the room to see about two feet of film dangling from Sandra's hands. Faith rolled it up and returned it to its container with a prayer. 'God, you made the dark and the light; you can put them back where they belong on this film.' Our friend later showed us his photographs; he was pleased with the results and so were we! A smile spread over his face as we told him the story of why we were so pleased with the results.

During my time in this fellowship, The Lord blessed me as I developed a very close relationship with a young man there, called Neville. This was no ordinary friendship, but one of those once in a lifetime special bonds. We became prayer partners and each Sunday we would find a quiet place, kneel down, and hold hands over a table or a bed and pray for all the members of the fellowship. We shared everything, even our innermost secrets, our hopes and fears, our failings, hidden sin and temptations.

I do not remember the day it started, but little by little a feeling of unease came over me. I could not put my finger on it. I was just troubled, troubled emotionally, spiritually and physically. I shared my concerns with Faith but she could not see any problem. As I prayed about this situation, my unease just increased. I examined myself. Was there some sin in my life? Was I slipping back into the ways of the world? I was just so uneasy in so many ways and I began to dry up spiritually. My prayer about my unease was to be answered in a most unexpected way! During the mornings, we received a lot of Bible teaching, particularly on the Book of Revelation. I entered the meeting room with Faith, equipped with Bible notebook and pencil, ready for the study. My attention was drawn to the chalkboard, where the pastor, who was a very good artist, had drawn a picture of The Beast (That is the Antichrist) and a third part of the stars drawn out from Heaven. I suddenly felt physically sick and quickly left the room, closely followed by Faith. I turned to her and said, "I think I know what's wrong. We know more about the Antichrist than we know about Jesus Christ!" We did not return to the Bible study. That night I went to bed in the men's dormitory as usual, but I was unable to sleep. As I lay awake, I felt a presence in the room, a presence that made me frightened. I wanted to use the toilet but delayed going, fearing to get out of bed. Eventually I had to get up. I sped down that long corridor to the toilet, praying and pleading for the Blood of Jesus to protect me. Oh, what a relief to return to the safety of my bed!

The very next morning I told Faith that I had made a mistake in coming to the Mission. She could not understand my concerns and did not see any problem. Her response was that if God had called us, why was I wanting to leave? With a distressed heart, I prayed. I pleaded with God to search my motives. Was it my weakness? Was I wanting an easier life? I begged God to help me, to show me what to do. That very night I had a dream. It was like a tremendous vision. I was in a beautiful church building, a typical church with a spire and sanctuary. I was inside, together with a large congregation. As I looked in front of me beyond the altar, a great crack appeared in the top right hand corner of the wall. It split wide open, running down to the left hand corner. The wall on my left suddenly cracked, again from corner to corner, then the wall to my right did the same. I jumped up in fear and turned around to see the door at the back of the church open. Standing just outside was a man in shining white clothing. He beckoned me with his finger, indicating to me to come outside and stand with him. When I awoke the dream was still vivid in my mind. I told Faith all about the dream; we were going to have to leave. She was not convinced by my dream and did not want to do anything without being sure it was right. She turned to me and said, "If God has told you to leave, why hasn't He told me?" I replied, "I am the head of our house and you have to honour that and trust me. God will only hold you responsible for that." Later, whilst reading her Bible, instead of reading the words, 'This is the day, rejoice and be glad in it', she actually read out the words wrongly, 'This is the way, rejoice and be glad in it.' She believed God had spoken to her in this and answered the fears and doubts of her heart.

I again prayed about the situation, asking Him why He was sending us out, why He had brought us there in the first place. That night my head had just touched the pillow when I started to dream. I was standing in a most fabulous white marble hall. All around me was beautifully figured marble. The pillars, floor and steps were spectacular. I was standing on a flight of steps which led down to a well area. Across the other side of this floor were steps leading to a raised area. I was looking around admiring the splendour of this structure, when I suddenly sensed movement opposite me. There in front of me I saw the stairs open up like the mouth of some giant creature. Peering inside, I was horrified to see a mass of rotting decay. Behind this facade of beauty, everything was disintegrating. My attention turned to the massive marble columns. One after another a tremendous crack appeared in them, running from top to bottom. As the cracks opened wide they exposed a great mass of decay. Although this decay had been hidden, it was being exposed and was so serious that it threatened the whole building.

I again awoke with the dream still clearly before me. God was indeed telling me to go, but I had no home, no money, no job or prospects; what was I to do? I was earnestly in prayer when one of the workers came to me and pressed a letter into my hand. It was from my friends, Roger and Gladys, who were now living in a small house in York. They had been in the ministry in the same fellowship in Newark. The letter read, 'Dear Fred and Faith, I just had to write this. I feel you are in trouble and part of your trouble is that you have nowhere to live. If this is so, then you are welcome to come and share our little home.' As I read the words a great sense of relief swept over me.

I went to see the elders of the church. They were not pleased with me, and were even less pleased when I told them about my two dreams. Their reaction was that I was using my imagination to make up pictures and that I was backsliding. During that interview, I was to learn what the Lord meant when he said that we are not to be unduly concerned about what we should say, when we are bought before Kings and governors. He gave me the answers to all their questions. They still tried to convince me that I was wrong. I said, "If I am wrong, I will go back to the foot of the cross and start all over again." Their reply was, "You can't do that", to which I responded, "You just watch me."

There is a scripture in, 1 Corinthians, chapter 10 verse 12 that reads, 'Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall'. No matter how strong some people seem, we must not stand on their strength, but on the word of God. Men are human and can be vulnerable when they are most spiritual. The leader had known such a place of blessing, but the enemy knew his weakest point-that was the doctrine of celibacy. Unless you really know God's call to be celibate, then you can end up by falling. If we do stop making love to our wives, it is to be by mutual consent and only for a fixed time that is to be set aside for prayer and fasting. Then we are to come together again lest Satan tempts us. Sexuality is a powerful force in our lives and sadly led to the downfall of the leader.

Some time later this leader, who was visiting England from Ceylon, summoned me to see him. This man was held in awe by all the fellowships. He had been greatly used and seemed a truly godly man who knew his Bible. As I stood before him and recounted the two dreams I had received, his head bowed lower and lower. He then put his face in his hands. Speaking in a trembling voice, he spoke saying, "Those dreams were of God". He did not explain to me what all this meant to him and quietly I left the room. Sadly his destruction followed very quickly as the Sunday papers spread reports of his downfall. This episode did great damage to the fellowships in England, India and Ceylon.
6 GOD PROVIDES IN YORK

Our move to York happened all very suddenly. The Pastor helped us load what few possessions we had into the mission van and it was not long before we arrived at our new home. Roger and Gladys made us most welcome in their small terrace house. They shared one upstairs bedroom together with their three boys, whilst we shared the other with our two children. Roger bought some second hand beds and quickly converted them into bunk beds that gave us a little more room in the bedrooms. Downstairs was a small living room, about ten feet square and a kitchen, about half that size. There was not even room for our few possessions, so we found some storage nearby.

Although we lived in cramped conditions, we all got on very well together. We had at that time no income. Having been informed that as I had given up my last job of my own free will, to go into the ministry, I was not entitled to anything, I was therefore totally dependent on Roger and Gladys. Roger worked as a porter in a maternity hospital. When he applied for that job, he had been told there were no vacancies, so he came home and prayed about it. As he continued to pray, he felt this strong urge to return to the hospital. The head porter asked why had he returned, so Roger told him how, when he was praying, he felt it right to return. The head porter exclaimed, "That's amazing! I have a porter who has just handed his notice in, so you can have his job." Gladys worked delivering flowers and after a few weeks Faith got a cleaning job at Rowntrees. I became chief cook and bottle washer at our new home. I was not well enough to go looking for work. I think the trauma of the past months had made me ill and I was covered in running sores.

You can imagine that with nine sharing this little house, it was only God's grace that kept us in love and harmony with one another. Bath time was fun. Out would come the tin bath and be placed in front of the fire; then the five children, one after another would have their baths. Fortunately the public baths were not far away, so Faith and I did not have to join the bath queue. Most other things were done together. We had fun and talked together. We prayed together. We went to the same Elim Church together. We even had the same tastes in common; We would send the children off to Mary's corner shop to pay the deposit on an empty sweet jar. On their return we would fill the jar with small onions and vinegar. We knew it would take ten days before they would taste just right so each day we would delight in marking the day off, another day closer to opening the jar! We would look at the jar, then at the calendar, and what a time we enjoyed on the tenth day! The children were dispatched to Mary's to buy a freshly baked crusty brown loaf of bread; then with a great cheer, the pickled onion jar was opened, and with the bread cut, we would have our feast. Of course the pickled onions would only last a few days; then we would start all over again.

Even though Roger and Gladys were very generous in keeping us fed, and a roof over our heads, we were, nevertheless, very poor. Faith had already sold her engagement ring in Newark so we had nothing to fall back on. That first Christmas in York, I knew there was no money for presents but I so wanted to buy Faith a Christmas card. When I looked at my situation and saw there was no way I could raise enough money to buy a Faith card, I just wept. Even at church I had nothing to put in the offering. Roger would often squeeze some money in my hand to save me any embarrassment.

We all continued to attend the Elim church, which was very large. The people there were nice and friendly and the pastor was a good evangelist. Most weeks would see one or two making a commitment to Jesus, particularly young people. The worship however was very ordered and traditional. Not the liberty and freedom I had come to know at the Newark Fellowship.

As the weeks passed, my health improved. I had been treating my sores which were now clearing up. I now felt well enough to seek work. I would stand on the bank steps in the centre of York. This was where the first newspapers of the early edition were sold as it was only a few yards from the newspaper printers. I would buy the newspaper vendor's first paper and quickly turn to the situations vacant pages to scan the jobs available. York is not an industrial city, so there were very few vacancies in the mechanical line. If I saw any possibilities I would get the news vendor to tell me how to find the various places advertising jobs.

Throughout this time I had been praying about finding employment in accordance with God's plan for me. Always during my prayer time I had seen a square building with a red stripe around the top. As I told folk about this I was given all kinds of interpretations of what this might be, usually something spiritual like the red being the blood of Jesus surrounding me. I would only discover its true meaning some time later.

Returning home from a fruitless job hunting expedition on the bank steps, I was greeted by Gladys talking to our grocer who was on his delivery round. The conversation got around to job hunting, and she told me of a job I had missed in the paper, where a mechanic was wanted at The Fosse Island Road garage. After getting directions, I set off straight to the garage. The owner of the garage told me I was too late; he had a book full of applicants and the last man he had interviewed was far better qualified than me. When I returned home I didn't have to say anything. I think my face said it all. Everyone in the room immediately started praying for me. We were all kneeling wherever there was some floor space, when a knock came at the door. It was the pastor from the Elim church. We told him why we were praying. He joined us for a while, then said, "I know the man at that garage. I'm going to see him right now." It was not very long before the pastor returned and told me that the garage owner wanted to talk to me. I was only too happy to return to the garage.

The owner said to me, "The pastor has given you a very good reference. I am particularly interested that you are a Christian and can be trusted with money, because part of the job will entail looking after the cash till, but I do have one problem-I don't know what you can do as you have not told me." I replied, "Anybody can tell you what they can do; I would rather show you. Why don't you give me a month's trial? You can see what I can do; then if at any time you are not happy with my work, you can tell me to go. Or if I am not happy, I will go." He responded, "Well there's one thing, of all the men I have seen, you are the only one to offer to go on trial. Go on then, I'll give you a try; it will be ten pounds a week."

The very first day at my new job the boss came to me and said, "I've got a Mr. Shaw here who wants his brakes adjusting. Can you do it for him?" I said, "Right away." Mr. Shaw was waiting whilst I repaired his car. I got three of the brakes adjusted perfectly but the fourth was seized up; I could not budge it at all. I told Mr. Shaw the problem. He said, "Can you fix it, and how long is it going to take you?" I replied, "Three quarters of an hour." He remarked, "You're on then. I'll call your bluff; see if you can do it in three quarters of an hour." I set to work, dismantled the problem brake and as that garage did not have the necessary heat source equipment, I took the brake to another garage to get it released. On my return I was able to reassemble the brake and complete the adjustment. Forty-five minutes exactly had elapsed as I returned the keys to the customer.

I thought no more about the job, but the very next day Mr. Shaw returned. He asked me if I was happy working there. I told him I was. He then went on to say he was very happy with the job I had done on his car, and that he represented the garage owners who were happy with me and I was to forget about the trial period-the job was mine. Some time later whilst I was cycling to work, I looked up and there on the left hand side of the road was the same square building with a red stripe around the top, exactly as I had seen during my prayer time. It was the garage where I worked. I don't know why I had not realised this when I had started working there, but this really thrilled me to know that God knows even the smallest details before they come to pass.

Now that I had an income of my own, I could start to look for a place for my family to live and let Roger and Gladys have their home back to themselves. News of rooms to let came in an unexpected way. During the church service the pastor made a prayer request. It appeared that one of the lady members of the church had let some rooms in her house to a young married couple. This young bride had left the bedroom to get her husband a cup of tea. On her return she discovered he had died. It may seem heartless, but I just knew I had to see the pastor and get the address of these vacated rooms.

The very next day I took Faith and our young daughter, Sandra, to see the lady about the rooms. The landlady took to our Sandra straight away and I think this helped to melt her heart towards us. The accommodation gave us a lot more living space, whilst the rest of the house was occupied by the landlady. She agreed to let us have the rooms and accused us of taking Sandra on purpose to persuade her to let the rooms to us. This was not the case but I was so glad to get some rooms, so I did not argue with her. Some days later I saw our pastor and told him of our impending move and of our need for transport. He told us of a man in the congregation who had a lorry. My removal problem was soon solved as this man was quite happy to loan me his lorry. I remember it was a long wheel base Morris commercial. It was more than adequate to carry both us and our possessions to our new home.

Although these rooms served us well, I really wanted a place of our own. A place where we could enjoy greater privacy and all be family without being concerned if the children's noise was going to upset the landlady. I had chatted to my boss at the garage about my situation and that I was looking for a house. Being a business man in the city he had some useful contacts. He arranged for me to go and see a Miss Abbey, who managed some property. She told me I had just missed one property but she had a ground floor flat coming vacant shortly. Would I like to look at it? Faith and I were able view it a few days later. It was a nice Victorian property in Acomb Green about three miles from the centre of York. Miss Abbey said she would contact me at the garage when it became vacant.

Not many days passed before I got the call I had been waiting for. 'Would I collect the keys for our house?' As I left work that day, instead of going home, I went straight to my friend from church to borrow his lorry. I drove it around to our rooms and parked outside. I put my head around the front door. There was Faith ironing the clothes. I shouted, "Come on, Faith, we're going." She looked at me startled, and said, "What now!" I said, "Yes now; pack up, we're going." It didn't take long to put our few things on the back of the lorry, but it was quite a push getting Faith up and into the lorry cab. You see she was getting quite a big girl as she was very pregnant with the next little Brewer. We somehow all squeezed into the cab and set off to our new home.

It was dark when we arrived and I was to find the mains electricity fuse had been cut by the Electricity Board. Me being me, I had to get the lights on as soon as possible. I found a piece of wire left in the fuse box, just long enough to bridge the gap on the fuse and I soon had the lights back on. This enabled us to get settled in that night. Fortunately the Electricity Board man who came the next day to reconnect the supply officially was very understanding and overlooked my tampering with the mains fuse, saying he had not seen what I had done!

Our new home was much further away from both my work and church so I bought a moped that was a great help in getting me to work. Church was now about three miles away. Faith and I would load Sandra into the pram and sit our David on top. Then we would walk the quite hilly road, going via Holgate Hill to church in York. We often did this journey twice on a Sunday.

The man who had loaned me the lorry had his own timber business. He asked me would I like to come and work with him and become his partner. This was quite a dilemma for me as I believed God had intervened on my behalf to get the job at the garage, so was it right to leave? I prayed about it, but did not seem to get any direction either to stay or go. I eventually decided to hand my notice in. I thought if nothing else, the change from motor mechanics might well do me good. Whilst I was working my notice, a man called Dick, about my age, came into the garage looking for work. He was one of those men you can take to straight away. As my boss was out, I interviewed him and felt he would be ideal for my job. He was experienced with mechanics and seemed as if he would have a good manner with the customers. I told him to return the next day to see the boss.

I had been praying about the whole issue of my departure, my replacement and my boss. The next day, I relayed an account of my interview with Dick to my boss and said, "I really took to this man and I think you will, too." After this man's meeting with my boss, he was given the job. My boss thanked me for doing the interview and said that he was impressed by the reasons I had given the man for my leaving. There was no animosity or bad feeling. The response of my boss gave me more peace about my decision to move on.

The timber business was very hard work. Everything was done by hand. I was soon very fit and bronzed as I was wielding a seven pound axe, felling trees and cutting up timber with a cross cut saw. As time passed and my experience grew in the timber industry, I realised that my partner and I were both working hard every day, but not making a lot of money. It grieved me to see quality timber cut up for logs and fire wood, particularly when I knew the timber merchants would pay a much better price. The long hours felling timber had me absolutely worn out; I was ready for a break but we had no way of paying for a holiday. I just had to leave my problems with Jesus!

A Mr. Andy occupied the flat above us. He was a grumpy old man. He seemed to be grumpy with everyone; everyone that is, except my wife, Faith. The reason for his different attitude towards her was that she was the only person, other than himself, who cared for the communal areas of the flats. Faith would scrub the entrance and stair well floors and keep it looking nice and clean. He really appreciated that.

Mr. Andy and his wife were planning to go on holiday that next day, but his car had broken down, so he came to ask me if there was anything I could do to help. His car needed a new valve fitting in the cylinder head and a decoke-quite a big job! I asked him to go and collect the parts that I would need then I could work through the night to repair his car. I had just completed the job and got the car running smoothly as Mr. Andy came down early the following morning to see how I was doing. Mr. and Mrs. Andy were able to drive off happily and enjoy their holiday.

On their return, Mr. Andy asked me for the bill for my work. He kept on asking me how much I wanted. I told him nothing; I had done the job to help him and I didn't want money for helping him out of an awkward situation. He gave up asking me for the bill, but Mrs. Andy had not. She sent her husband down to me and in his abrupt manner, he told me his wife wanted to see me in their flat. She could not understand why I wouldn't take any money. She then asked me if our family would like to use their six berth caravan at Reeton Gap. I was delighted to accept this offer of a holiday. My partner in the timber business transported my family in the works van and so we enjoyed a lovely free holiday!

Amazingly a similar thing was to happen again some twelve months later. I had been felling trees, swinging a heavy axe every day non-stop for a month and I was worn out. I told my pastor how I felt and somehow the subject of a change of jobs came up. He said he knew someone at the Electricity Board and might possibly be able to arrange an interview for me. A short time later I was called for an interview. It was made clear that my previous linesman experience counted for nothing with them and I would have to start at the bottom. I agreed and was told I would receive a letter telling me the result of the interview.

Would you believe it, as I returned from work, there was Mr. Andy wanting me help me sort his seized brakes out, and yes, he wanted to go on holiday the very next day! Well, you can guess the rest. On his return from holiday, Mr. Andy in his grumpy voice said, "Do you want payment, same as before?" I agreed, but this was to be a very different holiday. My partner had let me take the van for the whole week, which was great for us. I was so looking forward to a complete rest and a nice holiday with the family, but it rained all day, every day. Denise our newest arrival in the family had bronchitis and was cutting teeth, whilst Sandra and David were up all night with whooping cough. None of us was having much sleep. During the day we amused the children indoors playing snakes and ladders and the like. Sometimes, despite the rain, we would go out for a ride in the van. Travelling in the van seemed to be the only thing that would pacify Denise. On the Saturday we were due to return home, we decided to go via Scarborough Docks and get some herring. We arrived early in the morning; the sun came out and it became a scorching hot day. We bought a great pile of herring for two shillings and six pence. We had so many we went around all our friends in York giving them fresh herring! When I arrived home all the troubles of our spoilt holiday vanished as I read a waiting letter from the Electricity Board offering me a job that very next week.

Our final move in York was to a three bedroom house on Cornlands Road. It was a lovely clean estate with strict rules to ensure gardens were kept in order; any one who had a car was not allowed to park on the verges or road but in a separate area away from the houses and children. We were still struggling financially and living very much hand to mouth. As removal day came, I carried all our furniture the one and a half miles piece by piece on a small trolley I had made for David to play on.

Moving from a one bedroom flat into a much larger house left us with hardly any floor covering and our new house looking rather empty. We saved up twelve pounds and were very fortunate in hearing about a sale room in Toft Green, York, where British Railways' unclaimed goods in transit were auctioned off. We bid for floor covering and furniture, which including transport came to ten pounds and ten shillings. This was a great help in making our home more comfortable.

We were blessed with friendly neighbours and children who all got along well together. Faith by this time was pregnant with our fourth child, but as she was not due for some time, I had no cause for concern as I left for work. During the day I received a telephone message from a neighbour which was to cause me great concern. I had been instructed to return home urgently but had not been given any reasons. I dashed out and caught my bus. It seemed to go so slowly and every stop seemed interminable. I had to change buses and my frustration and anxiety grew as I waited for the second bus that would take me home.

As the bus arrived at my stop, I leaped off and sped around the corner of my street to be greeted by the sight of flashing lights of both police and ambulance vehicles outside my home. I went into the house to find Faith hooked up to a blood transfusion system. She was drifting in and out of consciousness. It was obvious she had lost a lot of blood and a medical team was caring for her. Fortunately her blood group card was by her bedside so she had received immediate help. It appears that after I left for work, Faith had started with acute labour pains. She had asked our son David to go over the road to get help from a neighbour whom he called Aunt Nora. He said, "Can you come? Mummy needs you". Nora replied, "Tell mummy I'll come as soon as I've finished what I am doing". David then said, "I think you should come now, Aunt, because Mummy's standing funny." Nora came, but unfortunately as David had left our house the front door had locked behind him. Faith, still upstairs, realised the problem and had struggled downstairs. She managed to unlock the door but lost our baby as she did so. I was greatly concerned by this whole incident but at the same time had an inner peace and an assurance that Faith would be all right. After a while she regained her strength and was discharged from Hospital. How glad I was to have my sweetheart home safe and well. Although I loved and valued her greatly, it was not until I was faced with the reality of possibly losing her that it was brought home to me what a precious partner I had and what devastation I would feel at her loss.

7 IS THERE MORE GOD?

During the difficulties I experienced after my arrival in York a negative feeling came over me. I became spiritually really barren and was drying up as nothing seemed to be happening. Some of my old thoughts and habits returned. This greatly troubled me and I could not understand it. One day I was on my own travelling to church when I heard a voice. "Moses, Moses, take the shoes from off thy feet, for the ground whereon thou standest is holy ground". I responded in my mind to the Lord saying, "I've been in that desert. All I saw were flies, lizards and scorpions, sage brush and camel dung. I have seen enough of the desert while I was in the army to know there is nothing holy about it." Then I asked, "Why is it holy?" The clear reply came, "Because I am in it." I knew then that although my situation was like the back side of the desert, God was in it. He was with me in my situation. He lifted my from my depths of despair to a place of praise and worship. I was to learn that even when things were going wrong and I was feeling spiritually barren, God was in the experience.

During my time at the Elim Church in York I learnt quite a lot, but I was missing the freedom and liberty in praise and worship that I had enjoyed as a new Christian in Newark. I must admit I was feeling rather like a 'pew warmer' and apart from putting money in the offering, I was not contributing anything useful to the church.

On one occasion the pastor had arranged a Saturday night meeting and had invited his niece to speak. She was from the Methodist church and I very much wanted to hear what she had to say. I was really determined to attend this meeting but I was at home looking after the children whilst Faith, Roger and Gladys were still out at work. I had expected at least one of them back home. I thought to myself, "Even if I'm late, I am still going." If you had known me, you would know for certain that I am never late for anything. I was getting more concerned as the meeting time approached, but eventually Gladys returned home. She had been involved in a driving accident in her delivery van which had skidded on the snow into a ditch. Fortunately she was uninjured so I told her that her dinner was all ready for her and I quickly set off for the meeting.

I was hurrying along a footpath near the Ouse Bridge when two men staggered out from a passageway and bumped into me, knocking me down onto the road. They kept apologising and helped me to my feet. I knew there was a pub up the passage and it was obvious they had been drinking. I was wanting to rush off to the meeting, but these men wanted to talk; they continued apologising and told me they were celebrating. Both of them had been released from prison that day. One of the men was begging money from me whilst the other man was trying to shut him up saying, "If we get caught begging, we'll end up back in prison." When I learned they were jailbirds, I started witnessing to them about the type of life I had lived and that I understood all that they were going through. I told them how Jesus Christ had changed me completely. One of them was rejoicing, saying, "He's one of us, he's one of us!" I told him that I had been, but now I was a new creation in Christ Jesus. I felt it right to promise them some money, enough for bed and breakfast if they would come to church with me. They did not know whether to believe me or not, so I said, "Look, the moment we come out of church, I will give you enough money for bed and breakfast. It's no good me giving you any money now, you'll go straight to the pub and drink it all away." We shook hands on the agreement and all set off for the meeting.

We arrived at the church hall and found Pastor Woodhead praying, so we waited until he had finished, then slipped in quietly. He introduced his niece who stood up and spoke to us. She said, "I realised tonight that I would be speaking to a room full of born again Christians and I sought the Lord on what He would have me speak to you tonight. He has shown me it is to be on the Cross. At first I had been reluctant to speak on this, but the Lord has impressed on me that I must." That night God knew that those two jailbirds were going to be there!

She gave a marvellous and moving word about Calvary and the love of God. When she came to an end the pastor got up and gave an altar call, (an appeal for any who want to follow Jesus, to come forward for prayer). These two men both got up and went to the front. After the meeting I met the two men outside. One shook my hand so firmly and hung onto it tightly saying, "Friend, if I never see you again in this life. I know I shall see you in Heaven one day." I wasn't too sure about the other man-it was not for me to judge-but something had really happened in the life of his friend!

As I look back over the events of the day, Gladys's accident, my concern about being late, my rushing to the meeting and even the preacher changing her message and giving the word the Lord had laid on her heart, I can now rejoice. It was all in God's plan to time it just right for two jailbirds whom He loves to hear the Gospel! I also learnt another lesson that night. I had thought that the Methodists were somehow not as fervent as the Pentecostals, but in God's eyes this Methodist lady had sought God, listened and obeyed. She had been used as His special instrument in bringing these two men to the foot of the cross.

This incident had blessed me but I was impatient for more to happen and I wanted to be involved. After a while I persuaded the church to have an open air gospel meeting in York's market square. The arrangement was that we would have a meeting at the church and then all go together to the open air meeting. As the church meeting drew to a close someone said, "We can't go now, it's pouring with rain." I became very angry. I can't even call it righteous anger. I was really angry and blurted out the words, "Raining! raining! Souls go to a Christless eternity. They end up in Hell whether it's raining or not. The weather does not make any difference to Hell or eternity. If a drop of rain is going to put us off...." I am afraid, grace went out of the window as I continued to remonstrate with them.

The following week we did have an open air meeting. It was all right, but rather formal and without the freedom for anyone to step forward and testify or preach the gospel. This open air meeting ended up being a one-off which left me feeling frustrated. I decided that I needed to do something about this. I collected together a car battery and a small loud speaker system, then rigged up a little trailer and hitched it behind my pedal cycle. This gave me the freedom to travel around the whole area preaching the Good News to anyone who would listen.

Some time later, I was on my own at an evening meeting when I felt great longing in my heart to talk to someone about Jesus. It was like a fire within me that would not be quenched. As I left the meeting I prayed, "Lord on my way home use me and let me talk to someone about Jesus. Give me someone to witness to." On my way home I heard a noise from the far end of York Market Place. This attracted my attention and I walked towards the noise. As I approached it became obvious that some Christians were having an open air meeting. There are some underground toilets in the market and this group were using the raised concrete roof as a platform. I stood listening to them talking about Jesus when I was approached by a young man. He offered me a tract, (a printed gospel message). I thanked him but assured him that I was born again. He introduced me to their pastor, Pastor Roy of The Assemblies of God Church. He gave me a warm handshake and we shared with each other about knowing Jesus. He then said, "You see that lady up there,"-indicating towards the lady who was speaking-"When she is finished you get up and have a go for Jesus."

I remembered there was quite a crowd gathered as I stood on the platform to speak. I felt caught a little unawares as I had not prepared anything. I looked across the market and there facing me was a large billboard. It was advertising cigarettes with a slogan, 'Let Capstan take the strain.' I took my lead from this and spoke about how Jesus can take the strain in our lives. This meeting was to be the start of a lovely friendship and it opened the door into a new church.

At first the pastor invited me to come and speak at a meeting, then as Roger, Gladys, Faith and I prayed, we warmed to the idea of moving to the Assembles of God Church. I really felt at home with those people. There was a greater freedom and liberty in the meetings, with opportunities to share testimony. Of course being new and untried, it was natural that the pastor put limits on what any new arrival could do. I understood and respected his responsibility to guard that only the truth of God's Word was proclaimed from his pulpit. My personal desire to preach the gospel continued throughout this time as I kept cycling around the villages with my speaker system.

I have found that our God is the God of the unexpected and He can ask us to do the most surprising things. I was aware that in York there was a small fellowship that was part of the church that I had left in Newark. It just seemed that God was impressing on my mind the thought that I must go and join this fellowship. I struggled with this idea because I knew He had brought me out. I went to see Pastor Roy and shared these thoughts with him. He also found it difficult to accept that God would take me out and then send me back again. I was torn between the wisdom of this faithful pastor and an increasing urge that I had to go, even if it looked a foolish thing to do.

Faith and I left the church and went to join the little fellowship at 54, Haxby Road. We were made very welcome and I was delighted to renew my friendship with my very dear friend, Neville Gray, who had been my prayer partner in the Newark fellowship. After the meetings I once again prayed with Neville and we resumed our prayer life together. Little by little Neville started to open his heart. He told me how unhappy he was in the fellowship and how his heart was breaking at the thought of some of the things that were happening to him. This was all compounded by the fact that his wife was divorcing him. After we had discussed and prayed about the problem I asked him if he thought the time had come for him to leave that fellowship. He told me that was what he had been praying about for some time. After some time in silence I said, "Come on, Neville, we will all go to The Assemblies of God." I believed God had heard the cry of this faithful man in grave need and I had been used as an instrument to rescue him.

It is so easy to judge others, and often, without all the facts, we judge wrongly. I was saddened when I returned to The Assembly of God Church by a lady who chose to ignore me and went out of her way to turn her back on me. Sometimes in doing the will of God you will be misunderstood and this can cause great hurt. Because of this rejection I resolved to go out of my way to welcome back any who had left then returned. I would never cut them off but just show them the unconditional love of Jesus. I wanted the love of God to be spread abroad in my heart, a love without bounds or preconditions. I did find great encouragement from another lady, who on seeing our family return, raced across the church, got hold of both my hands and gave them a great squeeze as she offered me a tremendous welcome back greeting.

The Assembly of God Church services took place in a Quaker meeting house on Bishop Hill. The agreement was that the church would pay rent and look after the grounds. These included a Quaker burial ground. It fell to me to care for this graveyard. It may seem morbid but I found a real peace doing this job. For me the burial ground became a special place to talk with God. It was a most interesting place. All the gravestones were exactly the same height, so no matter what station you had held in this life all were considered equal. For example, The Rowntree Family (Chocolate manufacturers of York) were now held in the same esteem as the lowliest servant girl. There was also an American buried there. This was most unusual for that period. It appears he was a slave trade abolitionist and had travelled to England to meet with the leading abolitionists of the day. Unfortunately war broke out in America and he died before he was able to return home.

Once again I was to experience a contrast of emotion as I delighted in the news that Faith was pregnant again, and then was deeply saddened as I learned that my mother was very ill with bowel cancer. My parents still lived in Newark, and as my only transport was a 50cc moped, it would take me about five hours' ride on those twisty old roads to visit her. You can imagine the condition I arrived in on some occasions, contending with rain, snow or fog! Although my mother underwent an operation, she never really recovered and died a year later.

A number of factors now combined to make us consider our future in York. My elderly father was now on his own, Faith's parents were needing more support and we both started to consider independently that it may be time to return to our home town. On my next moped excursion to Newark I had in my mind the thought of visiting my old boss from the dairy I had worked for. He had now set up his own business on a small holding in Bathley, a tiny village outside Newark. It wasn't hard to find as it was called Bathley House. We exchanged greetings and chatted about old times. He then told me about his current situation; he was looking for a man who would be a dairy-roundsman but who could also turn his hand to motor repairs and also look after the livestock. He pointed to a house and told me it went with the job. It just seemed to me that everything was falling into place so when he offered me the job I was glad to accept. I believed God was making a way for us to return to Newark.

Things however did not go smoothly. The house I had been offered was occupied by an

ex-employee; although he had been given notice to quit, he remained in the house a further three months. Meanwhile Faith and the children were still living in York and I was in lodgings in Newark. I tried to visit the family every weekend. This was during the winter of 1963/64. It meant starting my seventy mile milk round at three a.m., then riding my moped to York, returning about midnight so I could get some sleep before my next delivery round at five a.m.. I was so relieved when the day came to move my family into the house at Bathley. My boss's son in law and I each drove a milk van to York where we loaded all our possessions and family, bringing them to our new home and a new chapter in our lives.

I was to find the job extremely labour intensive and physically taxing. After completing my varied tasks for the day, it would often be eleven o'clock before I got to bed and then I was back up at four a.m. for my milk round. Going through this same routine seven days a week had a detrimental effect on my health. I was mentally, physically and spiritually drained. I had no time for Christian fellowship and I needed help and I looked for it in the wrong place. Faith had been prescribed some tablets by the doctor. During her pregnancy with our son, Andrew, she suffered terribly with fatigue, tiredness and weakness. She had been told only to take them during the daytime, but for some reason she did not want to take them at all. I think all the travelling to and from York and the long hours of my job got me to a point where I was ready to try anything. I wondered if Faith's tablets would help. I tried one and it did work. I felt great, but then after four hours I felt worse than ever. The tablets had just come on he market and turned out to be what are now called 'Purple Hearts'. I thank God that Faith never took any!

During this time a number of letters and magazines arrived at our home. They were from a man called David Willows. I would describe him as a religious or traditional Pentecostal, but having read his letters I would say that he had undergone such a radical transformation that he had changed beyond all recognition. This man was now so obviously full of joy and was experiencing and enjoying a new found freedom and fire in his spirit. The magazines spoke of 'Glory Meetings' and mentioned the name of their leader as Henri. (spelled with an i)I

My spirit was crying out for a new touch from God so I decided to explore this further. Returning from my milk round I decided to come home via a plot of land on Bathley Lane. I knew that this Henry mentioned in the magazine had bought a plot of land there so that visitors to his meetings could stop overnight in their caravans. Henri Staples was a business man in Newark. He owned a lot of property and shops. He was rich but very generous. Many years ago I had met him briefly in his shop, but now I wanted to meet the man whose magazine articles I had read, whose voice I had heard on tape and whose impact had so dramatically changed people. I found the field that had a caravan parked in it. As I reached the caravan I was greeted by Henri and his wife Connie. They gave me such a warm welcome. I was immediately struck by Henri's positive attitude towards everything. I discovered that the two of them were not usually there, but from time to time they would bring the caravan down to their field so they could have a quiet time, a time when they could draw aside and seek God.

As a result of my talk with Henri, Faith and I started going to some of his meetings. These were a real culture shock for me. I had been used to the way other churches conduct their meetings, but this was just so different from anything I had ever experienced. To be honest I found it difficult to reconcile it with anything I had ever known. It took me quite some time to adjust. It was not just the lively choruses, it was everything about the meeting that was different. I had experienced a degree of liberty in worship in the Newark Fellowship, but this was a dimension of liberty I had never entered into! There was a freedom from religious structure, no hymn, prayer sandwich here, no set preacher and yet The Holy Spirit seemed to weave through the service with a definite theme speaking through the various choruses, prayers, testimonies and perhaps two or three sermons that different members of the congregation would bring. Because of this every meeting was different.

Great waves of joy and laughter would sweep over the meeting, but it could also be tears of repentance or weeping for the unsaved. Of course people made mistakes; yes there was a risk that some visitor might speak out something contrary to the word of God, but rather than stop everyone taking part and therefore quenching the Holy Spirit as He ministered through the whole body, the leaders would step in and stop any confusion or disruption, correcting any error by teaching from the Bible. I had to decide whether I wanted to be in a safe, comfortable, and well ordered, predictable church, or enter into the realm of this excitingly unpredictable and admittedly risk-taking meeting of Spirit filled people where lives were being changed.

8 GLORY IN THE CHURCH

My situation at the dairy by this time was critical. I was so fatigued by the long hours, my health was failing and my doctor was so concerned that he told me to leave my job as he could not be responsible for my health if I continued. He left me in no doubt as to the seriousness of my condition. In spite of his warning there seemed to me to be no escape. My family, my livelihood, even the roof over my head all depended on this job. There was no relief from it seven days a week, week in, week out.

As I returned from my round one day, I found my boss remonstrating in an aggressive manner with my son David. He was ranting on and on at him. It appears that my son had been playing a harmless game that he often played by himself, but, for some reason my boss took exception to him and went off the deep end. I intervened and became angry at my boss's attitude. I told him that I was responsible for disciplining my children and that he had enough to do looking after his own family. This incident did it for me. It was the last straw. I just blurted out the words, "I shan't be working here any longer. I'm going to leave." I realised as soon as I had spoken, what I had done. I was so dependent on this man for almost everything. I knew that without this job, I would lose the house. He accepted my resignation and gave me notice to quit my house.

I went home and was sitting down thinking about my awful predicament when God did something wonderful for me. A knock came at my front door. Standing there was the new pastor of the Newark fellowship where I had been a full time worker. A new pastor had been appointed. I quickly realised that this visit was no coincidence; as I told the pastor of the situation I had landed myself in and that my family was now homeless, he immediately responded with an offer of help. He told me the fellowship still had the Lombard Street buildings and that we were welcome to use some of the empty rooms. What a wonderful offer! We moved into the upstairs bedrooms and ate together with the fellowship workers. I left the dairy in July 1964, and that very same week was offered a job in a local garage.

Some weeks after this move my father came to visit. He asked whether we had considered buying a house. He went on to offer that if we found a house we liked, then he would loan us the deposit. Faith and I quickly took him up on this offer. We found a three bedroom terrace house on Wright Street and my father paid the deposit, the princely sum of one hundred and thirty-five pounds. Arrangements were made to pay the one thousand three hundred and fifty pounds, the total cost of the house, and with all the business quickly settled we moved into our new home.

It was at this point that the ministry of Henri Staples was to change and influence my life. He had a local meeting of people who were called 'The Glory Folk'. They met in the The Staythorpe Social Club. Henri himself was seldom there as he travelled widely with his ministry, but he must have had a change of mind as he started ministering at the local meeting on a regular basis. I took our family and we became committed to this ministry.

From my earliest days as a Christian I had enjoyed a degree of liberty, but by comparison with the liberty in The Glory Meetings, it was obvious that there was a whole area of freedom I had not yet experienced. The churches talk today about The Toronto Blessing being a new move of God, but all these same manifestations were common in the meetings that I attended back in the Nineteen Fifties. In many respects Henri was a man born out of his time, but he was also a forerunner of the blessing God wanted His whole Church to enjoy. I must admit there were certain things I was not sure about, but I could not deny the power of this ministry and that men and women were being born again and their lives dramatically transformed.

These Glory Meetings were to teach me a great deal and I want to recount some of these events to you. The evangelist, David Willows invited me to attend a meeting being taken by the A.A.Allen, American evangelistic team. The churches in Britain were not happy with this ministry as large numbers were attracted from the main stream churches to hear these evangelists. They would then give generously to support their work, some said to the detriment of the churches. These people were very much attracted by the demonstration of God's power in evidence at these meetings. David gave me a lift in his van. I was so glad I had accepted his invitation and not let the negative remarks stop me. From the moment I entered the hall, God's power was in evidence.

The praise and worship was tremendous. A.A.Allen himself was not at the meeting, so one of his team preached. It was as if God was talking directly to me. It was frightening; this speaker just knew everything about me, even my secret thoughts. He said, "There is someone here bound by religion." I was that man! In the fellowship that I had first attended in Newark, we were not permitted newspapers, television or radio, and the cinema and the theatre were out of bounds. It seemed to me as though there was just the preacher and myself in the hall. He went on to say, "You're in a religious rut. A rut is an endless grave. Do you want to come out of that rut?" I replied in the quiet of my mind, "Yes". The preacher went on to say, "You've just said yes to God. There is a wall of tradition in your life and you are on the wrong side of it. Would you be prepared to step over it?" He paused just for a moment and I responded in my heart, "Yes." He then said, "You've just said yes to God again, but the pastors and elders will come against you, even in the name of Jesus. Are you willing to stand against them?" I again said, "Yes". After a brief pause he said, "You've just said yes to God again". The preacher went on to talk about freedom in Christ not being empty words but a real release of His people. He then prayed for all of us and I knew God had done a work in my heart that night. I know I have never been the same since!

As I got into David's van to return home I started laughing. I laughed and laughed all the way home to Newark. Someone in the van said, "Well, God's certainly set Fred free tonight!" Yes I was free, free from man's rules and laws, that tradition we call religion. I was released to serve Him in my new found freedom. I had lost my fear of what men or leaders might say. I was free to listen to and obey The Holy Spirit. This was a watershed in my life. I could really enter into the Glory meetings without my reservation. This new liberty brought me a new joy in worshipping Jesus. The chains in my life of 'you can't do this and you can't do that', were broken. You see there were things in my life I did not do because the church leaders told me they were wrong, but now I did things because I loved Jesus, and I stopped doing other things because I loved Jesus. I wanted to please Him, not hurt Him. Loving Jesus was my motivation.

Jesus' love was to change the old Fred and make me more like Jesus. He had to teach me how to love the unlovable. One night I attended a Glory meeting at Hammersmith Town Hall, when I saw this most peculiar object of a woman come in. It appeared to me that she must have had her hair permed about thirty years ago, then sprayed it and covered it with a hair net and not touched it since. Her whole scalp must have been crawling with lice. She had very thick lipstick on which was not only on her lips but overlapped above and below her lips. What a horrible sight! I was just glad I was some distance away. There was no way I wanted to suffer having the smell of this woman anywhere near me. Just to look at her made my flesh creep, yet my gaze kept returning to her.

During the worship I felt such a flood of God's love course through my body, it overwhelmed me. I knew God was showing me His unconditional love for me. In that moment I knew that this same unconditional love was being extended to this most peculiar lady. I was compelled to walk across the hall and put my arms around this lady and give her a hug, an embrace that expressed something of the love of Jesus to her, the love He has for the unlovable. Jesus had done something in my heart that night. He had freed my inhibitions and helped me to see that no matter how peculiar I view people, He sees them as objects of His love.

This was a new found freedom, but I had much more to learn as I was only a beginner in matters of liberty in The Holy Spirit. I found it was not good enough to read or hear of God doing wonders in the Glory meetings. I had to attend and experience for myself God's power at work. It seemed to me that these meetings were God's school where He was teaching me so much, not just head knowledge but showing me His ways deep inside my heart. One of the first lessons God showed me through Henri was, 'That it was in me' and that I was not to look around for someone else to do it. His favourite saying was, 'It's in you, lad'. I determined that whatever God put before me I would do it. I wouldn't wait for or expect others to visit, others to pray, others to preach or help, I would do it.

Another of Henri's sayings was, 'Go and have a go for Jesus'. He built and imparted a positive attitude in his teaching and was a great encouragement. He helped me see that I was who I was by the grace of God, and that His Holy Spirit had filled me, Fred Brewer, not just the pastor or minister, but me. He had equipped me to do exploits for Him. He had endued me with power from on high. He had given me the anointing. He had given me the words to say. I didn't have to wait for someone else but could go myself in the name of Jesus.

Faith was a great support to me in this ministry of going and doing. She would care for our family and take them to the local Glory meeting, whilst at weekends I went out with the ministry team. There was Doug, Chris, Ron, Mick, Billy and many others who would support us when they could. We would all pile into a car and travel to Long Eaton where we would transfer into Chris's caravette. Using this we would travel anywhere in the country and hold Glory meetings. In our minds we were like a team of S.A.S. warriors going to have a smack at the enemy. Going into enemy territory and pulling down his strongholds, winning souls for Jesus, bringing liberty and setting captives free. We travelled extensively, South as far as Southend, North as far as Peterhead, Ireland and Northern Ireland.

Now you may think that with the responsibility of taking meetings all over the country that we were well organised, in the sense that a programme was written down and everyone knew what was happening,. Well you would be wrong! Our preparation was prayer and praise and we submitted the order of the meeting to The Holy Spirit. That's why there were never two meetings alike- because He is a God of variety. A typical example was the meeting at Belfast Town Hall. Henri led the worship, leading the singing of a few choruses. Attending this meeting were some very religious people. It seemed to take them a while to get used to the idea that you can enjoy worshipping Jesus.

Whilst the singing was taking place none of us knew who would be the preacher for that night. This may seem reckless, but we depended completely on the moving of The Holy Spirit. (This was not an excuse to be lazy with our Bible Study; on the contrary, we were all expected to spend time seeking what God would have us share). The Lord put on my heart the scripture, 'But he did not know that the Lord had left him.' That's all I got. I knew it was about Samson, when he had not realised that God had left him. This theme kept running through my mind like a fast forward film. The very next moment Henri announced, "And now brother Fred is coming to share a word." He turned to me and said, "Go on lad," and so I did. God had given me the scripture and the message He wanted those Belfast people to hear. I told them how Samson had messed about with what God had given him and with what God had called him to do. He had not realised that God was no longer with him, in the things he was doing. I had a tremendous liberty just to speak out what The Holy Spirit revealed to me.

Henri would also tell us to be big enough to sit down if God's anointing was not on us; we should say so and sit down. This had been just such a case that night, for Henri knew that at that time he did not have the anointing to preach the word. Yes he could have preached in his own strength out of some sense of duty or expectation, but he was big enough to sit down and acknowledge that The Holy Spirit wanted to use someone else and on that occasion it happened to be me.

This was not just an isolated incident but happened often. A similar occurrence took place at Hollybush in Yorkshire. I went with Henri and Connie to Hollybush to have fellowship with Jim Wilkinson. We were invited to a meeting to be held that evening in the barn. Henri was leading some worship when he turned to me and without any prior warning said, "Fred, get on with it". As I stood up God brought to mind the scriptures He wanted me to minister on. I accepted Henry as a leader and I would have been quite happy to hear him speak, yet time and time again he would acknowledge that God wanted to speak through others and he would not stand in their way.

Henri taught me about burdens; he likened it to coming into a meeting with a heavy brick on his chest. He did not want anyone to leave the meeting without first having that burden released and removed. He would feel a sense of failure in his ministry if visitors were not delivered from whatever burden they were carrying. His earnest desire was that men and women were set free. Some of the burdens were religious or concerning traditions. Interestingly he did not seek to promote his own denomination. He would say, "You can't join us because we don't have anything you can join. What I want is that you get filled up with God. Fired up with The Holy Spirit and set free. I want you to take that back to your fellowships and churches, let them be blessed of God and liberated". Unfortunately many that did were rebuked and rejected by their own churches, so they became outcasts from the very place Henri wanted to bring a blessing.

These rejected people would seek out where Henri's future meetings were to be held and would literally travel all over the country to attend. They wanted to keep that joy and liberty. Ministers would find that those with this new enthusiasm and joy who stopped in the churches were disturbing to both them and their congregations, and sadly some were asked to leave. All kinds of accusations were made against Henri and his ministry. As I was now a part of this move of God it was only natural that I felt saddened by these allegations. I believe these made me even more determined to be obedient to The Holy Spirit and be numbered with the outcasts for Jesus.

Certain people would challenge and confront this liberating ministry, I was to learn so much just listening to Henri's response. One person stood up and said, "Henri, I don't like the way you praise the Lord." Henri responded, "How do you praise the Lord?" The challenger said, "Well I don't". Henri retorted, "Well I like my way better." Henri had a direct frankness that was refreshingly honest. He would say, "You have to follow me home to know me". In other words we could be one thing in the meeting, but what were we like at home? What were we like to our wife? What were we like to our children? He wanted us to behave wherever we were as if Jesus was watching us. Henri was the same at home; he lived what he preached. You would enter his workshop. It was always neat and tidy. Around the walls were posted notices, for example: 'Praise the Lord for goodness sake'. 'Rejoice and be glad'. All his posters were positive and were repeated in his house and his car. As a Christian who was keen to learn, I found this a really positive atmosphere.

Some Christians may attend a really uplifting conference and return to their church all fired up and full of joy, but within two weeks they seem to have lost it all and return to their humdrum life style. This was not what God wanted for us. I was being taught to stand fast in the liberty. Stand fast and not be moved, not be changed from positive to negative. Even when Henri was physically low he always remained positive. One such day, Henri lay ill in bed when a visitor called Chris. came to visit him. He was from the Assemblies of God Church, but very much of the 'dark pin stripe suit and large Bible under the arm' tradition.

Chris. told me he had gone with the intention of using the opportunity of setting Henri straight on a few things, but as he entered the bedroom, it was Henri who ministered to him and brought him into a tremendous liberty and an anointing that transformed his preaching. Many ministers were similarly liberated under Henri's ministry but unfortunately as these ministers returned to their churches, their new found liberty was not well received. One such minister, after returning from Henri's meeting preached in his Pentecostal church with such power and anointing that the change in him was obvious to everyone. Immediately after the service the leaders took him into a side room and asked him where his new power and authority had come from. If this minister had replied that he had found a new prayer life, a new fasting life or a new hunger for Bible reading they would have been thrilled, but the moment he said that he had gone to one of Henri's meetings and God had set him free, they did not want to know him anymore. It was as though these men had accepted the powerfully anointed word from this man, but as soon as they found that the liberty to minister had been received under Henri's ministry, then they no longer wanted anything to do with it.

As for me, I wanted to know more. I had seen lives transformed and I knew I was being changed as I allowed the liberty of the Holy Spirit to work within me. I wanted to soak up everything the Holy Spirit wanted to teach me. Even the most insignificant incidents were important lessons for me. On one such occasion I had been to a meeting with Henri and I were invited to a house afterwards for something to eat before we travelled home. Whilst the meal was being prepared, Henri and I walked out in the garden of our host.

Just then a lady who had been delivering leaflets door to door approached us and gave us a notice from her church. She then engaged us in conversation and asked if we knew where the Three Wise Men had come from. We said we didn't. This lady went on to inform us at some length as to the origins of the wise men who are mentioned at the birth of Jesus. We listened politely as she spoke, then Henri said, "Now tell me something, love; that's all very nice what you have told us, but how many souls has that won for Jesus?" That's the sort of man he was, he could cut through the irrelevant and superfluous and get right down to the important business of The Gospel.

I was with Henri in a church in the 'Red Light' district of Newcastle on Tyne. The meeting was going very well when I saw a lady enter the church with a man on either side of her. Right in the middle of the meeting Henri got down off the platform, walked across to this woman, put his arms around her and hugged her. She said, "Oh, I don't think I should be in this place". She confessed, "I'm a prostitute and these two men are my clients. I just felt I wanted to come in!" Henri replied, "I don't care what you are, me duck, Jesus loves you." It may be that since she had become a prostitute she had been used, but never loved. God expressed something of His love for her through Henri. God would lead Henri to do the most unexpected things and he would get away with it!

Henri wanted the whole church to get involved and be led by the Spirit, even if it meant doing the unexpected. He visited a church in Peterhead built and established by the Cameron brothers, two business men in the town. They had employed a pastor and arranged housing and a salary for him, but the pastor had now moved on, so the brothers told Henri they were praying for another pastor. The Cameron brothers were fine young men with a great potential in the business world. Henri's response was, "It's in you, lads, in you. You don't have to look outside for a pastor; the anointing is on you-get on with it". So they did. God blessed them and souls were won to Jesus through their ministry.

During a New Years Eve meeting in Peterhead I watched as in walked the roughest looking wreck of a man; he was thin with a gaunt unshaven face. He was dirty and wore a filthy, thin garbadine coat that was useless against the Peterhead winter. The man was obviously an alcoholic. Many of the men in that church were fishermen. They got up from their seats and surrounded this man, one after another hugging him and making him feel welcome. After the meeting, one of the fishermen took him home to look after him. I was deeply moved by the love these men showed this flea-ridden alcoholic. At the next meeting I again saw this poor alcoholic. He was shaking violently but again all the men got up and hugged him, prayed for and encouraged him. It was obvious he was suffering withdrawal symptoms.

After that meeting I had to return home but I asked to be kept informed on the progress of this man. Just a few days later I was delighted to receive a letter telling me that this man had been born again, filled with the Spirit and that his wife and children who had left him were now restored and reconciled to him. It was not a multitude of words that changed this man, but the love of Jesus shown through these fishermen.

One elderly man told me he could actually feel the love of God around Henri as he came into the room and I am sure that's what God wants for us all. I really appreciated Henri's unselfish love. If anyone was speaking and a number responded to a Gospel message, he would rejoice all the more. There was never a hint of jealousy, just love and encouragement. I could see clearly that Henri really loved Jesus by his commitment to prayer and fasting. He showed me there were no short cuts, no easy way. If we love Him and desire His anointing for ministry, then we must show we mean business with Him in our prayer and fasting life.

One of the ministry team, Albert Champion, started a fellowship in Thorp Hesley near Sheffield. It was in an old Wesleyan Chapel. A retired coal miner called Jack with his wife ran the fellowship. There was always a really warm welcome with two large coal fires blazing. On one of my visits Albert was leading the meeting but it seemed dead-nothing was happening; there was no joy in the worship. Nothing Albert said or did helped to improve the state of the meeting. He realised that something was wrong and stopped the service. The people were not responding to The Holy Spirit, so he told everyone to go outside. Albert followed them and told them to get their state of mind right, get rid of the negative thoughts and determine that when they returned to the meeting they were going to praise the Lord. Everyone then returned inside. Albert picked up his accordion. Immediately the praise and worship flowed and the Holy Spirit moved in power. I saw how important it was to come into worship not half asleep or with a mind full of worry and concern, but with a mind set on praising God. He will then quicken our bodies and open us up to the Holy Spirit's moving.

My first meeting with Albert was at an Elim church in Mansfield. He was the preacher that night and during the meeting God put in my heart a deep love for this man. This was to grow into a close brotherly relationship and for a long time afterwards we would be used together in ministry. We got to know one another so well that in meetings we would work as one. We knew when the other had something from the Lord and we made room for each other's ministries. This was a wonderful God given unity of spirit and purpose we enjoyed.

During the Glory meetings, I was privileged to witness many healings and miracles. Some were immediate and some delayed. Henri prayed for an Irish Catholic lady to be born again. She gave her heart to the Lord but her husband did not want anything to do with what was happening. Henri put his arms around the man and prayed, "Lord, I claim this man for your Kingdom." It was quite some time later, this same Irishman told me that since that prayer, he had received no rest from God until he had surrendered his life to Jesus. He then went on to tell me that he believed that the Lord had spoken to him, instructing him to distribute one million tracts. He responded by saying, 'Lord I will if you help me and provide the tracts, because you know I have no money.'

Not long after this he was visiting the home of a councillor in Ireland. The conversation got around to his becoming a Christian. The councillor said that he had believed once, but had nothing to do with the church now. The councillor then gestured to the man to follow him saying, "Come and look at this, it might be of some use to you." He opened his garage door and inside was stacked from floor to roof and from front to back with boxes all full of gospel tracts. He continued by saying, "There must be a million tracts there-you can have them if you want." The rest of my Irish friend's life was devoted to delivering these tracts. He sent them to Royalty, government officials, film stars, people in the media. He distributed them around housing estates and shopping areas, gave them to drunks and prostitutes. Football matches, sporting events, indeed any gathering, were given his closest attention. On learning this story, I prayed, 'Lord give me this kind of obedience to do whatever you ask.'

Henri was the first to acknowledge that he did not have a monopoly on his prayers being answered. If you felt led to get up and pray for someone else, then Henri was happy to let you get on with it. During the meeting people were encouraged to come onto the platform and tell others what Jesus had done for them, but Henri realised that he ran the risk that some would misuse this opportunity. Perhaps they liked to hear themselves talk or would say something that would not glorify Jesus. Then Henri would step in and say, "That's enough, brother, let's talk about Jesus".

Although many looked up to Henri, he was not infallible and did make mistakes. There is a saying that 'the man who never made mistakes never made anything', but Henri was making something, a precious ministry that would affect thousands. He would acknowledge his mistake and get on with whatever he was doing. Mistakes were not allowed to become a burden, dragging him down. In many respects he was a workaholic, both in business and for the Gospel. During the war years he was involved with the Newark Assemblies of God Church and would often be found on the streets handing out tracts and taking about Jesus to servicemen. He would then invite two or three back to his mother's for tea' then take them all to church. Many servicemen were to come to know Jesus this way and get saved.

In his business life he was a natural salesman, the kind that could sell ice-cream to the Eskimos. He worked for Currys and Pratt and Gelsthorpe before opening his own shop. Some employees when working for someone else seem lazy and half-hearted but when going into their own business pour all their energies into their work. This was not Henri; he was one hundred per cent committed to serving his employer, so much so that he was sought after by other employers. When he got his own electrical shop, supposing you had bought a radio, then Henri would not only deliver and demonstrate it, but would get the husband and wife together and pray with them that it would be a blessing to their home.

He became a very successful business man and bought up a lot of property. Having a lot of money never affected his Christian life. Indeed every so often he would sit down with his wife Connie and they would decide which churches to give their money to. They were extremely generous. It was whilst he was giving his money away that the Lord spoke to Henri, saying, "I don't want your money. I want you". It was Henri's response that was to lead so many including myself into a new effective ministry.

As he spoke he would often tell us how God had helped him with some problem and that God wanted to help those experiencing the same problem. He said that when he had first become a Christian he still smoked cigarettes. He was so ashamed that he would rub his fingers on a stone wall to try to get the nicotine stain off. As he was trying to give up tobacco he would get a tremendous urge for a cigarette, but would determine to fight it by saying 'praise The Lord' ten times. He found that by the time he had done this the urge had subsided and that the power of praise had helped him overcome this weakness. He learnt very early in his Christian walk the power of deliverance in praising God. I was to see many set free as I passed on this message of deliverance in praising God.
9 DEALING WITH DEATH

Almost every weekend was taken up either completely, or to some degree, in ministry. This was only possible because of the tremendous bond of marriage I enjoyed with Faith. She was very much a partner in ministry and cared not only for the practical and physical needs of our family, but for the spiritual. I knew that wherever I was travelling, whether I was on a street corner, at a great town hall or in some far off church that Faith would be supporting me in prayer.

Each of our children enjoyed this constant covering of prayer from her. She prayed for each one of them from before they were born, then in their cradles. She prayed for them whilst they sat on her knee or in their little beds and then right through their lives to this present day. I count myself a very fortunate man to have such a wife. Because our children had been bathed in prayer and brought up in an atmosphere of prayer, it became the most natural thing for them to do, so as soon as they had the words to speak they prayed. The prayers of our Sandra would move us to tears as she wept in prayer for her school classmates who did not know Jesus.

One by one each of our children made a commitment to Jesus. This really thrilled me. I so much wanted them to have their own walk with Jesus and have a faith of their very own and not be satisfied with being raised in a Christian home. They all confessed their faith and were baptised by total immersion in water (Believers Baptism). I was so glad each of them had made their own decision and not just gone along with the crowd or agreed to it because it was the expected or done thing. Whilst on a Glory Folk holiday, I was taking turns with Chris Winfield in baptising a number of new believers when my son Andrew came forward and I had the joy of baptising him.

Whilst they were children, we actively encouraged them to attend meetings but when they reached the age of discernment, then we allowed them to choose for themselves whether or not to attend. Again each one of them on reaching this age, chose to attend the meetings for themselves. David was the first to get married and he attended The Newark Fellowship with his wife. Andrew and Denise continued to attend the Fiskerton meetings with us and Sandra fell in love with and married an unsaved man. This resulted in a hard and awful life for her and became the beginning of the end of her freedom to attend fellowship.

Her husband had attended two meetings and had made an outward confession of faith but sadly this did not appear to change him and he did not grow in the faith. There is a saying, 'Where there is no life, there was no birth'. Only God knows the truth of it! Sandra went on to have two children, but after the birth of the second, she left her husband and early one morning came with her children to live with Faith and myself. She had reached the point where she could not go on any longer. She never blamed anyone but herself for her problem and repented before God; although she knew His forgiveness, she still had to face the consequences of a hard life after separation. I think she has realised that she had gone against the will of God for her life but she did not blame Him for her situation. Although my family did experience marriage breakdown and divorce, I still believe that God's ideal is that we should marry within the Christian faith and remain faithful. However, I know that when I repent of my sin, my Heavenly Father not only forgives me, but throughout it all never stops loving me. I tried to extend this unconditional love and compassion as best I knew how into my family's situation; Yes I was hurt but I never stopped loving.

In spite of hurts and difficulties I count myself very fortunate to have four lovely children and ten lovely grandchildren and a great grandchild. Our eldest son, David and his wife's firstborn son was called Wayne. He was an adorable little chap and I spent a lot of time with him. He was full of life and I would often take him out. His favourite place was along the river bank and we would play as we walked along; we had lots of fun together. A second son, Nicholas, arrived to the joy of all the family.

One day when Wayne was about three and a half years old, his mum helped him and Nicholas off a bus onto the pavement on Lincoln Road in Newark. His mother told Wayne to keep tight hold of the pushchair handle until she got Nicholas strapped in. For some unknown reason Wayne let go of the handle and ran into the path of an oncoming car on the main road. He sustained awful head injuries and was killed instantly. You can imagine we were all devastated and the grief and heartache was with us all for a long time.

Although I loved all my grandchildren, I think that during the time spent with Wayne, we had developed a very special relationship and now I was left with an emptiness that nothing else could fill; I felt broken. I tried to keep everything about him alive. I kept his dummies and the things he had played with hung up in my workshop. I recall one time that I was walking along the riverbank with Wayne when he came across a marker peg used by the fishermen to show their position during a fishing match. Wayne struggled and strained with it, but he could not move it. We laughed together at his struggle and I told him that he would never get it out.

We continued walking along the riverbank, sometimes with Wayne a few feet in front or behind me. Suddenly he ran from behind me proudly presenting me with a fishing peg that somehow he had managed to pull from the ground. I told him to put it back in such a way that Wayne was squealing with delight and laughing as I chased him back to the place where the peg belonged, and together we tapped it back into its hole. I so wanted to relive this time with Wayne that I returned to the riverbank and checked along the fisherman's pegs until I found the one Wayne had pulled out. It was like part of him. I pulled it out of the ground, brushed the soil off and held it close to me. I returned home with it and added it to my collection of Wayne's things in my workshop.

Some weeks after, I felt the Lord speak to me about Wayne, telling me that I had to let him die, I had to release him; so I went to my workshop and collected together everything that I had held on to that had memories of Wayne and put them all in the dustbin. From that time I was able to keep my memories of him, but I was freed from the idea that I had to somehow keep him alive physically by holding on to everything about him. Just after this I received further healing of my memory of Wayne from an unexpected source. A five year old cousin of Wayne had been questioning why Wayne had died. No human attempts seemed to answer his question but one night he had a dream. The next morning he came downstairs and related everything in the dream to his mum. He said, "Mum, I was dreaming about Wayne last night; he was sitting on the garden wall laughing and kicking his legs. I said to him, "Wayne, you shouldn't be here because you got killed on the road." He just kept laughing. Just the other side of the garden wall there was a man dressed in shining white. Wayne turned to the man, who waved to Wayne to go to him. Wayne jumped off the wall and ran to him. This answered the question in his cousin's mind that Wayne had gone to be with Jesus. It also answered something in my heart and I knew that out of all the grandchildren, I was certainly going to see one of them in Heaven. Praise God, since then many of them have given their hearts to Jesus.

A Christian friend came to comfort me during this time and said, "The word of God says, 'He causes all things to work together for good to those who love Him, to those who are called according to His purpose.' Can you accept this being part of the, 'All Things'?" Faith and I did accept this and never blamed or questioned God in this. We did not hold any resentment against the car driver and we prayed that she would be able to handle the memories of that terrible day. We didn't like what had happened but it was never allowed to interfere with our faith in God. Wayne's father is an ambulance driver who would normally have been on duty for call out on that day, but he had taken a day's leave to go sea fishing with other ambulance crewmen. I give thanks to God for His timing of this, so David was not called to his own son's accident.

In my marriage and family life I have enjoyed tremendous blessing. Faith and I have the same longing to serve the Lord. We have grown as Christians at almost the same pace. We have the same desire to love, serve and give to His work. We thank God, He has given us such a unity in this and such a love for each other. We thank God for our home, our marriage, the relationship and friendship that He has given us. We acknowledge these are God given and not of our own achievement. We are deeply in love and remain in that love; we tell each other many times a day that we love one another and the words, 'I love you sweetheart' are often to be heard in our home. We thank God that we don't fall out or have rows; He has given us a beautiful harmony in our marriage. Faith tends to be a 'homebird.' She is content in her home and does not have any desire to be travelling far and wide. When Faith came to know Jesus He set her free from wanting to be like someone else and she is content to be what God has made her.

There have been occasions when I thought it was right to do some particular thing, then a few weeks later I may have changed my mind. When I share this change of heart with Faith, it is invariably greeted by a knowing smile. You see Faith may not have been sure that my decision was right and she prayed that God would show me the right way. It's good to have Jesus as head of your home. I must have been saved from many a disaster and wrong decision by Faith's prayers.

Sometimes I would make mistakes in disciplining or decision making involving our children. Whilst the children were present Faith would always support me, but in private she would discuss how we had dealt with the events of the day and there were occasions when I knew I had acted wrongly, so I would go and apologise to my children and put things right with them. There was never an occasion when one parent smacked and the other cuddled; we always stood with one another. The children knew we were in unity and they could never play one off against the other.

We were determined to bring our children up in the knowledge of The Lord and we taught them to be honest. We went as far as saying that no matter what naughty thing they had done, provided they told the truth about it, then we would not punish them. Situations did arise when this promise was tested to the limit. Finding one of my tools broken one day I spoke to our eldest son, "David have you broken one of my tools?" He immediately replied, "Yes Dad". I was really wanting to smack his bottom, but I knew I had to keep my promise. I never knew him ever to tell me a lie.

When David was just starting school, before I had become a Christian, I was concerned that he would get bullied. I thought it would be a good idea to teach him to fight, so I got down on my knees in front of him and taught him to punch and kick to defend himself. I also taught him to swear. Even as a four year old he could curse and swear and give anyone an earful of abuse. When I became saved, I thought of David straight away. I had taught him all those swear words, what was I to do? I thought if I told him to stop saying these words that I had taught him to say, how would he understand? It was then that a lovely thing happened; since the day I was born again, David has never sworn, Even today, though he is a man of forty-five, I have still never heard him swear.

We tried to show in our family life, that as parents we were trustworthy and reliable; by this I mean we could be relied upon to keep our promises. If, for example, the children did something wrong, then I would promise that if they did it again they would get a smacked bottom, and I would keep my promise. On the other hand, if I had promised some treat or a trip out somewhere as a reward for some good schoolwork or some task completed at home, then I would keep my promise and my children would have their treat. They knew that I could be trusted and that I would always tell them the truth.

As the children grew and came to rely on me for the truth, then it became easy for them to accept what I told them from The Bible. Their trust in an earthly father led them into a natural trust in their Heavenly Father. Trusting what dad said did cause some problem though! When my daughters had got married, if some decision had to be made, they would both say, "I'll see what dad says". When this occurred, I had to advise them that now they were married, they must always turn to their husbands first for advice and guidance; although I must admit, it blessed me to know they still trusted me.

When we got our first car, it gave us a greater freedom to go out as a family. Everyone would pile into the car including the dog and sometimes my dad. Off we would go and perhaps have a picnic somewhere. The local woods were a great favourite for the children and the dog. I loved to make things for the children and became something of an expert in making trolleys and sledges. Bows, arrows and swords were also in popular demand. This proved to be a good apprenticeship for when my grandchildren came along!

There were certain unwritten rules that all our children knew, but from time to time they would test to see if they were still there. They knew, for example, that if they not just fell out but got nasty with each other, then I would smack everyone involved. I believe this helped them to grow up close to one another and develop a strong friendship that has continued into their adult life. I did not want them lying or putting the blame on each other to save their own necks. I never enjoyed having to chastise or smack my children. Perhaps their pride or their bottoms would be hurt for a while but they never saw how it hurt and affected me. I loved them so much and so wanted them to grow up as decent honest citizens, that I knew I had to discipline them, even if it did upset me so much it would put me off my food.

Our home in Newark was only a few yards from the main London to Edinburgh railway line. Some of the children in the area would run across this line playing 'chicken' with each other. Because of my concern about this life threatening danger, I had severely warned my children that if ever I found that any of them had gone on any railway property or anywhere near the lines, I would thrash them within an inch of their lives. I thought that my threat would be sufficient to keep them from this danger, but I was wrong!

It all started when my daughter Denise came home from school and complained that on a number of occasions a boy in her class who lived around the corner from us was bullying and tormenting her. She was getting more and more upset about this continuing problem so I determined that when the opportunity arose I would challenge this boy and give him a piece of my mind. I told Denise not to worry and to leave him to me.

A few days later Andrew came home dripping wet; he was soaked right through to his skin. I asked him how had he got wet and he blamed the same boy who had been tormenting Denise. Andrew went on to say that this boy had thrown a bucket of water over him. While Faith was getting all his wet things off, I went around to this lad's house. His father answered the door. He was a big man and towered above me, but I didn't care about his size and I told him what I would do to his son if he ever did anything like that again. I threatened that I would kick him through the third lace hole of my boot. His father replied, "There will be no need for you to do that; if my son has done this, then I will sort him out myself. He then exclaimed, "Just a minute, my son's playing football tonight; he's up at the school field playing for them." He got into his car saying, "Wait for me here. I'll go and check that he's there".

While I was waiting it dawned on me that my son Andrew was lying, he was putting the blame on this lad because of all the trouble that he was giving Denise, but the truth of the matter was that the only place our Andrew could get soaked through was if he had slipped into the dyke on the railway land. It was always full of water. I didn't wait for this father to return. I set off towards home, but before I reached home this same man and his wife stopped alongside me in their car. She spoke first and was quite cross with me, so I put my hands up and said, "I'm very sorry leave it with me."

I again set off for home, to be greeted by our Andrew walking towards me, this time in clean dry clothes. I pointed towards him and said, "You're a liar." He froze in his tracks and as I stepped towards him he turned on his heels and ran towards our backdoor, hotly pursued by me. As I caught up with him I started smacking his bottom; this continued through the house up the stairs, through his sisters' bedroom and into his own room. I closed his door, then turned and flung him onto his bed and gave his legs and bottom such a thrashing that he was screaming out. I was angry with him, not only had he told a lie and almost got the lad around the corner into trouble, but he had defied me and had risked his life going onto the railway. I certainly gave him a lesson to remember. I love him and couldn't stand the thought of losing him.

I was really concerned for his life and for the trauma that he would have caused some poor unsuspecting train driver, had he been killed. I did return to the house around the corner to give a full explanation. I told then what I had done to Andrew and I apologised to them. They were most understanding and seemed grateful that I had called and cleared the matter up. Funnily enough that was not quite the end of the story. The boy from this house continued to bully and torment Denise at school. Then one day she had just had enough, she turned on him and they ended up having quite a scrap. I don't know the outcome, but I do know from that day, she was never tormented again.

On my return to Newark I was very fortunate in that I always had a job. The very week I had handed my notice in at the dairy in Bathley I had been making my last delivery to a garage, when the boss there heard that I was leaving the dairy and offered me a job as mechanic starting that very next Monday. I worked for this garage for a number of years and after a while became manager. However circumstance took place that would lead to a change of direction in employment. This garage was cold and damp, and as in my previous experience of garage work, it was affecting my health, but it was a job and I was grateful for it.

During the winter I was called out in a snowstorm to a broken down Boots the chemist van. I pulled it off the road and then a helpful farmer allowed me to bring it out of the storm into the shelter of his barn to carry out repairs. As I was working under the van, the melting snow and water was falling on me, so I was soaking wet. It took most of the day to effect the repair and during that time I had been wet through and cold. This affected me and I was off sick for three weeks. I was not fully recovered but I thought I must make the effort to return to work. I feared in my mind that if I was off too long I would be dismissed.

I was greeted on the morning of my return to work by freezing fog. I remember arriving at work absolutely frozen. The first job I was given was to replace the clutch on a van. Unfortunately the van was too big to get into the workshop, so I had no shelter from the weather and no lifting gear. The boss told me that he would give me a hand as soon as he was free. This help never arrived. The cold was intense and I was chilled right through. My clothes were collecting frost and were turning stiff with ice and after a while I was hardly able to grip my tools. I stripped the engine down and struggled to lift the gear box out. I worked on during the afternoon fitting the new clutch. By now I was feeling really ill and numb with the cold. It was with great relief that I finished the job, packed up my tools and went home. I just collapsed straight into bed. I was feeling so weak and it was four or five hours before I started to warm through. I was too ill to go to work the next morning and it took me about a week to recover my strength. I knew that this job was no good for me. I had just had enough of struggling on in these conditions so I handed my notice in.

I had a succession of jobs after this; none seemed to satisfy me, and job-satisfaction was more important to me than the money. One company employed me as a Fitter/First Aid and Safety officer. I was quickly to find that if I remonstrated with a machinist for working without his safety guard, then the management appeared more interested in production levels than safety and would not support me in having the machine switched off until the safety guards were fitted. You see, I had signed a certificate for each machine that all the safety precautions and guards were correctly fitted, so I felt my integrity was at stake. Management seemed happy to undermine the safety standards, but I could not turn a blind eye. As I left work that day I knew I was in the wrong place and out of the will of God. I would miss the good money that came with the job, but I knew from experience that there would be no peace for me until I had found the place God wanted me to be in.

That very evening I returned home and decided to take the dog out for a walk. My two favourite walks were along Holme village riverbank and in Stapleford woods. I set off in my car intending to travel to Holme village, but for some unknown reason I ended up in the opposite direction in Stapleford woods. As I parked up I could see another car parked a short distance away. I got out of the car and was about to set off walking with the dog when my attention was attracted by the voice of a lady. Right next to this other car was a black lady who was now walking towards me. She said, "Is it brother Fred?" I said, "Yes." She said, "Do you remember me?" I replied, "Well I know your face but I can't put a name to it." She continued, "Well I was at the mission the day you got saved." We talked over old times for a while, then she said, "You used to work at the hospital, didn't you?" I nodded a yes. She smiled and said, "I think you should go back." I replied, "I would like to, but they have a ruling that if you work with them and then leave, they will not re-employ you." She repeated, "I think you should go back." I told her that I would like to very much and we chatted for a while then said our good-byes. As she was leaving me, she again said, "I think you should go back to the hospital."

I left her then walked my dog through the woods and pondered my meeting with her. No sooner had I arrived home than Faith told me that the head porter of the hospital had called and wondered if I wanted a job as a porter with him. He had a vacancy and my name was the only one he could think of, if I was interested I had to telephone him. I rang him and he told me that he had a man off long-term sick leave and he was short handed; he asked if I wanted the job. When I told him I would take the job, he told me that the money was terrible and that I should go and have a talk with him before deciding. At the interview he told me the pay was twenty-nine pounds a week. This was a dramatic drop from what I was earning! He told me that the job was temporary until the situation of the man on long term sick leave was resolved. I told him that I would risk that and take the job. When I handed my notice in as safety officer I was offered more money to stay, but I knew that I had to leave.

It was during my first week at the Newark hospital that my grandson was killed. The head porter was very good and gave me three days compassionate leave, they were all very helpful and sympathetic. As I settled back into hospital work, I had a peace and a certain knowledge that I was in the right place for God. I was given many opportunities to pray with people, to share the love of Jesus and bring encouragement as I went about my tasks. God seemed to bring situations and people across my path and give me chances to tell the Good News about Jesus. Again I saw many give their hearts to the Lord. I look back on all the circumstances that drew me to the hospital-my dissatisfaction with my former job, going to a different location than I had intended to walk my dog, the chance meeting with that black lady. her telling me to go back to the hospital, then the head porter having my name on his mind after years of not seeing or hearing from me; finally there was the peace of knowing I was in the place God wanted me to be in, so I could be his servant and ambassador. How can people say there is no God and put this kind of thing down to coincidence? I know for certain that He directs my path because He loves me and He can arrange these incidents to bring about His will for me.
10 GOD'S POSIBILITIES

Of course I knew some of the possibilities and opportunities I would have as I took up my position as a porter in the hospital. Yes, I was a Christian and I did want to share the love of Jesus, but my first responsibility was to my employer. I prayed for wisdom in getting the right balance between witnessing and work, not that I ever tried to compartmentalise these because being a Christian is a way of life. It is possible that you may have the impression that I was witnessing all the time! Well, I hope I was, not necessarily with my mouth, but by my whole lifestyle. This included being punctual, doing every task to the best of my ability and not being a clock watcher if some job had to be done as my duty time finished. The Bible tells me that whatever I do, I must do it as unto Him; just as if Jesus was there watching, and I can assure you that His standard of excellence is much higher than any Earthly boss.

There was a time when as a young and zealous Christian, I would grab hold of the first person I saw and tell them the Gospel. God has since taught me a better way. Before going to work I would spend an hour in prayer. For example, if I started work at six a.m., I would have to leave the house at 5.40 a.m., so I had then to organise myself to allow one hour of prayer before 5.40 a.m. Let me explain how God revealed to me the value of this time spent in prayer.

Early one morning I read the parable of the sower. Usually I would put my Bible down and then pray, but it seemed that the Lord was saying, 'Think on these things'. As I looked at the story, I saw a farmer sowing seed. There was nothing wrong with the man who was the farmer doing his job and nothing wrong with the seed. The problem seemed to be was where the seed was falling. The Holy Spirit spoke to me saying, "That's what you are doing, just throwing the seed anywhere. There is a better way." Then I knew within me that I must pray for the ground; pray for deep fertile soil in the hearts of men and women. This became a tremendous turning point in my life and I spent much more time asking God to open doors to bring opportunities and to prepare hearts to receive the seed of His word.

That very day a nurse came up to me and said, "Fred, I know you are a Christian; I would like you to tell me about it sometime." Wow, God hadn't wasted any time! This was a wonderful opportunity for me to tell her about the love of Jesus and what He had done for her. She was eager to hear and receive what I had to say to her. God had answered my prayer in a wonderful way and there were more answers to come. The nurse I had spoken to told another nurse about me. She then asked me for some help with a personal family problem which needed dealing with. I promised to pray about it. As the Lord gave me wisdom, I was able to bring hope and direction in a difficult situation which encouraged her faith.

During my early days in the Health Service, each hospital had its own matron in charge. This, in my opinion, was the best form of management the Health Service ever had. The matrons would have a reputation of ruling with a rod of iron, perhaps instilling a degree of fear into the staff, but I found them most efficient and caring people. They knew everything that happened in the hospital, so if you were like me and enjoyed playing pranks on the staff or patients, then you made sure Matron did not catch you. If you ever did anything wrong she would come down on you like a ton of bricks; however as she had come through the ranks, her discipline was tempered with understanding, but woe betide you if you tried to pull the wool over her eyes.

My duties during the night shift were primarily to respond to emergencies and be responsible for security, so I was to find that after my security rounds there was sometimes very little work to do except remain available on the bleeper system. One night after everyone was settled down for the night and it had turned quiet, this same nurse who had asked for help with a family problem asked me to join her and some of the other nurses on the ward for a cup of tea. In the dim night light I could see four or five nurses sat around a table. As soon as I joined them this same nurse said, "Now then Fred, these things you have been telling me about God, would you like to tell the other girls?" I responded to them by saying, "Is there anything you want to ask me?" Then for a very long time, there was a constant stream of questions; about life, why babies die, why people suffer, why God allows war. As the night wore on and the questions and answers continued, I began to grasp the power and value of time spent in prayer. I was amazed that God had done so much, so effectively in such a short time. I was just so thrilled with what God was doing, there was no way I wanted to go back to sowing seed on hard and stony ground or amongst the thorns and thistles, when God had a better way.

I was very fortunate during my time working in the hospital that I never suffered any persecution for my faith. There was never any animosity or bad feeling, in fact I enjoyed the favour and respect of all the staff. This made it easy for me to have the right mental attitude towards them. I did not see them as enemies of God and people to be at odds with just because they did not believe the same as I did. I knew God loved each one of them and I wanted to be a channel of His love to them. True I didn't always want to live their kind of life or be involved with some of the pleasures they enjoyed, but these things did not block God's love towards them.

The variety of situations God arranged to extend His love to the staff never ceased to amaze me! On one occasion I was working in the corridor with another Christian staff member called Ray. We were approached by a nurse who knew we were both Christians. She just poured her heart out right there in the middle of the corridor. She told us that she had given birth to a baby out of wedlock and now that she was married, she desperately wanted a baby, but she could not conceive. She believed that this was a punishment from God for having a baby out of wedlock. We both assured her that this was not God's punishment on her and we all committed ourselves to pray for her and her husband that they would be blessed with a baby.

Some two and a half months later I again saw this nurse, this time beaming all over her face. She told me the wonderful news that she was pregnant. I was even happier as she acknowledged that God had done this for her. Ray and I had a practice of spending some of our meal break in the hospital chapel praying. At our next meeting we had quite a celebration as we gave thanks to God for answered prayer. God was to give me many more reasons to thank Him as I saw prayer answered amongst staff and in various situations.

In the stillness of the night, I would sometimes write a poem or a 'thought for the day' that I would put on the staff notice board. Sometimes it was a scripture, a word of encouragement or perhaps how I believed God saw some everyday situation. I never signed my name to these but I didn't need to as staff would see me later and comment that I had been writing again. Some of the notices I would leave around were Gospel tracts, a simple introduction to meeting Jesus. I felt it was right that from time to time I should do this, but not overdo it. I had to get the balance right and respect the position and freedom of the staff.

Some of my writing had to be deliberately disguised; you see I am a bit of practical joker and if I had used my own writing, then the staff would not fall for the joke. For example just before Easter, I advertised that the hospital secretary had a large number of chocolate eggs she was selling off at a very low price. Unfortunately on this occasion, I was discovered. I went to collect my pay from the office and the secretary said, "Now Fred, I have been getting a lot of visitors and telephone callers asking to order these Easter eggs. I have done some detective work and worked out when the notice first appeared and who was on duty." Then with a knowing look she said, "I know who the culprit is." We then both had a laugh together.

Getting found out did not stop me and this was the first of many notices, the chance of some bargain or something for nothing seemed to encourage some staff to walk right into my joke. A pram wanted urgently or a toupee for sale was always good for a laugh. I like to think that the staff did not see me as a religious misery but as someone with a sense of humour who enjoyed a joke.

Even in the operating theatre we enjoyed the occasional joke. One of the surgeons would tell us the story that he had warned the porter to watch out for three black students who had asked permission to view an operation he was performing. He started the operation and the porter went to look for the expected students. After some time he returned with three black men who had been fitted out with caps and gowns, face masks and boots. He said, "Hello" and they replied, "Hello". He went on to explain what he was doing in the operation and then invited all three forward to view his work inside the patient's abdomen. They all fainted and crashed to the floor. He told the porter to get them all out. The porter took them into the recovery room where, to his horror, he discovered that they were not the expected students, but three friends coming to visit a patient on the ward. I was never sure whether he was telling the truth or just telling a story to lighten the atmosphere in the theatre.

One of my jobs as porter was to prepare the male patients for surgery. I had done this years earlier as a ward orderly and once again it fell to me to shave all the hair from the relevant parts of the body, depending on the nature of the operation. I was to find that many of the men were facing the operation with great fear and apprehension about the future. I found I was able to get alongside them as man to man and discuss their fears. I found my previous experience on the wards and in the operating theatre a great help as I could now put this knowledge to good effect and explain the whole procedure, from 'prepping up,' (being prepared for the operation) through the theatre, coming out from anaesthetic to their expected recovery times. The fear of the unknown had seemed a major problem, but after explanations, and with the right kind of encouragement and support, their fears subsided and their minds were more at peace as they set off for the operating theatre. Sometimes we would discuss fear; some would ask, "What if I die under the anaesthetic?" If the conversation led in this direction then I would sometimes introduce the spiritual dimension and talk about our soul that lives on after death and God's plan for us all. Sometimes the Holy Spirit would reveal something about the man that I was prepping, so I would mention this in my conversation with him. Invariably this would spotlight some hidden fear or incident in the patient's past, which in the light of his possibly dying, he now regretted and wanted to resolve, before entering the theatre.

Sadly, there were a few occasions when the conversation I had with a patient was the last he would ever have, as for some reason he did not survive. I think that because of the impending operation I had been able to develop a friendship and perhaps discuss and deal with the more important, deeper and personal issues that under normal circumstance would never be raised. My relationship with the deceased somehow seemed to bring some kind of comfort to the bereaved family. Sometimes the grieving family would come to view the body and one of the family, perhaps the mother, would be standing on her own sobbing and breaking her heart. If ever I saw this situation, I realised that any words of comfort would go unheard as the mind becomes numb and positive action is required. I would walk across to her and give her a hug, then I would encourage the rest of the family to support mum in her grief by hugging her and letting her feel their support. Sadly some families have become so distant, that the therapeutic hug of comfort is no longer a part of family tradition. Sometimes of course it was the man who needed a hug and God seemed to sweep away any inhibitions I may have had and I would give that man a firm hug and comfort him.

My most emotionally disturbing times at the hospital involved the death of babies. Perhaps a mother has rushed into casualty with a dead baby in her arms, the tragic victim of a cot death. The mother just cannot believe or accept that her baby has died and somehow expects the doctors and nurses to revive it. She clings on tightly to the cold lifeless body as the doctor pronounces life extinct. It then falls upon me to take the baby from the mother's arms. You can imagine the distress and torment of the mother. The idea that this could never happen to her baby, yet I have to release the distraught mother's grip and lift the lifeless little body from its sobbing mother who is in a daze of unbelief at what is happening. My heart cries out and I want to weep with her, but I have this terrible task to perform. If the husband is present I get them to console one another as I slip out of the room, cradling this little bundle, that only a few weeks ago brought such joy and now such grief. I lay the cold still body gently down inside the mortuary and dry my tears before returning. Some mothers just flatly refuse to let their baby go. There is no clinical answer to this. I pray for God's help and show the mother my love for her baby and that she can entrust the care of her baby into safe and loving hands. Sometimes I would see the father there, standing on his own as all the comfort and attention was being given to the mother. I know that his grief and his hurts are just as real although perhaps hidden inside, away from view. Seeing this I would gently draw the couple together and get them to hug one another. If there hadn't been a close loving relationship between them, now was the time to start one. Sometimes the shock of this trauma shuts off everything that is said but I know that they always respond to love.

I recall a saying of Saint Augustine, 'It is our job as Christians to preach the Gospel and only use words if we really have to.' I have found that love in action works, although you may not necessarily see the results for a long time. Such was the case when a young lady approached Faith and me, saying, "I know you." To be honest neither of us could remember her. She continued, "The reason I remember you is that I was a drug addict in a drug rehabilitation centre when you both came to visit. You both came across to me and gave me a hug. That was the first time anyone has ever shown me any love and I have never forgotten that." Her remembrance of this incident opened the door for me to talk to her about The King of Love, my Jesus.

A new porter started at the Hospital and it fell to me to train him in his new job. He was a strong young man and appeared well suited. As we were working in the Casualty Department one day I decided cheer him up, along with other staff, by telling them a joke. We were all enjoying a good laugh when our laughter was cut short by a commotion in the corridor. It was obviously a drunk causing some trouble. The casualty doors burst open and a skinny looking man who was blind drunk was carried in and placed on the examination table. The casualty sister discovered that he had drunk so much whiskey that he was in danger of dying from alcohol poisoning if he was not stomach pumped straight away. I knew what to expect so I told the new porter to hold his legs while I held his arms. I warned the trainee that when the sister started to pump him out he would turn so violent that we would hardly be able to hold him down. The new porter looked at me with that look that said 'you must be joking' as he flexed his big shoulders and held the drunken man's legs down. The sister inserted the tube down the patient's throat and started the procedure. Sure enough the man started to fight and we were both getting thrown around like rag dolls. I was fearful that we would injure him as we struggled together. Another nurse came to help us and I prayed, Lord you will either have to increase our strength or reduce his. The sister was struggling to keep the tube in; I looked at the sister and she looked back at me. I then repeated the punch line of the joke that I had just been telling them. The sister burst out laughing and we all joined in; even the patient started laughing and stopped his struggle. He just lay back and laughed and laughed, even as I took him up onto the ward he was still laughing. He still doesn't know to this day what he was laughing about, but I thank God for the humour that defused that violent situation. Sometimes it would be the patient that would provide the humour. I recall one patient telling the doctor, "Oh doctor, I'm bunged up with diarrhoea". which had everyone in fits of laughter except the patient, who had not realised what he had said. Humour was a very important means of bringing release in a tense situation and was often used to good effect in the hospital.

It was only natural that I would develop friendships with the patients. Some had been nursed from the brink of death and over weeks to full recovery. They were more to me than just another case on the conveyor belt, so as time passed that friendship would develop into a real love. This probably made the pain harder to bear if they suddenly died. Yes, I had laughed and joked with them. Yes, I had talked with them on more serious matters, but this was not just a superficial meeting, it was a deep personal relationship and their loss caused me real grief. Over the years I was to grieve over many good friends but the pain of these losses never stopped me entering into new friendships on the grounds that if I did not develop a relationship, then I would not feel the pain of grief at their loss.

Some cases that came in appeared hopeless. I remember one young motor cyclist brought in unconscious. He was in a terrible mess; he had a serious skull fracture, his eyes were blackened and swollen closed. He was so bad in fact that he was not expected to live. I saw the damage to his crash helmet; it was obvious by the damage that he must have skidded along the road on his head for quite some distance. This young man was in a coma for a long, long time. Every day I would come to the side of his bed and pray, 'God, give him another chance'. Eventually he woke from the coma and, apart from some memory loss, made a full recovery. He was discharged whilst I was on my day off, but as I went about my duties he kept coming to my mind. I thought I must do something about this, so I wrote a letter telling him that I had been praying for him and that I had asked God to give him a second chance. There was no reply but I knew it was right to let him know what God had done for him.

Some times there are events in the hospital that are beyond explanation; I saw a British Road Services lorry driver brought in. He had been involved in a horrific accident in East Stoke, where his lorry had turned over. The side window of his cab had almost completely severed his head from his body. All that was holding his head on was his spine and windpipe. I was amazed he was still alive as he had lost so much blood that he was very close to bleeding to death. This driver was nursed back to health and made an amazing recovery. Some time later I met him in town and he told me that he had lost his driving job but was enjoying life. It was months later as I came onto the ward on night shift that I saw this same man had been admitted in a coma. He died within a few hours from an abscess on the brain. It really made me wonder. This driver had recovered from such horrific injuries, many hours had been spent nursing him back to health, I had spent a lot of time praying for him, and now he was gone. I recalled all the joy as his family had come to collect him when he had been discharged from hospital after his accident. Now I saw their grief and sad loss.

Just inside the hospital entrance, there were a few seats where visitors often sat. As I passed by this area while attending to my porter's duties, a gentleman sitting there said, "I could never work in a hospital." I replied, "Why is that, me duck?" He went on to tell me that he had an awful fear of death and he would do anything to avoid coming in contact with anything relating to death. If he saw a hearse coming down the street, then would turn down a side road or turn around rather that face it. As he spoke, the word 'fortune telling' came into my mind. I enquired if he had been involved with anything to do with fortune telling. He told me that as a young boy he had been brought up by an elderly aunt who made him sit with her at a table whilst she told the fortunes of various visitors. I was able the explain how a spirit of fear had entered him, even though at that age he was in all innocence and was not actively involved with his Aunt. The spirit was trying to control him, but he didn't have to put up with it, and together we could ask Jesus to deal with it. I told him it had to be Jesus as He is the only one who has authority over such things. It was months before I saw this man again. He grabbed me by the arm, thanked me for helping him and told me that all his fear of death was gone. He was completely free from living with this fear constantly plaguing him. I did tell him a little more about Jesus, but the Bible tells us 'that one plants, another waters and God give the increase.' There was a time when I thought it was my duty to do all three, but now I knew that a seed had been sown in this man's heart and God could arrange the next step. God has taught me patience in these matters and I can leave things to his timing.

There was a time when it was an offence to attempt to commit suicide. The usual practice was that the offender was brought into the hospital to recover. During their stay they would be guarded by a policeman. On one particular occasion the policeman wanted to go to the toilet and he asked me to guard the man. As I engaged the man in conversation he told me that he had tried to kill himself by jumping in the river, but a policeman had dived in and saved him. He had tried to drown himself three times before, but each time someone had pulled him out. The man then went on to say that as soon as he got out of hospital he would try again and put an end to it all. I picked up his obsession with drowning and told him that there were a lot of easier and quicker ways to kill oneself. I said that I knew lots of ways but I had never found a way to kill the soul. He looked puzzled and asked me what I meant. I explained that we can kill our bodies but not our soul, that lives on forever. I went on to say that if we kill our bodies, then one day we have to account to God why we had destroyed our body. This realisation seemed to have a shock effect on him. He had been like a drunken man who in a moment of time had become sober. I told him about God's salvation plan as he listened intently to everything I said. The constable returned and I left the man to consider this new realisation.

My time at Newark General Hospital was suddenly cut short as I was involved in an accident at work which injured my spine. This left me with very little lifting ability, so I was transferred to the nearby Hawtonville Hospital where my physical duties were much lighter. Hawtonville was a very old hospital, part of which had been the workhouse in Victorian days, but now it dealt mainly with the long term care of the elderly. Some of the patients hated coming to this hospital, as they still saw it as a workhouse. Others felt that if they came in, they would never get out alive. Unfortunately this fear became a reality for many. Their homes had been disposed of and to their minds, they were waiting to die. For me though, this new situation was full of opportunity to share the love of Jesus. It is true that some of the elderly had become hardened and embittered by this world, but many others had a greater openness and frankness in talking about matters of life, death and spiritual things. I had the joy of praying with many of them as they gave their hearts to Jesus just before they died. Some talk about being saved at the eleventh hour, but I knew many who for whom it was the eleventh hour and fifty-ninth minute!

Even in my last week working at Hawtonville I was to see God at work in the closing moments of a life; I called on to a ward to see a particular patient, but finding him asleep I decided not to disturb him. Before I left the ward, my attention was attracted to a very tall and thin eighty-nine year old man who was obviously suffering a lot of pain. I went over to have a few words with him. It appeared that his whole body was being eaten away by cancer. He told me that he could not bear his pain any longer. I said, "Do you know how much Jesus loves you?" He replied, "No, no lad I don't." I then told him the story of Calvary and that Jesus had hung on the cross for him because he loved him so much. I asked him if he would like to pray and ask the Lord into his heart and save him from his sin. He asked me to pray with him. I prayed the sinner's prayer with him. I said, "Believe what you are saying and that God is listening. Pray after me these words: Thank you Jesus that I understand that I am a sinner. I need to repent and I am sorry for all my sin. I ask your forgiveness and ask you to come into my heart and life to be my saviour to guide and lead me from this day on." I enquired if he had understood everything. He broke into a smile and nodded a yes. I left him, telling him that I would see him the next day. I kept my promise and on the following day we had another talk. We spoke about the prayer we had prayed together and he assured me that he understood everything he had done. As I drew my visit to a close, I told him that I was going to a prayer meeting that night and I would be praying for him. At the prayer meeting I explained about the man, about his terrible pain and that he had nothing to live for. We prayed that the Lord would take him. When I returned to work I found that his bed was empty and that he had died just a few hours after the prayer meeting.

Whilst I was working at Hawtonville Hospital, Sir John Eastwood, who owned a poultry company, made a very generous grant to the hospital that enabled the Area Health Authority to build the Eastwood Day Hospital. This would provide, amongst other things; physiotherapy, occupational therapy, medical treatment and support for out patients and those in the adjoining Hawtonville Hospital. I knew there was going to be a vacancy for a porter in the new day hospital so I talked with the head porter and asked if I could apply. He responded by telling me that I could apply if I wanted, but I would not get the job as, in his opinion, it was a new building, a new job and they wanted a new man; so they would employ someone from outside. I asked if he would be offended if I applied, but he had no objections, and told me I was within my rights to apply. He then assured me there was no way I would get the job.

As I was filling in the various sections of the application form, The Lord impressed on me that I must write a letter and enclose it with my application. I thought to myself, 'I've never been much of a letter writer, but I will, because you want me to, Lord.' As I put pen to paper the Lord impressed upon me the things He wanted me to say; first, that I understood that the job was to be an 8a.m. to 5p.m. Monday to Friday position and that there would be no overtime given for any reason. I foresaw that during the bad winter weather, ambulances could be delayed in collecting patients to transport them home. This could be long after the porter's duty times, so they needed to employ someone who was not a clock watcher and would be happy to stop until the last patient had been collected, regardless of the time. The hospital authorities knew that I had the interests of the patient at heart and was not a clock watcher. Secondly, it was important to have a porter who could be trusted with personal belongings and valuables, particularly with ladies who insisted on taking their handbags everywhere, often with valuables inside. My honesty had been proven on numerous occasions as I had found large amounts of cash and valuables on bodies that had been brought in and not searched properly; on every occasion I had correctly recorded and handed over the property. The last issue I wrote about concerned some of the ladies using the toilet. They would look around for someone they could trust, someone they could feel comfortable with as some would need assistance removing underwear and getting dressed afterwards. My previous experience showed that I could be relied upon to fulfil this role honourably. I submitted my application form with the enclosed letter. On the very next day the head porter approached me and said, "We have read your application and you need not have any worries or apprehension about the job because it's yours." I almost felt like saying, "I know," because I knew God was in the situation and wanted me to have this job.

I really enjoyed my time at the Eastwood Day Hospital and again had the privilege of leading many to a knowledge of Jesus. Again I was to know God directing me to a specific person, and how often I would find that God had already prepared that person's heart to receive my words. It was obvious that someone had been praying for them and others had been showing them the love of Jesus. Each day I would be given a list of patients to collect from the adjacent Hawtonville Hospital and bring them into the Eastwood Day Hospital for their various treatments. One day I went with a wheelchair to collect a lady from the ward. When I arrived at her bedside I could see she was struggling to get her false teeth in. As I waited for her to get ready, she gave up the struggle with her teeth and opened her handbag. Peering inside she plucked something out and threw it on the floor saying, "That's not mine." She took something else out of her handbag and threw that on the floor saying, "And that's not mine." At that point a nurse came across to me and said, "What seems to be the matter, Fred?" I replied, "She seems to have some things in her handbag that don't belong to her." The smiling nurse responded, "No, the handbag isn't hers either." I then realised that the teeth she had been trying to put in her mouth were not her own and that she already had her teeth in. No wonder she was having trouble getting the other pair in! It was usually easy enough to trace the owner of a handbag, but if some forgetful patient had been going around collecting sets of false teeth, then you were guaranteed a lot of fun sorting it all out!
11 NEVER THE SAME AT FISKERTON

Henri and Connie lived in the Nottinghamshire village of Fiskerton, about six or seven miles from my hometown, Newark. Their bungalow was beautifully situated on the riverbank of a long sweep of the River Trent. There was a large grassed area at the side of their property which was sheltered by a number of well established trees. The access road opened out onto wide, well-manicured grass verge which led into a large car park and turning area. This was bounded by the bungalow, a garage and workshop and trees. Hidden amongst the trees was a wooden building housing a caravan. On the riverside of the bungalow was a sun lounge affording fine views of the river sweeping into the distance, it also overlooked a small jetty where Henri's boat used to be moored. It was altogether a peaceful and idyllic rural setting and I was delighted when Henri and Connie invited our family to stay in their caravan for two weeks whilst they were away on ministry.

Together with dog and tortoise we made the most of this welcome holiday. During my stay there a lady from the village invited me to attend a garden party in the grounds of one of the big houses in the village. On arriving I was introduced to Sheila, the lady of the house, who was hosting the party. I quickly realised there were a lot of Methodists there, together with the circuit minister and his son. As we were all congregating and being introduced to one another, a well dressed man about forty years old, whom I took to be the butler, came around with a tray of drinks and served us all lemonade.

The minister got up to speak, so we all found somewhere to sit and settle down to listen to him. After a few moments he introduced his son saying that he had received a revelation from the word of God and wanted to share it with us. The nineteen year old college student stood up and spoke to us about the occasion when Jesus asked Peter, 'Do you love me?' He then went on to explain about the different kinds of love and that Jesus was emphasising that we should love with 'AGAPE' love. The minister stood up again and told many different ways in which we can get people to go to church. As he came out with all these different ideas, I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck start to bristle. I just had to speak out! As soon as an opportunity arose I said, "Are you saying that all we have to do is get people into church and everything will be all right?" The minister replied, "Well, yes." I responded, "Not according to the word of God, Jesus said we must be born again or we will never see the Kingdom of God." I went on to give my testimony of how I had been 'Born Again'. I went on to say that we could live the life of a Christian, even in a boiler suit in a dirty garage and that Jesus was alive in me.

It was some time later that I was to discover that the man bringing the drinks around was not the butler but Arthur, the husband of Sheila, our hostess. He was the managing director of a large company. He told me that at the time of the garden party he was not a Christian and he believed that Christianity was the opium for the masses. He had overheard me give my testimony and saying that you could live and witness as a Christian in a boiler suit. This had really spoken to him. He left the party, walked through the house and into the paddock, where he had fallen on his knees and given his heart to the Lord.

From this, a lovely friendship developed between us. Sheila and now Arthur had become very involved in Fiskerton Methodist Church. They invited me to attend meetings there and after some time suggested I become a member. After I was received into membership, one thing seemed to lead into another. I was placed on the plan as a preacher and I enjoyed the opportunity of sharing God's word and meeting other Christians in the Southwell area. I was then invited onto the Church Council because I was told I was evangelical and they wanted my help and support with the spiritual life of the church. It appears that the time of this council was often taken up with the concerns of repairs, painting and all the other, often urgent, sadly neglected needs of the church. Rightly or wrongly I agreed and regularly attended these church business meetings. During one of these meetings, a letter was read out, it was from my friend Henri Staples. He was asking permission to use the church building on Saturday nights to hold Glory Meetings. There was some opposition to the church being used for this purpose but there were just enough votes for this request to be approved and Henri was granted a ten year licence to use the church.

The beginnings of the Saturday meeting were not without problems. One of the church members who was strongly opposed to Glory meetings and their methods of evangelism came to the church just before the meeting and read the electricity meter; on the Sunday morning he again read the meter, thus establishing how much electricity the Glory Folk had used. Sure enough, at the very next council meeting, the matter of electricity used on Saturday nights was raised. I knew how Henri would react to this, so I took the liberty of speaking for him. I told the meeting that when the bill came in it should be handed to me and that I would ensure that the Glory folk paid not only what they had used but the whole fuel bill including everything incurred by the Methodist meetings. After some huffing and puffing this arrangement was agreed to. The root of this complaint was not so much about a bill but more about opposition to the freedom and liberty of the Glory Folk.

It was not long before another issue was brought to the attention of the church council. During the Glory meeting some had been dancing with joy in the Spirit when one of the floorboards collapsed. It was not really surprising-the building was over a hundred years old; it was damp, with areas of both wet and dry rot. The organ stood at an alarming angle where it had collapsed and settled through the floor. The platform and pews were loose and rocked dangerously. I listened carefully to the complaint then offered that Henri's Revivals Association would not only replace the damaged floorboard but would replace the whole floor; this was readily accepted. The Revival Association not only replaced the floor, but over a period of time installed a damp course and central heating, built a new platform, removed the organ and replaced the pews with new chairs; this was all at their own expense.

There was no such thing as a typical Glory meeting, every one was different. The only thing that remained unchanged was that we met every Saturday night to praise The Lord. My dear friend Albert would arrive at five o'clock and get everything ready, ensuring the building was warm, the tea urn was on and the sound equipment was tested. I would arrive about three quarters of an hour before the meeting and be there to greet people on their arrival. Often before the official starting time Albert would pick up his accordion and start praising God with a joyful chorus. We sang them over and over, perhaps fifteen or twenty times until the truth of God's promises broke through to us.

The Holy Spirit brought a liberty and freedom into the meeting. There was a tremendous desire to declare the goodness of God. Sometimes as many as twenty would stand to testify what God had done for them, perhaps a healing, a deliverance or some problem solved by God's intervention. There would be joy and laughter, choruses would be started from amongst the congregation. Some would break into clapping or dancing and there would be leaps of joy. During all this Albert was still very much in charge and would firmly stop anything that did not give the Glory to God or was out of line with the word of God, or perhaps cut across the move of the Holy Spirit.

Henri had always encouraged what he called, 'An open platform'. Anyone was free to stand up and share a song, a scripture, some testimony or even preach. Albert was always close at hand to encourage them, pray with them or if necessary stop them. In the early days at Fiskerton, Henri himself would attend and take the leadership roll. I saw many come to a knowledge of salvation and be filled with the Holy Spirit under his ministry. He was a great encourager and motivator.

God gave Albert and myself a wonderful unity of spirit and a great love for one another. This deep understanding of one another was to prove vitally important in the ensuing years as we shared leadership problems and trials together. Henri was getting older and the travelling and ministry was taking its toll on him. The time came when he would miss the occasional meeting, then gradually as the months passed, he came less and less. We missed his wonderful ministry, his encouragement and unique personality but even when he was not with us, Albert and I could hear his encouraging words ringing in our ears, 'It's in you, lad; get on with it,' and we did.

The numbers slowly dropped off as news spread amongst the Glory Folk that Henri was now only able to attend the occasional meeting. Albert and I remained faithful. I was often used, sharing the scriptures or bringing a word of encouragement but Albert was still very much the leader. Somehow we just knew what the other was going to do; there was a beautiful harmony between us. Months passed and still just a small number attended the meetings. We hung onto God's promises and knew Him as a faithful God, a keeper of promises. The Lord rewarded with an outpouring of blessing in the meetings and over a period of time the numbers built up and it was not too long before once again we were bursting at the seams with visitors, some of whom had travelled over a hundred miles to worship with us.

Henri would make an occasional visit to the Fiskerton meeting and always bring a blessing and some encouragement. One of Henri's practices was to pick someone apparently at random and invite them onto the platform. He would then encourage them to tell what Jesus had done in their lives. There was no doubt that some of those he invited up were reluctant to come and even more reluctant to speak in public, but there was something about Henri's personality that could loosen the most tied of tongues. Sometimes Henri would respond with something like, "Well, that's all very nice, me duck; you have told us what Jesus did for you all those years ago, but what about today, what has he done for you today?" Henri seemed to have a nose for anyone with a dry or empty spirit or for someone who was living on past experiences. This would usually result in a time of prayer and words of encouragement that would in turn lead into another time of praise as some bondage or dryness had been dealt with. When deliverance or release came, songs like, 'My shackles are gone, my spirit is free. Oh praise The Lord, He lifted me,' would often be sung.

Henri had taught us that if you open your platform to the Holy Spirit then you also open it to other spirits, so Albert, who had a similar ministry to Henri, was very watchful that everything done and said agreed with scripture. We had a unity in this and would stand together against any error or wrong issue. One of us would then either give a word of correction or perhaps, teaching from God's word, declaring His truth in the matter. In reality persons invited onto the platform could be put on the spot, perhaps even feel embarrassed, but if they meant business with God, then they were in the right place to receive a blessing. Both Albert and I had to be big enough to sit down, if for example, the Lord had prompted someone else to speak. Some, of course, would get up and say that they did not believe in this kind of meeting. We would carefully listen, then respond with why we believed this liberty in the Holy Spirit was God's plan, often the testimonies that followed confirmed God's word in this area.

As we invited the Holy Spirit to come and minister, almost anything could happen. Some folk fell to the floor under the power of the Holy Spirit; others laughed, which for some, seemed to bring an inner release of some personality inhibitions. Still others wept uncontrollably and openly repented of their sin. Groups prayed for one another, the sound of speaking in tongues could be heard from different parts of the church. Quiet waves of sound would sweep around the building, increasing as more joined in singing and playing musical instruments in the spirit. The noise would subside to almost a whisper, then we would bathe in a Holy silence so fragile no one dared utter a sound. Sometimes the silence would be broken by a beautiful clear voice of someone singing a song in tongues to an unknown tune. We knew we were in His Holy presence.

What a privileged people we were! There were often manifestations of other spiritual gifts, words of knowledge and prophecy. Although there were tongues and interpretation of tongues, Henri had always been very cautious, as a few visitors had given their own interpretation, the content of which had been contrary to the scriptures. Henri had been so anxious to let the Holy Spirit have His way in the meetings that anything of man's imagination was quickly stopped and the meeting brought back on track, praising and giving God the Glory, not quenching the Holy Spirit.

The answer to misuse of a Spiritual gift was not, 'no use', but teaching 'right use', and that is what we did. Healings were not looked on as extraordinary but as something to be expected. In fact we were taught to be amazed if healings did not take place. If one of the visitors indicated they had a need, then others round about would pray that God would meet that need. One or two might pray, or there could be twenty. Signs and wonders were always expected. Virtually every week one or two people were saved. One week a whole family of Jehovah's Witnesses gave their hearts to Jesus. Sometimes a well-known minister from one of the main stream churches would visit. They were not given any preferential treatment, and although free to come on to the platform, it was just as likely that a dustman, lorry driver or a mechanic would share the scriptures. We had a saying, 'It's by their fruits you shall know them, not by their suits'.

The variety of experiences we enjoyed under the anointing of the Holy Spirit had power to intervene and change the lives of those attending the meeting. Some long held attitudes and beliefs, although sincere, had been sincerely wrong, and were changed under the anointing. It was beautiful to see the Holy Spirit use the simplest of words to break the most intransigent of positions. We sang the chorus,

'By the anointing Jesus breaks the yoke,

By the Holy Ghost and Power, just as the prophet spoke.

This is the day of the later rain.

God is moving in power again.

By the anointing He breaks the yoke.'

................................................................................................and I found this to be so true.

One of the faithful regular supporters was a Homeopathic Doctor from Hull. He was in the meeting when we had a visit from a devout Baptist, who had a tremendous knowledge of the scriptures. The Doctor came onto the platform and told the following story. "In my practice as a doctor, if I were to ask some of my patients, 'What is wrong with you?' they would go on and on, listing all their problems. So I learnt to ask the question, 'What is your main complaint?" The doctor went on to preach on this very question.

The following week this knowledgeable Baptist brother was again in the meeting. During the evening he got up to say that although he did not enjoy or agree with the meetings he had continued to come, but the previous week God had really spoken to him through the doctor who had asked the question, 'What is your main complaint?' When he had gone home he kept thinking about this question and asked himself, 'What was his main complaint about these meetings?' But he could not find any. He had said he did not agree, but when he looked closely, there was nothing in the meeting that conflicted with the word of God. He admitted he had been greatly challenged and resolved to remain more open minded about the way God chose to do things. The Glory Folk practice of having an open platform gave room for the Holy Spirit to move through members of the body, like this doctor, who was instrumental in changing the attitude of a brother, bringing a turning point in his life. This was to be one of many instances when someone had shared a few words from the platform, only to find later that they had spoken right into someone's situation and had brought a blessing, a release or some comfort.

I continued to help Albert with the Fiskerton meetings for nine years. Our vision was still the same as at the first meeting. We wanted love and joy to abound; we wanted to preach freedom and liberty to captives and praise the name of Jesus. Looking back over the years, it is wonderful to be able to say that God kept this vision before us and preserved a wonderful unity between Albert and myself. He did not allow even one cross word in all that time. As the years passed by and more and more people were released into the love, joy and peace of Henri's revival ministry, we continued with Henri's original aim, that people should return to their own churches and take the blessing with them. We continued to say you can't join us, because there is nothing to join. Sadly many were to return to their churches only to be ostracised and rejected. Some were publicly humiliated. One whole family received deliverance and a wonderful anointing in the Holy Spirit. The overflow of love and joy in their lives was evident for all to see. They returned to their own church, one of the mainstream Pentecostal denominations. Obviously they were full of what God had done for them; their daughters loved singing the revival choruses, but the whole family was crushed, when in front of the whole church, the pastor singled them out with a public rebuke. He made it quite clear that if they wanted to attend Henri's revivals, then that was where they should be. He left them in no doubt that they were no longer welcome in his church.

We found that the majority of visitors to Fiskerton were hungry for a reality of God in their lives, and of course many found what they were looking for. They also found something else; they were filled so full of the Holy Spirit that they just could not keep quiet about what God had done for them. Even the quiet and reserved were transformed into bold witnesses. Some who had hidden their faith from their workplace or neighbours were now bold to speak out. I can understand how difficult it would be for many, returning to what some may call dead churches, just to sit in a pew, whilst inside them they were bubbling over with the joy of the Lord and were bursting to tell of the goodness of God. Instead they were listening to dry, lifeless, joyless words, not allowed to do or say anything themselves. Some would return to the Fiskerton meeting grieving for their churches, saddened that even the truth of God's word was being challenged and undermined.

Some visitors to the meeting held very strong religious traditions and had a fixed idea of how God works, but God had a wonderful way of taking the simple things of this world to confound the wise. One such incident involved my daughter, Denise. She got on the platform and told the story of an incident that had taken place many years ago at the seaside. She had been swimming in the sea alongside me when the water started to feel funny. It became more and more difficult to swim and the water felt as though it was getting thicker; It was like trying to swim through sago pudding. She told how I had looked to see what was wrong with the water, and how I had seen that we were swimming through millions of tiny jelly fish. She told how she had heard me shout out, "It's jelly fish". With that she screamed and in a terrified panic raced out of the water and up the beach. Even on the beach she was frantic and hysterical as the jelly fish had got inside her swimming costume. Since that time she has always feared swimming in the sea. She then said, "Like me you might be quite happy to swim in the sterile water of a swimming pool but you are frightened to swim in the sea. But it's the sea that has life supporting waters, not the swimming pool. It is like that with the Holy Spirit's waters that God gives us. These are the real life- supporting waters that we need to enter and swim in and not fear because God is in them."

Yes, there were some who were content to come and have a nice time singing choruses. Yes, it's true they never developed their own walk with God, had no prayer life, no time for Bible study and were disobedient to God's word. Sadly they exercised their will to reject the teaching and encouragement and now, years later, they still have only a shallow and superficial walk with God. I am so glad I can thank God for the many who became faithful witnesses in the factory, office and school, for those who became evangelists in their families and amongst their neighbours and still others who became ambassadors for Jesus in the nursing and retirement homes, in the Hospital and emergency services. We believe God has prepared a job for everyone to do and we encourage them to get on with it. All the Glory Folk know the watchword, 'It's in you, get on with it'.

There were often times when I arrived at the meeting feeling tired and dry. I wondered how to deal with this as a leader. Should I tell everyone how I really felt and perhaps risk bringing a cloud of depression upon the meeting? I was very much aware that some had travelled a long distance with an expectation of enjoying the joy and liberty of the Holy Spirit. Then one day I was listening to a comedian being interviewed. He related to his listeners that one night he was due to go on stage with his comedy act when he received the terrible news that his son had just been killed in a road accident. Nevertheless this comedian, although distraught at the news, went on stage and performed for his audience who had come expecting a good laugh. He gave no hint of the grief and sorrow that he felt inside and he performed in the great tradition of the theatre, 'That the show must go on'.

This really spoke to me, and although the Glory meeting was no show, I felt I had no right to dampen the expectation of visitors. In fact on one occasion that I went to a Fiskerton meeting, I was feeling so dry, empty and miserable that I stood on the doorstep of the chapel and audibly spoke to myself saying, "Now will the old Fred stay outside, because the new Fred is going inside to praise the Lord whether he likes it or not." I went in and really had a freedom to praise the Lord; it was something that I had to do and say because the old Fred did not feel like praising but the new one did! It might sound silly, but I had to deal with this. How could I lead and encourage others if I suffered defeat in this matter and allowed my body to dictate that my spirit had to fall in line with the way my body felt?

In the early years at Fiskerton, we had a minibus; the idea was that we transported regular visitors to and from the meetings. As the majority requiring transport came from the Newark area, it fell to me to drive and maintain the bus. Sometimes it would be one o'clock in the morning before I could park the bus and get home to a very welcome bed. The Lord taught me a lot of patience whilst waiting for folks who were not quite ready to be collected! I would be thinking, "Any more delay and we will be late", I really hated being late for the meeting. God knew the limit of my patience and tested me right up to that point.

I would like to relate just one example; I went to Newark to collect a young lady to take her to the meeting. When she answered the door she said, "I can't come yet, I've got some cakes in the oven." I said, "Well get your mum to take them out when they are ready." She disappeared into the house and on her return said, "Mum said she won't take them out for me, so will you come back for me?" I could feel I was getting irritated by this, but I had not reached boiling point, so I replied, "I'm not coming all the way back from Fiskerton if you won't come now." I left her and set off with my passengers to the meeting, but all the way I was feeling guilty and mean about my behaviour towards this young lady. I resolved in my mind that as soon as I had dropped my passengers off I would return to Newark and collect her.

It was about twenty-five or thirty minutes before I returned for her. I knocked on the door expecting to be greeted by a happy and grateful young lady, but instead she just opened the door a few inches and said, "You need not have bothered. I've decided not to go tonight." By now I was over half an hour late. I did not know whether God was showing me how much I needed His grace or that I should not be running around in the mini bus when I had responsibilities in the meeting. In the event the Lord brought a young man to the meeting who offered to do all the driving.
12 FITTING IN THE FRAME

In almost all of my varying occupations I earned below average pay, so when the last of our four children started school, my wife Faith thought she would try and help our financial position. She took a job as a cleaner at the Grove School, Balderton. This entailed a four mile walk, twice a day. She started her job early morning and returned again in the evening.

I soon saw that with the combination of the heavy work and the walking she was arriving home tired out; she came in red faced and perspiring, not in any fit state to fulfil her roll as homemaker and mother of four young children, with all the work that this entailed. A similar job became vacant at Barnby Road School. This was ideally situated at the top of our street. Faith counted herself very fortunate to get this job and was pleased to keep the same employer. This dramatically improved Faith's lot, making a great saving on her time and energy. There were still times when I could see that the hard manual work was getting on top of her. I think she found the ordeal of having to do so much work in such a short time taxing and fatiguing. She was never one to complain and quietly got on with her job. The signs of the effect that this work was having upon her became apparent, so I wondered how we could improve our situation! I suggested to Faith that should there be any vacancies in the weekly local paper for a position where a man and wife were required, then we would consider it. I felt that I wanted to take a positive step in helping Faith's efforts to assist our financial position but to prevent her being exhausted.

That weekend an advertisement appeared in the situations vacant column, announcing that Barnbygate Methodist Church in Newark town centre required a caretaker. It was suggested that this position would be ideally suited to a married couple, so the man could carry out the heavier tasks. It also stated that a small house came with the job. We prayed about the position, then applied to be considered for this vacancy. Within two weeks we had been interviewed and accepted for the job. We sold our home and moved into the caretaker's house in Bede House Lane that was right next to the church.

This new position worked well for us and was a great help as we now had no mortgage or rent to pay and also had a small income from the caretaker's position. The church was a very fine building; It was of traditional design, with a gallery going all the way around. There was a large high pulpit and the downstairs was filled with box type pews. The building could hold over eight hundred and fifty people and had witnessed many fine preachers in its time. Adjacent to the church was a suite of rooms and a large church hall. At the rear of the hall, an open passageway led to the rear of our new home in Bede House Lane. This was very convenient.

We soon found that with our new home being so close to the town centre shops, we attracted a steady stream of visitors, mostly Christian friends and family. Many were the days when the tea pot never got the chance to cool down. I have known as many as fifteen to twenty people packed in our little front room. We had some tremendous times of fellowship and often we would turn to prayer. Some came seeking help; I was soon to find that there were a lot of hurting, damaged and abused people in our town; yes it was true some had brought problems on their own heads but all had a desire to get sorted out. With some, a combination of common sense, Scripture and prayer brought healing to their situation, but others had deep-seated problems which required much prayer and fasting. The gatherings at our home were so popular that a number of visitors suggested that we start a fellowship meeting, but I never felt this was right as I wanted our visitors to support their own churches.

I was now much closer to the hospital where I worked and I was able to walk there in a few minutes. I was absolutely convinced of the power of prayer and maintained my habit of spending an hour in prayer before going to work. During my prayer times the Lord seemed to be prompting me to pray for the Assemblies of God church in Sherwood Avenue, Newark. I knew nothing about this church except that it had a membership of about twenty to thirty. As the Lord kept prompting me about this church, so I kept praying for it. The Lord impressed upon me that He was going to bring revival through this church and its pastor. One morning at five o'clock the Lord told me to go and pray for this church building. I put my jacket on and was there within two or three minutes. I spread-eagled myself across as much of the front of the church as I could reach. I was glad that there were not many people around because my behaviour stood a good chance of someone calling for the police and having me taken away. I prayed for God's anointing on the church and its pastor. This may appear to be peculiar behaviour, even fanatical, but I have learnt the importance and value of obeying God, so I was not about to defy Him just because I was going to look silly in front of a few passers by.

Throughout this time I continued to support the Saturday Glory meetings at Fiskerton but I was also aware that God was bringing the A.O.G. church to my attention. At first I thought God was wanting me to pray His plans for the church into reality, never dreaming for a moment that I might be a part of that plan. Somehow God has a way of making me hear even if I had been a little deaf to His guidance. Even when one Sunday morning I decided to join the morning worship at the A. O. G. church, I still did not realise God was opening up a whole new chapter of my life, which was to be with this church. As the service progressed a great peace swept over me and a sense that God wanted me there for His purposes. I was surprised by this because the meeting was very different from the freedom and liberty of the Fiskerton Glory meetings, yet I had this assurance and conviction that I must return to this church and not allow the very ordered, traditional service to be a barrier to me.

Over the next few weeks Faith and I continued to attend this little fellowship. We were made most welcome and introduced to the pastor. A short time later we were welcomed into membership by the twenty five or so other members. This was to be our home for the next ten years. Within weeks we noticed a change in the pastor. He became more evangelical and developed a clear direct style of preaching the Gospel. Strangers started to come into the church and commit their lives to Jesus as they responded to the pastor's appeal. Slowly and steadily the numbers grew. I became involved in visiting and nurturing new Christians. Some had no church background at all, so I taught them how to pray and discover God's truth in the Bible.

I continued to pray for revival, but as more new converts came into the church, I saw the need for mature Christians to come and share the work, for married couples, families and professional people who loved the Lord. I should not have been surprised, but I was both surprised and amazed as week by week I saw God answer prayer. There came a steady stream of teachers, bank officials, business people, a company director, probation officer, accountants and at one time six police officers. This had quite an effect on the local police station that now had its own 'God Squad', as it was called!

I continued what I believed was my job in the church, that was to pray, visit and encourage. All my spare time was being taken up visiting, six days a week. If I was working an early shift then I would visit in the afternoon, or if I was on an afternoon shift then I would visit in the mornings. I so much wanted to encourage and pray with people, to build them up in the church and help them with their fears and doubts.

One of the most fruitful areas of the church was the house groups. It was not very long after our arrival that Faith and I joined a house group. In these smaller groups there developed a deeper unity and trust and commitment to one another. There was a greater openness and willingness to share and a freedom to testify to what God was doing in our lives. Often we would end up praying and encouraging one another. The house groups grew in numbers and outgrew the size of the homes they were meeting in. This necessitated splitting them up, using more homes and of course more leaders. Faith and I became leaders of one such group in our Bede House Lane home. The group quickly outgrew our small front room and we were given permission to use one of the rooms in the Methodist Church next door. Even this room reached capacity and we had to divide again. Although I missed the folk and felt sad at the loss of those who moved on into a new group, I knew I had to let it happen and not limit what God was doing amongst us. It was good to see some blossoming as new leaders, but for others it was not so easy. They had become too comfortable, and if they were to move into God's plan for their life, then some had to be encouraged from their comfortable positions and given a challenge.

After our first few weeks at the Assemblies of God church, we noticed that after the evening service the young people would hang around outside. When Faith and I asked them what were they doing, their reply was that there was nothing to do. We decided to invite them home for a cup of coffee. We had some good talks together and told them some of the things that God had done in our lives. All kinds of subjects would be raised and the young people became more open with us and with each other. Little differences or disagreements were sorted out as love and forgiveness flowed between them. They became keen to tell us what God was doing in their lives and in their school life. One of the young people, Andrew Davis, a gifted musician, got a small keyboard as a Christmas gift and he would bring it along and lead us in worship. He was a real blessing and taught us many choruses. Sometimes we would teach them one of the old choruses that we sang long before any of the young people were born.

During my time with The Glory Folk I had enjoyed great freedom and liberty in the spirit. I had been able to stand up and speak, laugh, cry, shout and sing, dance, clap my hands or play an instrument. Suddenly God had put me in a fellowship where there were nice, respectable, born again, spirit filled Christians but they did not have that fervency in praise and worship, prayer and testimony that I had known. God had already warned me that He did not want them to become little Freddies. Praise God, He wanted something much better for them. He wanted them to grow to all the fulness of the stature of Christ, not Fred. If God wanted to do something in a quieter way rather than a bubbling-over exuberant way, then it was not up to me to impose something different. I knew that God could speak with that still small voice but I think I rather enjoyed it when He spoke in the raging storm, in the peals of thunder and in the fire, but I am very happy to experience the most tremendous thrill when I hear His whisper in the quiet and stillness. What an awesome thought, The Lord Almighty our Heavenly Father talks to His children. He is a God of tremendous variety; as on the day of Pentecost, He spoke in a language that the many nationalities there understood, and because He wants you and me to understand, He will speak to each one of us in the language that we understand, regardless of intelligence levels or cultural differences.

When I had been in the Glory meetings the Lord would sometimes put a word on my heart. I would just stand up at an appropriate moment and perhaps for thirty or forty minutes share the word God had shown me. Now that I was in this new church, I found that I had no such freedom to speak but the Lord was still impressing various words on my heart to share with the church. How was I to deal with this? At home I had just been making a frame to fit over a very draughty window. As I pondered my dilemma in sharing God's word, I saw in my mind the frame I had just completed, together with its dimensions and limits. The Lord then spoke to me saying, "There is a framework in this fellowship and you must learn to work within that and not go outside its limits. Do not try to change the dimensions of the frame, only I can do that". Now I could have arrogantly thought, I am filled with the Holy Spirit, God has given me a word, so I will speak out regardless of what men may say. I knew this was not God's way. He showed me a better way that was acceptable to the leaders and would not cause offence. So now, as the Lord shared His heart for the fellowship and gave me some word of teaching or encouragement for them, I would first ask the pastor's permission before the service. I never took advantage of this and would condense what I had to say into four or five minutes. In fact The Holy Spirit showed me how to say in just a few words what I would have undoubtedly enlarged upon.

Not only did I resolve to let my words be tender so as not aggravate or upset, but I wanted to encourage others to speak tenderly. One such opportunity arose when I was invited to speak to a fellowship in the South of England. These folk were fervent in praise and worship; they loved to dance and were really free in the spirit. I felt very much at one with them. I took to them like a duck to water and enjoyed the liberty with them.

The word that the Lord gave me for them was 'Do not forget where you came from'. Although they were lovely people I knew that in their hearts they were critical and condemning of Christians who worshipped in quiet or religiously traditional ways. I once held a similar critical attitude and would make jokes about it, but now God had dealt with me and opened my eyes to see the quiet, religious and traditional worshippers in a completely different light, indeed I believe in God's light.

I shared that there was a day when each person there had seen things in a different light. They had viewed the things of God through unbelievers' eyes. They had written off many forms of Christian behaviour as not for them. It was only by the grace of God that they now followed and worshipped Jesus from a totally different point of view. It was this same grace that brought them to know and express the joy of their salvation. This did not give us the right to criticise anyone still living in the shadows, anyone who had not yet fully stepped into the sunshine of God's love. I explained that God loves those in the shadows with exactly the same measure that He loves each one of us. Let God do the judging, but let us love everyone as they are. I urged them not just to grow in the knowledge of God's word but to grow in their hearts. This is how we can show through us, God's love, compassion and understanding to all those in the various stages of their walk with God.

As I spoke I had to acknowledge that I had come from a small mission who believed that they were the only right way. They believed that they would be the only ones taken to be with Jesus in the end times. We had lived entirely by faith, our lifestyle was without newspapers, comics or radio; we never went to a cinema, theatre, dance hall or public house. We had no luxuries, our leaders also lived by faith as we were taught that a hired shepherd would run as soon as trouble came. Because we put our trust totally in God we sincerely believed that we were His chosen ones. I accepted this teaching into my life and became bigoted. My view was that only our fellowship was right. I looked down on all other churches. We saw them as worldly where the word of God was compromised, where error was preached as the truth and where an atmosphere of anything goes persisted. We were taught not to have fellowship with them and keep ourselves separate from them.

I continued to share that God had opened my eyes to the error of my understanding and attitude with my brothers and sisters in Christ. Some of my hearers were amazed that I could have ever have taken such a misguided position. I then gently brought them round to the idea that they too, could suddenly find that they did not have the monopoly of understanding for God's pattern for the church. I showed them that just as I had been so wrong and dogmatic in my belief, so our God of variety has more than noisy liberty in praise and worship. He has a great wealth of wonders and experiences that we have not even started to move into. I knew that the penny had dropped; God's message had got home, a silence fell over the meeting. Words were no longer required as the Holy Spirit moved amongst His people, dealing with bigotry, pride, self-centred attitudes, criticism and blinkered vision.

One of the things we noticed was that the church had a healthy prayer life, part of this was when the whole church met on a Friday evening specifically to pray. I remember one Sunday the pastor asked if the whole church would come half an hour earlier on Fridays to devote more time in prayer. From that very first extended prayer meeting I noticed a dramatic change, both in the pastor's ministry and in the increase in the number of people who were being saved during the Sunday meetings. As the numbers in the church grew, so the numbers at the prayer meeting grew until it filled the church hall. We also saw an increase in the audible spiritual gifts, tongues, interpretation, prophecy and words of knowledge. The people used as a channel of these gifts increased from a few to a great many, right across the hall.

One example of God intervening through His gifts occurred one Friday. A lady and her husband had been terribly hurt during an incident in another church. This resulted in them both leaving and not going anywhere for fellowship for several years. The lady in question walked into the prayer meeting that night just as the very moment the Lord spoke through a gift of knowledge, right into her situation. She immediately went home telling her husband of all that had happened. Both were healed of the hurts from the past and have been able to forgive. The very next Sunday they were both in church and have worshipped with us ever since. Occasionally we would have all night prayer meetings. We noticed that it was during the prayer times, that we enjoyed a greater flow of spiritual gifts, more than in any other meeting or service.

On one occasion I had a visit from the pastor. He said, "We have been watching your work in the church and would like to recognise you as an elder. After some prayer I accepted this position. On the following Sunday I was officially appointed and prayed for. To be honest, this appointment made no difference to me. I continued to pray, visit and encourage. About that time two additional pastors were appointed to the rapidly growing church. These two men were gifted in very different ways; both were musical, but one was very much a teacher, whilst the other was a pastor/shepherd who had particular skill in communicating with children, using his art and music to do this. As an elder it was my privilege to pray with these men. The only other effect Eldership had on me was my attendance at regional meetings of the Assemblies of God church. This enabled me to see what God was doing elsewhere, so I was better informed when praying for the church.

Within a very short time of the new pastors arriving, there was a tremendous move of God amongst the Gypsy and travelling communities. Although this revival was right across Europe, it was to have a profound effect upon our church and one of these new pastors was mightily used amongst them. There were soon sixty or seventy travellers attending the church. Obviously as their lifestyle dictated, we would see them for a few weeks, then they would move on to be quickly replaced by new Christian travelling families. We found that their fervent witness was a breath of fresh air in the church.

I found my time at this church was a great time of learning. Learning about prayer, learning about the word of God, learning about visiting and understanding different cultures. You see I had wanted to be not only an earthly father, where I had been blessed with four lovely children, but a spiritual father, a dad, and I found the Lord was giving me many spiritual children to look after.

During my time of prayer the Lord warned me that three people were going to come into the church, bringing with them damage, trouble and pain. I told the pastor to warn him so he could be on his guard and prepared when this happened. It may be that he could not see this happening or could not identify who these young men might be, so the warning appeared to go unheard. Some weeks later, three new visitors appeared in church, young men in their twenties. The alarm bells rang within me that made me more alert to the unfolding drama. Then it began; one started taking an unhealthy interest in a young girl in the church. She was not what you would call a beauty, and when there were a number of other good looking single girls, I was rather surprised by his choice. He became obsessed with this girl. It became one of those problems that the whole church became aware of, but nothing seemed to be done about. Eventually it was discovered that this young man was married, and so he was told to sort his relationship out with his wife or leave the church. I did not hear the sigh of relief, but it was definitely there as he walked out for the last time. The second young man also had an eye for the young ladies. We taught in the church that it was unwise for a non-Christian to marry a Christian; we called it 'Being unequally yoked.' The young man knew this, so during a Gospel meeting he responded to an appeal, indicating that he wanted to give his life to Jesus. I spoke with him straight after the meeting about his new commitment, but all the time he was turning around looking in the direction of the girls. I knew he was not sincere and was just going through the motions, hoping to make himself acceptable. He started courting one of the young girls and very quickly married her. This marriage was an absolute disaster which brought anguish and distress not only to the family but to the whole church. The third young man was a disruptive element. He was an exhibitionist who particularly liked to show off to the young people. If anyone testified about their past life, before they knew Jesus, he would stand up and say that he had been much worse. He had been drunk every night, or for days on end he had been high on heroin. He was always exaggerating to impress or show off, but it was his behaviour in the young people's meetings that was to have the most damaging effect on the church. His showing off, his arrogance and defiance, his lack of respect for any authority soon corrupted the whole group. All that was worst in this young man seemed to rub off on the other young people. They changed from a happy and obedient group of young Christians into a difficult, rebellious group who became impossible to handle. Some became foul mouthed and would go drinking in the pubs. Although the leaders struggled valiantly, the results of this disruptive influence destroyed the youth work.

13 TRAVELLERS – THE INSIDE STORY

I have briefly mentioned the influx of travellers and gypsies into the church, but I would like to tell you more of this great time of blessing. I had to learn very quickly that they were not only very different people but saw things in a completely distinct perspective. Their private life, their family life, their business and church life were so different from anything I had experienced. I was to find that a knowledge of their culture saved me not only from conflict and misunderstanding, but was to help in making me acceptable to the travelling community. A small example was that the church had taught that it was wiser for a man to pray with and counsel another man, and a woman a woman, but to the travellers' mind women were busy bodies and could not be trusted with a confidence, so only a man could be used to help them. Their understanding was that it was only the man that had authority. We had to change our attitude towards this and ensure there was a man available to pray with them.

The established Christians within the church had perhaps settled down to a certain tradition, a particular style of worship, prayer and praise, a certain standard of behaviour inside and outside church, but these new travelling Christians had an entirely different way of expressing their praise and worship and their prayer life was fresh and conversational in style. There were no religious trappings here. It was all new and relevant. It was obvious that God had put a love in the church that helped us accept one another more readily. It was interesting to see how, just a few months before, certain behaviour would have been met with the turning of heads and a number of disapproving looks, but now this same behaviour seemed to go unnoticed.

As an example I recall one of the travellers wanting to go to the toilet during the meeting. We would have probably waited for an appropriate moment, then made our way to the aisle, then quietly made our way out, but this man turned around during the sermon and saw a few empty chairs which led to the back of the church. Without further ado he climbed onto his seat and over the succeeding chairs between the congregation until he reached his destination. No-one made a fuss about this, we just continued listening to the sermon as if this were a regular occurrence. Some behaviour could be distracting, perhaps two of the travellers would strike up a conversation during a quiet time or their children would be disruptive, running down the aisles and across the front of the church. The parents of these children made it clear that they did not like anyone else correcting their children and so sometimes a large measure of grace was needed to tolerate this behaviour and keep our mouths closed. Patience in this matter was rewarded, as over the months, with encouragement and support, the disruptive elements settled down. It was noticeable that the children became more obedient as the parents received teaching on God's plan for the family and they exercised their authority and faced up to their responsibilities as parents.

To many of the travellers, Newark has long been a favourite stopping place. Situated in the East Midlands at the cross roads of the London to Edinburgh A1 trunk road and the A46 Grimsby to Bath road, it was seen as a gateway to the North, a place to meet family and friends, and for many a place to see the winter out, some stopping as long as three or four months during the bad weather. It has been a Gypsy meeting place for hundreds of years and the name Tolney Lane, Newark, is known throughout the travelling community. Many of the surrounding villages carry the street names Gypsy Lane or Tinkers Lane, showing their historic link with this area. As a boy I looked forward to news of Gypsies moving on to some local lane. I would go and find their camp and I loved to talk to the men. The women would be out selling pegs and lace whilst the men made the pegs or busied themselves around the camp. I would follow the men round, listening to their stories.

The travellers had a saying, 'If you don't know what a Gorger is, you are one'. The name 'Gorger' is an old Romany word used to describe house-dwellers and to distinguish them from travellers and gypsies. Within the travelling community there are three distinct groups; Gypsies, Travellers and Tinkers. Other than Christian witnessing there is no contact between these parties. The gypsy are a very proud race, proud of their language, their culture and history. The travellers, as their name suggests, travel around to earn a living. Over the generations they had developed their own distinctive traditions.

The caravans they live in are referred to as trailers. They are usually very well kept, polished and cleaned inside and out. The tinkers were of Irish stock and maintained a strong Catholic religious tradition; they believed the non conformist church to be of the devil so consequently none of them would set foot in a Pentecostal church. The Gypsies and Travellers had a tremendous memory for their family trees. They could name not only ancestors but all their second and third cousins and where you could probably find them. One Gypsy pastor told me that some of the third cousins could be suddenly promoted to first cousins if they were found to have a lot of money.

As the numbers of travellers coming to the church grew, one of their number approached the head pastor and said that what they really needed was a pastor of their own, someone who could teach them and spend time helping them. This request was met by an immediate positive response and the newly appointed assistant pastor, Steve Williams, was given the task. He was to prove ideally suited and he was quickly accepted by the travelling community. His amazing memory for names and faces, together with his love and concern, endeared this young pastor to the whole travelling community. On meeting some returning travellers who had been working away, he had the ability to greet each one by name and even remember some medical concern of a third cousin in North Wales or an Aunt in London whom they had prayed for. This humble, unassuming and quietly spoken pastor was unwittingly to develop what can only be described as a fan club, as hundreds who had been blessed by his tireless ministry came to love and respect him.

I had the privilege of working alongside Pastor Steve for many years in this ministry. It was very demanding work; they were so hungry for the word of God, so thirsty that they would not let you go home. Even at one or two o'clock in the morning we would still be there, heavy-eyed and ready for our beds, but the flood of questions would continue. We were to learn much of the customs and traditions of the travellers. Their moral behaviour was different; a gypsy man would not visit a gypsy woman in another trailer unless her man was present. Understanding their culture was to prove very important, as it was not our intention to conform the travellers to our culture or behaviour, but to share the love of Jesus with them.

We were always made very welcome. On arriving at a trailer you would be invited in and given a hug by everyone there. After you had been given a comfortable seat you would be served a very large cup of tea in the best china, Royal Doulton or Royal Albert. As soon as you had drained the last mouthful from the cup, then another steaming hot cupful of tea would be poured. The cups were often the size of a small basin, so the drawback was that it was not long before you needed to visit the toilet. Unfortunately the toilets on some of the sites left a lot to be desired, so I learned to moderate my tea intake. At various times of the day you would be plied with a ham sandwich or cake. I don't know how Pastor Steve coped. He would spend all day on the caravan sites, then he would attend an evening meeting at the church. Immediately after the meeting he would be invited by other travellers to visit their trailer, so he would spend a substantial amount of time with them compared with me. I was still trying to continue my visits of other church members during this time.

I quickly found that it was impossible to visit a family in a trailer for an hour. It would lead to four or five hours; the trailer would fill up with twos and threes arriving until there was no room left. Even after spending all this time, when you had attempted unsuccessfully to leave, they would exclaim; "Oh hang on, Johney wants to talk with you before you go." Johney would be sent for; his arrival would be accompanied by a squeezing round of seats and standing spaces as somehow another two or three were packed in. Questions would be asked and more scriptures read and explanations given.

Some of the teaching was to cause the men in particular, great difficulty. For years they had run around without vehicle tax, without television licences and in fact had avoided paying any taxes or charges. To suddenly become subject to the authorities set over them was quite alien, but with prayer and encouragement they came to terms with their new responsibilities, often with testimonies of the Lord providing them with extra work to pay the authorities. Their business methods also underwent a dramatic change. You see in their old ways they had been selling carpets door to door, claiming them to be twelve feet by fifteen feet in size. The carpet would be sold in its rolled up state but when the buyer unrolled it, he found that it was nothing like the size he had been told. The tarmac layers had been getting away with only laying a thin layer but charging full price, the fence sprayers had used diluted preservative but now the Lord was convicting them about their business practices and they could now be relied on to do a quality job with quality materials. Sadly for some, it was too high a price to pay and they slipped back into their old ways. Some suffered such a conviction that they left the area believing that they could resume their old ways in peace, but before they left we warned them that wherever they went, the God who loved them and wanted the best for them would already be on the site before they pulled up and He would still convict them until they repented and turned back to Him.

At the church, the influx of the travellers was something of a culture shock. We resist change and are slow to accept some things just because they are different, but the Lord moved on the whole church to change us all; He made it so easy to accept one another as we were. He gave us time and space not just to tolerate people with differences but unreservedly to accept them as brothers and sisters in Christ. This was not just a verbal acceptance, but a very real love for one another as we greeted one another with a hug and were ready to pray for each other. As I looked back and remembered how in my first days as a Christian I had been accepted with all my faults and over the months had been given time and encouraged to grow, so now it was up to me and the whole church to show that same acceptance and patience that had been extended to me.

Some of the questions that the Gorgers asked were not appreciated, but were dealt with gracefully by the travellers; for example, how did they manage without a bath? This was in intrusion on a very private area of the traveller's life and it was not open for discussion. I think the very question to the mind of the traveller inferred that the Gorger did things correctly and the traveller did not. No wonder he took exception to this kind of questioning! Nevertheless the answer to this particular question was answered as I visited one of the trailers. The lady of the trailer got a bowl out from a cupboard but as she did so I noticed a number of other bowls, all with beautiful designs on. I was to learn that she had a separate bowl for everything, washing hands, washing feet, washing pots and pans, preparing fruit and vegetables, in fact she was a lot more particular about hygiene than most Gorgers. If for example the dog licked a dinner plate then a traveller would break it and dispose of it rather than wash it and allow it to be used by humans.

I found that in many of the travelling families only one child had been sent to school. This was so they could read road signs, notices and help fill forms in for the rest of the family. As more travellers became Christians, their inability to read the Bible became a real problem to them. It was partly addressed by the use of The Bible on cassette tapes; many would play nothing else in their vans. In addition to the tapes the pastor's wife started reading classes that were a great help. I felt that their illiteracy hindered their worship, but this was not for long. They seemed to learn hymns and songs very quickly, even without the words they somehow praised and worshipped and entered into what was happening.

The enthusiasm of the travellers was a breath of fresh air to the church. They had such a hunger for the word of God, they were so keen to pray and no one could stop them sharing their new-found faith. Very often the man and wife would come to faith together. As soon as a couple (or an individual) committed their lives to Jesus, they could not wait to get back to the caravan site to tell their family and friends about Jesus. If one member of a family was saved then you could guarantee that within a week or two most, if not all of that family would turn to Jesus; so you can see how quickly this move of God mushroomed amongst the travellers. One man called Ronnie immediately went around the men on his site and having convinced them to follow Jesus, marched them straight down to the River Trent and baptised them all as they confessed their faith in Jesus. He was like a John The Baptist; it was an amazing spectacle as he led them into the water just downstream of the weir and one by one this big gypsy man called one man after another to publicly confess Jesus as Lord of their lives. Ronnie then plunged them, still fully clothed, under the waters of the Trent. He saw no need to wait-he was a 'believe and be baptised' man! He knew with the travellers that you have to do things today because tomorrow some of them could be a hundred miles away.

I was sometimes amused by the way some of the travellers spread the Gospel. An older man called Ishmael had heard what was happening amongst his fellow travellers but had decided that he could manage without this new life in Jesus, people on the camp were talking about. His son Anthony was not prepared to accept his fathers decision as final, so one day asked him four questions, the conversation went like this, "Dad, have I changed"? His father replied, "Yes". Anthony then asked, "Dad, do I look happier?" Dad again replied, "Yes". Anthony continued, "Dad, do you think it cost me anything?" Dad replied, "No". His son then asked, "Then why won't you accept it?" to which his father replied, "I don't know" and that is where the conversation ended. You see Anthony knew that his father could not resist a bargain, so he left him to think it out for himself and the very next morning Ishmel gave his life to the Lord. As the traveller numbers increased in church, they asked if they could have their own meeting. This would be in addition to any other meetings in church that they faithfully attended. A regular mid-week meeting was agreed, which was primarily for travellers and Gypsies but Gorgers were made very welcome. I found these meetings most refreshing, there were no airs and graces, they were very real people and shared their excitement about what God had done in their lives that week. The travellers took responsibility for the whole meeting and I found it to be a great time of blessing.

There is an organisation amongst the Gypsy and Traveller pastors and Elders who care for the Christians in their community. These Godly men maintain a high moral standard, in fact if the same high standards were applied to the established churches there would be many empty pulpits. I was to find some of their understanding of scripture differed from that of the Newark Assembly of God Church. For example, there was the matter of ladies wearing head covering or speaking in church. I prayed for wisdom in this matter because we did not want to bring confusion or conflict amongst the travellers, so we advised them that when they were under the authority of a gypsy pastor, then they must obey what he said, but when visiting the Newark church then they were free to do what their conscience told them. Consequently some testified and prayed in church, others did not. Some wore head covering, other chose not to.

In the travellers' tradition the man had the authority, whereas the woman was the cook, looked after the man's needs and had his children. This culture spilled over into their church life. However the Newark church believed that man and women were equal in the sight of God, that there was neither male nor female in Christ Jesus and that the females were part of the body of Christ with an important part to play in His purposes. This did cause some problems for some of the women. They saw that women were being used in the Newark Church and that they could be used on some of the camps; but where a Gypsy elder or pastor was on the camp, then they had to accept his authority and keep quiet. It was not an easy time for them but God gave them grace to accept the situation and wisdom in using their ministry.

From time to time the Christian leaders and Elders of the travelling community announce a national meeting. There is no need for expensive publicity amongst them as they have a very efficient communication system, so that within a few days thousands from all over the country can be mobilised. During one summer the leaders called one such meeting to gather at a farm in Marston a small village situated between Newark and Grantham. The only drawback of their communication system was that many non-Christians also heard of the gathering. This was both good and bad news. Good, because non-Christians would hear the good news of Jesus, but bad because some would come for the wrong reason. You see when they hear that travellers are meeting together, to them it means that there must be some money to be made. There's something afoot. There's something going on that they have not been told about; perhaps some trading, a bare fist fight, racing or perhaps a cock or dog fight. So it was that many non-Christian travellers came to Marston to be in on the action, not wanting to miss out on an opportunity to make money.

On arrival at Marston they quickly found that something very different was happening. There were strict controls on the site with stewards to enforce the rules. Marquees had been set up and meetings were taking place for the adults and for the children. Some of the non-Christian travellers would not enter the tent, but would stand just outside listening to everything. The travellers have some tremendously anointed and powerful speakers and their hearers could not help being affected by the preaching. Some listening outside the tent would slowly venture inside and then commit their lives to Jesus whilst others did not want to change their lifestyle and walked off.

When I arrived at the site, I was surprised by the scale of the meeting and organisation, hundreds of trailers were parked up. Thousands of people attended the meetings but one thing that puzzled me was a builders skip near one of the tents. I was soon to discover its purpose as it was scrubbed clean then half filled with water and flower heads were thrown into the water. It had been converted into a baptistry where a great number who had confessed Jesus Christ as Lord of their life were baptised in this pool of very cold water. The meetings were tremendous and I was thrilled to witness God's mighty move and stirring amongst the travellers. Although many good things were happening, there were reports from the residents of the Marston area of some disturbance, stealing and litter, so in spite of the best intentions and efforts of the leadership and stewards, the behaviour of a few non-Christian visitors sadly influenced the local community to stop any future gatherings in their area.

Many of the travellers lived hand to mouth, that is they had to work and earn money so their family would have food to eat that week. With this fact in mind, I was to learn more of their new Christian priorities and see a demonstration of their love in their response to a disaster in Wales. News reached the church that during a high tide a stormy sea had breached the defences in a place called Towyn. Many caravans had been destroyed; a large part of the town was flooded, many bungalows to a depth of half a metre; consequently the major contents of these dwellings were ruined and were now in a sodden rotting heap on their front lawns. Everything was covered in a grey slime, a mixture of sea water and sewage that was slowly drying out leaving a smelly grey blanket across a great area of roads, gardens, homes and personal belongings.

The local Assemblies of God Church pastor made an appeal to our church for help. (He had been involved in rescuing people from the flood and as the result of spending hours, chest high in contaminated sea water, was suffering a nasty skin complaint.) The travellers attending the Newark church immediately stopped their work, then using their transit vans went around collecting carpets, furniture, clothing and toys from other church members. The following day they drove in convoy to Towyn, not only to bring aid to the town but to offer their manpower to help with the clean-up operation. Not long after their arrival and now clothed in waterproofs and wellingtons, they began the unpleasant task of cleaning out bungalows, using high-pressure hoses, disinfectant and brooms. They worked long hours and slept nearby ready to continue the task the next day. Some had to return to Newark before others, but all had willingly made a sacrifice which had been shared by all their families as they had forgone the opportunities of work and pay to help those in need. This was not just a one off gesture, but in the years that followed many convoys of aid would be taken by the Gypsy and travelling communities to Eastern Europe, and Romania in particular.
14 DISTURBANCE IN THE NEST

One of the greatest shocks in my life came when the hospital staff doctor told me the result of an examination of a spinal injury that I had received at work. He said I was never, ever, to do any more lifting or activities like climbing stairs, walking any distance or standing for any length of time and that doing these things would seriously aggravate my condition. My employers were very good to me and tried to help me in every way that they could, but I was inevitably faced with the reality of having to take early retirement on the grounds of ill health.

My immediate response was that this injury had deprived me not only of my hospital job I had been involved in engineering, and in particular motor mechanics, but privately there was nothing I liked better than to get under a car and sort out its problems. But now both manoeuvring under cars and lifting were impossible for me. Once changing an engine, gear box or back axle were routinely taken in my stride, but now my body would no longer respond to the desires in my brain.

This was a disappointment as I had used my skill as a motor mechanic to serve God. Over the years many folk who were involved in a variety of ministries had come to me to repair their transport. Some of these were struggling financially and could not afford the professional services of a garage but needed their transport to fulfil their ministry. With some the repair had been part of an arrangement; where for example I needed some brickwork repairing or a window replacing in my home, then I would make payment by doing some repair or overhaul of the tradesman's vehicle in payment. Now I had to face the fact that these and many of the other heavy jobs I had tackled were now a thing of the past. It proved to be a time when not just one, but many chapters of my life came to a close; indeed as the weeks passed after my retirement other unexpected chapters of my life would also come to a close.

My disability was to have a far greater impact on changing the course of my life than I had ever imagined or anticipated but Faith and I had placed ourselves in the Lord's hands and we trusted Him for all that was to come. Faith's job as caretaker of Barnbygate Methodist Church was quite a big job that had needed my help to move platforms, tables and chairs. As Faith could not possibly carry out these tasks without my help, we had to face the reality that Faith also would have to retire. The immediate implication of this was that we would lose our Bede House Lane caretakers' home. Our names had been on the council housing list for many years and we had faithfully re-registered every year, so armed with a letter from my doctor outlining my physical limitations and a letter from the church indicating our impending housing need, we approached the council. We had prayed that the Lord would direct the council to place us where He wanted us and we agreed to go wherever He sent us. This alarmed our family who were aware of a number of rough areas in Newark that would have been a nightmare to live in. They were genuinely concerned for our safety. I think my greatest dread was not where we would live, but the thought of all the upheaval and having to redecorate a house in my now physically painful condition.

The lady from the Housing department visited us, bringing with her some keys for a vacant flat. We were delighted with the council's response and were happy to go and view this flat, situated in the middle of the Hawtonville Estate in Newark. We examined this one bedroom flat and were pleasantly surprised to find it was freshly decorated throughout. We returned to the council office and told them we would be happy to take the flat. I then congratulated them on having their workmen do such a fine redecoration job. The lady in the office assured us that this had been carried out at the expense of the previous occupant and not by the council. I later found out that the flat had been in a disgusting state and a lady had been offered the flat. She insisted that she engaged professional decorators to redecorate the entire flat before she moved in. Unfortunately she died within a week of the job being completed. We thanked God as we were able to move into this clean, newly decorated property, but were saddened by the circumstances.

Faith and I settled into our new home and a whole new lifestyle as we were now both retired. Many changes and adjustments had to be made but we were totally unprepared for the next event which would turn our lives upside-down. For over ten years we had been happily attending all the meetings at our church, but suddenly and independently from one another, Faith and I started to lose our desire to attend some of the meetings; this grew in both of us until we shared how we felt with one another. We prayed, we searched our hearts to see if there was anything wrong with us, some influence, some attitude that was not of God and was affecting our desire to attend church. We searched and searched. We talked and prayed. My love for Jesus was as strong as ever, my desire to read His word and talk with Him was unaffected, yet I got no sleep, no rest as every possible reason for our unrest crossed my mind. My cry to the Lord was, "What are you doing? What is happening? Why has my desire gone?"

We had always been used in building up churches, bringing encouragement and helping new Christians to grow and in spurring mature Christians on into reaching for greater heights and depths in the things of God. I had never ever contemplated worshipping anywhere else. I had no desire to move. An illustration I had used to teach others came to mind. I would tell about the eagle feeding her young in a nest, high in the safety of a cliff top ledge. One day after the mother had done everything for her young, she would start to dismantle the nest from under them; this continued until there was no comfortable place left. With the safety of the nest now gone, one of the young would inevitably fall off the ledge and plummet down towards the foot of the cliff. The mother in allowing this, was encouraging her young to fly. If they did not fly first time she was always ready to swoop down and rescue her chick before it came to any harm then return it to the cliff top ledge for another try. This lesson of being made to feel uncomfortable was now my lot and I didn't like it and I didn't want it.

A stark, stunned realisation hit us that our time and ministry within this church was over. We believed God still had a purpose for our lives, but try as we might, we could not see what He had in store for us. I knew the time had come to resign my elder-ship office and membership. There were a lot of reasons why I should not do this. First and foremost was that real fear that I would be going outside the will of God. Secondly, we had a lot of friends within the church and I did not want to leave them. Thirdly, I had always warned and advised others not to leave a fellowship without knowing where you are going or what you are going to do. As I spoke to God about this last issue, I said, "Lord, I'm not going to leave this fellowship without knowing where I am going, I must know". His response to this demand were the words, "Abram didn't". This settled it for me. I must put my trust in Him. I so wanted Faith to have her own peace and assurance from the Lord on this important issue that one day as I kissed her good-bye on my way to do some visiting, I asked her to pray that the Lord would give her clear direction. I knew she often prayed for me as I went out visiting and I could trust her to commit this matter to the Lord. As I returned, Faith was waiting for me. She told me that the Lord had given her a quick reply and a peace in her heart. She told me that the Lord had answered her prayer with a question. "Has Fred ever led you in a wrong path"? She had said, "No". Faith said that she knew what God was saying and that I must trust his judgement.

It was very hard to write the letter of resignation, because I loved the pastor and did not want to hurt him. I loved the people and knew this news would cause distress. I had learnt so much from this church, so much about God's word, prayer, love and fellowship. I had learnt so much from the pastor and his assistant pastors, Steve and Glen. I prayed that God would give them understanding that this was a new call on my life and I had to go. There is a saying that, 'The man who does not make mistakes, does not make anything'. I was not saying in my letter that I knew that I was definitely right; I was not dogmatic. I was simply trusting what I believed was God's directing hand on my life, leading me into an unknown place for an unknown purpose. I felt like a little child holding tightly onto father's hand as he led me along unknown paths through unknown places.

I knew it was not going to be easy for the church to accept the idea of my resignation. It was received with a very mixed reaction. Some said they would pray for us. Some told us we were wrong and misguided. Some were not sure what to think. Still others said if we were leaving so were they! We responded saying that we valued prayer but did not want anyone leaving because of us. Each individual must know the call and direction of God on their lives. Sadly a number strongly resented our decision and showed it. This element was to cause great hurt as they turned their backs on us, totally ostracised and refused to speak to us. We knew that we must stand firm on the path God was leading us on; we prayed for those who were critical and hurtful and forgave them. The hurts were all the more painful because it was directed from those whom we had looked up to and respected.

We were able to thank God for the many letters, cards and messages of support and encouragement that we received, sometimes from the most unexpected people. These were greatly valued in the weeks and months that followed. Even months later letters continued arriving as news of our resignation spread. It is true that some were perplexed by our actions but the underlying theme was that of prayer and love. This unconditional love really spoke to us even when they could not understand what was happening. This was in marked contrast to others who had hugged and prayed with us one week and within seven days were treating us like some unclean outcast leper, not to be associated with. It made me wonder, were we part of the same body of Christ! I recalled the day that I had told someone in that fellowship that I intended to live the rest of my days there and that they would bury me from that church. Now suddenly and unexpectedly I was reminded that my ways are not God's ways. It is His plans that are perfect for my life, not mine!

We did not like being in this limbo position, not in fellowship with any church. It was a most unusual feeling, not being involved in ministry, or attending all the various meetings that had become part of our life. Although I could not see God's plan in all this, I believed He had a purpose and was teaching me something new. We decided that we would visit other churches to have some fellowship. After worshipping at one of the main stream churches and being introduced to the minister-we explained our position, that we believed the Lord had led us out of one church. We had not left for any wrong reason and had parted on good terms with the leadership but now we just wanted to worship with God's people, with no strings attached until the Lord guided us the next step of the way. The minister was very understanding and made us very welcome. We continued enjoying fellowship for some weeks but became aware of pressure for us to show our commitment to that church by becoming members. This was the very thing we knew would have been out of God's will for us. Yes, it would have been very easy to say yes, and settle down into a comfortable pew but we knew that we needed to remain available for whatever God was calling us into. Unfortunately the pressures continued so we quietly withdrew.

Some days later I was visiting the local shops when I saw a Christian brother. He was busy delivering leaflets advertising a Christian Fellowship that was meeting in the community centre on our estate. This man had a particular gift in telling people on the streets of the love of Jesus and how He could change their lives. He handed me a notice to put in our front window. As I spoke to Faith about this notice, it struck me as being ridiculous that I should be advertising a Fellowship meeting that I had never attended or supported. From this conversation a seed was planted in my mind that we should visit the Hawtonville Christian Fellowship.

Sunday arrived and we attended the service; there was nothing there to excite us, no bells rang, there were no flashes of light saying that this was where we were to settle. God did not speak to us saying, 'This is your new home this is what I have called you for.' The meeting was very ordinary and although we did not feel any drawing or attraction we decided to go the following week and then the next and the next. We started attending the mid-week meetings, at the same time sensing that there was something to this fellowship. Perhaps we were not going to get a specific word or obvious directing as I had experienced before I joined the Assemblies of God Church. Then I had known such a strong sense of God's purpose for me that I could have stood face to face with the devil himself and defied him with the assurance that God had given me. Now I had no such conviction or assurance. The fellowship had a family atmosphere and a real heart for the thousands on the council estate who did not know Jesus. I saw a work to be done and was happy to help build whatever God had for that estate.

The Estate was a fairly typical example of the nineteen fifties, nineteen sixties sprawl of properties. It had a population of about ten thousand five hundred with a high crime rate to match. Drug dealing was done openly. The marks of damage and graffiti were everywhere and it had its fair share of violence, even the elderly were harassed on their way to the community centre. If they travelled by car, then their cars would be vandalised in the car park. Youths would, from time to time, shout abuse and obscenities through the front door during the worship service or the various dance clubs and activities arranged for the residents. For some of the estate residents, it was just too much for them, they would only venture out once a week to collect their pension and shopping and then lock themselves in their flats and houses for the rest of the week.

Often we would arrive at the community centre to find that some party or celebration had taken place the night before and that the hall had not been cleaned out. The floor was sticky with spilt beer and food. The smell of stale smoke and beer filled the building. Sometimes staff were already cleaning the building as we arrived for our morning worship but often we had to set to with mops and buckets, vacuums and lots of disinfectant and fresh air spray. It may not be a pretty place. There may be many difficulties. The numbers may be small. I am sure that I could have found hundreds of reasons not to stay, but somehow we knew that for the time being God wanted me to serve Him right here on this estate.

Not long after settling into our new home, some of the neighbours became aware of my ability in the field of repairing domestic appliances. I found that I could sit down in my little shed and relax as I tinkered about with what became an almost steady stream of kettles, irons, toasters, lawn mowers and other tools and equipment. I did not charge for my labour, only the price of replacement parts. Of course folk were very happy to have their appliances repaired cheaply, but through this I found many opportunities to make friends and then to share the love of Jesus with them. Someone has said, 'Go and preach the gospel and use words only if you have to' So I practised this. My repairs led me into many homes in the area. I could see that there were many needs. Some people were very lonely and other were not looking after or feeding themselves. Still others were experiencing real financial hardship or had no idea how to manage what money they did have. Faith and I responded to this by becoming more involved in helping our neighbours.- Perhaps a gift of groceries or a hot dinner; some just wanted someone to talk with, so I was there for them. I had not realised just how many desperately lonely people there were.

One lady we came across was a particularly objectionable and awkward character. Faith started praying for her and after a while visited her. Faith seems to have a way with difficult and cantankerous people, (Perhaps that's why she loves me!) she could be direct and forthright but without causing offence. So with prayer and Faith's gift, this lady was won over to become a friend. I saw that for years she had lived on only sandwiches and had not enjoyed a proper dinner. So Faith would cook her a nice meal which I delivered. I found that after a while during my visits and without any prompting she would ask me to pray for her before I left. If you knew this lady you would realise what a miracle this was!

The fact that we had befriended so many neighbours led us to find out about others that we had no contact with. One such person was a man that lived in flat that we could see from our home. It appeared dirty, the net curtains looked as though they had never been washed, although Faith assured me that they sometimes come in that colour. (I was not so sure!) I found out that an elderly invalid man was living there. I decided to go and make myself known to him. What a sight greeted my eyes as I entered his flat. I had never seen anything like it in all my life. You could only just find space to step between the mountains of clutter that he had hoarded. There were hundreds and hundreds of videotapes filling a whole wall floor to ceiling, there were thousands of music tapes. there were piles of televisions, videos and music centres stacked one on top of another. The little bit of floor you could see, was a tangled mass of wires and cables, like a bowl of multicoloured spaghetti. There were ornaments and clocks stacked everywhere. Towering piles of magazines and newspapers leaned precariously. In the midst of this jumbled mass and sitting in the only space that was left in the room sat Harry, ash falling from the remains of his cigarette. There was evidence of a serious smoking habit all around him. The air was thick with smoke. Everything in the room was coated with nicotine, the ceiling was now a dull dirty yellow and what was visible of the wallpaper was so badly discoloured that it blended into the ceiling. The windows were a fog of grime and nicotine reducing the light to a dingy glow. Even during the day the bare electric light bulb remained on but due to a coating of dirt, only a yellow haze penetrated the smoke.

I introduced myself to this man and as time passed by we became friends. I would often go and sit with him and give him some much needed company. From time to time I would relay messages and do shopping for him or transport him in my car for an appointment in town. As I prayed for this man I could only visualise him siting in that same chair alone all day and smoking one cigarette after another. Apart from one other neighbour the only other visitors he saw were those who went to borrow money from him. He was a good hearted man and would help people out but unfortunately they took advantage of him and never paid him back, only returning with some sob story to borrow yet more. From his room he ran a very small business, buying and selling. Of course some folk sold him junk to get money from him knowing that he would never be able to sell it on.

One day he was on my mind so I went across to see him. I said, "Harry, you've been on my mind. I have been thinking that one of these days that I will come across here and not be able to get an answer, or the neighbours will come to me saying that they cannot make you hear. I will come across and find that you have died in your chair. What does concern me, is that you will die without knowing Christ as your Lord and Saviour." I knew that he had a chequered background and had been in trouble with the authorities, but I sat down and told him that regardless of what he had done in his life God loved him. I told him the story of Jesus and how He had come to earth to save him and all that would believe in Him. I returned home to collect a bible that I gave him, saying, "This is for you, Harry; I don't want you thinking that I have been making all this up about Jesus. You read it for yourself; all that I have been talking about is in here, right here in these Gospels".

Just days later a neighbour's urgent knock on our door brought the news that Harry was very poorly. I went to him and there he was, weak and desperately ill, collapsed in his chair. As the doctor could not attend and seeing the urgency of the situation, I telephoned again. This resulted in Harry being taken into hospital where he was diagnosed as having lung cancer. He was transferred to Nottingham City Hospital where I regularly visited him. He was very poorly but able to communicate. Just a few days before Christmas he was transferred to Newark hospital. When I visited him on Christmas Eve I felt prompted to say, "Harry, you remember that day when I came and spoke with you and had a heart to heart talk with you"? He nodded, knowing what I was getting at. I continued, "You won't leave it too late to put your life right with The Lord". He replied, "No". Christmas Day passed; then on Boxing Day I got the news that Harry had died. I wondered, Where is Harry now? Will I ever know this side of eternity, if he had put his life right with God? I went to visit the neighbour who had given me the news and this was her story. "I was sitting at Harry's bedside holding his hand as he was obviously slipping away. He was very ill and weak, with his eyes closed. I could not tell if he was asleep or in a coma when suddenly and without any warning he sat bolt upright. I was startled as he had not sat up for weeks. He opened his eyes wide and stared at the bottom of the bed and said, 'Oh, it's Jesus'. Then he fell back dead". Floods of tears welled up and coursed down my face, but I was not weeping with sorrow, no, these were tears of joy as the overwhelming assurance that Harry had made the right decision and was now with his saviour. Even years later, recalling this event brings tears to my eyes as I wonder at this God of love we have.

The neighbour who had witnessed this event now plied me with questions about Jesus and it was not long before she too committed her life to the Lord and asked Jesus to be her saviour. On my kitchen door at home hangs a pencil drawing which Harry had done for me months previously.

I remembered the day he gave it to me. He said, "I've done this for you, Fred". Although I thanked him for it and hung it up at home, I honestly did not give it a lot of thought, but now it took on a new significance. I looked at it again and saw a Maltese Cross with the lettering 'Jesus is Lord' arranged around the cross. I had not prompted Harry to do this. It was of his own accord. Harry had confessed Jesus as Lord. God had watered the seed and now taken him home. I pondered, 'Was the reason we came to live in this flat in the middle of a council estate, to show Harry and his neighbour the way to Jesus?' If so, then it was worth it for that alone. All the riches of the Kingdoms of this Earth could not buy what these two now have. The words of William Mullen came to my mind, 'The next time you see a dirty old tramp, just remember, inside there is a soul that Jesus died for!' That's how God saw Harry. He does not want us to turn our noses up at folk because they smell or have some dirty habits. He does not want us to refuse to sit in a dirty home or drink out of a grubby, cracked mug. God had taught me so much about His love, yet I knew that I had only glimpsed a tiny portion of His vast, unending, unconditional love that He has for each one of us.

As a Pentecostal Christian everything had been either black or white, it was either yes or no, you were in or out-everything had seemed so clear. I now see God as neither black nor white, but as The Light of The World. I hardly dare say it, but it seemed almost if God had loaned me His eyes and I was starting to see people as He sees them. He has given me something of His love and compassion. He has given me tears to weep for the tramp and the murderer, the vandal, the prostitute and homosexual, even the child molester. This new vision sees those in the cults and world religions, the Mormon and Jehovah's Witness not as people to slam the door in the face of, or be rude to, but as objects of His love. The warring factions, political and national leaders-yes, inside each one is a soul that Jesus died for. I am so glad that God took my Pentecostal sight away and gave me His insight. When now, I look with my new vision the Lord says, "This is how I see them". "This is how I feel about them. This is how I love them. This is what I would say to them". Although I had the head knowledge that I was part of the family of God, this new vision has helped me take my place and fulfil my role within His family.

I know that in the past I have been guilty of going into dead churches and writing them off. I have gone into dead meetings and made my judgement upon them. I have reacted with shudders of rebuke and disdain, dismissing them as a hopeless cause. I acknowledge and confess my reactions were wrong. It may be that the stinking tombs of Lazarus are still with us. There may be no deader places, but Jesus still speaks life into them today. The stink of death can be removed as the grave clothes are removed. He is the God of the living and the dead. He didn't just stay with the living but moved amongst the dead. Surely He has called each one of us to follow Him in this and see lifeless churches become alive before our eyes.

As I recall these thoughts, I can see through my window a lady over the road cleaning windows. This reminded me of a Christian poster depicting a window cleaner and a caption that read, 'You don't know just how dirty you were until you are cleaned'. It was so true, I didn't know I was a captive until I was set free. I didn't know I was dead until I was made alive. The words of Isaiah 61 had been made alive in me;

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,

because He has anointed me to preach good news to the poor.

He has sent me to bind up the broken-hearted,

to proclaim freedom for the captives

and release from darkness for the prisoners.

For some reason, it was not until I had moved out of the mainstream church that God had opened my eyes to some of these things. I am glad He has changed my heart and given me a new understanding of His viewpoint. If this is why He moved me out of the church where I thought that would spend the rest of my days, then I am glad. I'm glad He is still working on me.

One lesson The Lord taught me was in two parts with a gap of many years between the lessons. Part one was as I left the York Assembly. You will recall my feelings of hurt as those I had counted as Christian brothers and sisters had turned their backs on me. I thought the lesson was about forgiveness and being right with one another. Part two of my lesson unfolded as I left the Newark church. Why had I to experience these same hurts and distress all over again, and from the very people I had helped, prayed for and ministered to? As I prayed about this, the words came into my mind, 'Can you see how this behaviour is hurting you, how it is affecting you?' There was a pause as I considered this question, then the words continued, 'You must not cause this hurt to others'. I knew that this lesson in love had to take hold in my heart so that my response to anyone leaving a fellowship must be likened to a much loved family member moving on. I am to be a channel of God's love to these brused hurting people.

Although I have been a Christian for over forty years, I feel that during the past two years the Lord has sent me back to school. My first lesson was to unlearn some things that I had picked up along the way, sincerely believing that they were of Him, but in reality, they were only religious tradition or man's ideas. Only then could I learn and put into practice His standard of love, His patience, His understanding, His standard of forgiveness, but perhaps most importantly, how He sees each one of us. I think that during my time within the mainstream fellowship I had allowed myself to become set in my ways according to the tradition of the church, set in my reactions to situations, set in prayer and praise, set in my responses and behaviour. It was almost as if a Pentecostal stamp had been put on my life and conformed me to its ways, when the truth is that God is much bigger than the Pentecostal or any other church. I felt privileged to be a sixty-seven year old in God's School classroom with a wonderful teacher.

I believe and stand firmly on the Word of God. I suppose you would call me dogmatic, a label I am happy to wear but God was to show me a dogmatism in me that was not of Him, a dogmatism I could not be proud of. As I had gone along my Christian walk I had picked up tradition and ways from other churches, believing these to be right. I adopted them into my life and became dogmatic about them. The Lord had spoken to me before on this matter. It was shortly after I moved from the Glory meetings to the Newark Assemblies of God Church. I had been praying about liberty and freedom in the Spirit that I had enjoyed with the Glory Folk, wanting that same blessing for the Newark Assembly. God's thought planted in my mind was that He did not want The Assembly full of little Freddies. It appeared that the things that I thought would be good for the church were not the same as God had planned. He was going to build His church in His way and in His time. I thought I had got the message, learned the lesson, but God was bringing it back to me. God is still building His Church and Fred need not think he can impose any ideas or traditions because they feel right or because they have worked well in another church. I now want to be the Fred that God wants me to be and I want others to grow into what God wants them to be. This did not mean that I was now redundant, but I have a new awareness of what God was doing amongst His people and I was not about to cause any problems for them by placing any religious hurdle or barrier of tradition in their way and thwart God's plans and purposes. Incidentally I did see some of the freedoms and liberty released into the Church, but it was in His time and in His way.

15 JESUS MANAGING DIRECTOR

For me, Jesus is now the spice of life. Every day there is something fresh. No day is mundane with Jesus but excitingly new. He is new every morning and I love living in this and experiencing it in my life. The Bible tells me that I have been called to bear fruit and that I will grow into maturity. It is wonderful to wake up and wonder, what has He in store for me today? What new thing will I see? The Apostle Paul shows us that he had learnt to be content. Even at his level of maturity his desire was that the Lord would continue to work on him and conform him to whatever God had planned.

There is a poster depicting a rabbit eating lettuce leaves-The caption reads, 'Let your work on me I experienced Him tenderising my heart and mind. My attitudes changed. My understanding of God had changed. My view of Christian work and church changed. My walk with God had changed and became more intimate. The only thing that had not changed was God and His word-the basic truths of the Cross, the blood of Jesus and that we must be born again and filled with the Holy Spirit. As I grew, my willingness to be changed grew. This meant I had to sit down. I had to shut up and listen. I had to recognise that our wonderful God of variety can do what He likes in the differing churches and in individual lives. My perception of what God needed to do in this life or that church needed discarding as it is He that does all things well. It is often with hindsight that I have admitted His plans are perfect.

I can look back to the day when I said, 'I surrender all,' but the reality was that I had hung onto wrong attitudes for years. It is only as I developed a closer walk with Jesus that I became aware with awesome wonder and realisation of just who was asking me to change. I had a sense of amazement that He should want to speak to me. The King of Creation, this Jehovah, this Yahweh, this Holy, Holy, Holy God loves, is concerned with and even speaks to this speck of humanity called Fred. As a young Christian surrendering can be very hard; its conflicting difficulties with the world are very real, but as we really grow to love Jesus, surrender becomes our privilege and joy.

Surrendering all included my reputation. There is a reputation and esteem with which man labels each one of us. At one meeting a minister introduced me as Fred, one of our most faithful brothers. Some may be impressed by this, but oh, how shallow and fleeting is the praise of men. What value is man's opinion that is restricted and viewed with flawed sight? The only approval I seek is God's. I want to be a God-pleaser not a man-pleaser.

Just weeks after I had received this (glowing) introduction, touching on my reputation, I felt the Lord calling me to do a certain thing. The very same person who had praised me heard of this and disagreed with me. He chose a public meeting to criticise and condemn me; how quickly he changed his mind about my reputation. He was so sure he was right and that I had misheard God's directions to me that he was happy to discredit me. Fortunately God had already dealt with me in this area. I had no reputation to lose, so this man was wasting his breath attacking it. I rejoiced that I could do whatever God asked me, no matter how foolish it looked in the eyes of men. What men had thought or how it may damage my reputation had been such a barrier to my being obedient to God, but praise Him, these obstacles had been removed. I was free from these restrictions and barriers that limit so many of God's children. When we see this kind of incident from God's viewpoint, it becomes so easy to forgive our critics.

God's call on my life had brought a wrong response from this brother, but was not God teaching me a lesson also? What if our positions had been reversed? How would I respond? I pray that my response would be that of love. If a friend sincerely feels God's call on their life into a new direction, then I must not be the barrier, indeed I should encourage, release and bless him and acknowledge that only God sees the full picture, the overall plan. When new folks come into a fellowship and express a desire to be part of His family, we call them forward, we welcome, lay hands on them and pray God's blessing. I believe our behaviour should be exactly the same when He calls that person elsewhere; we should release him with joy and God's blessing, not with the curses and rebuke of men.

A story that illustrates something of what I am trying to say goes like this; A King called his servant and said, "I command you to go to a certain city". The servant set off and along the road encountered another of the King's servants, but who was travelling in a completely different direction. The first servant challenged him and enquired where he was going. On finding that the destination was different from his, the first servant strongly rebuked the second saying, 'You must be wrong; stay with me because the King definitely told me to go to this particular city.' You see these servants could not comprehend that the King could have sent one to the city and the other somewhere else. As long as we know that it is the King that has called and sent us, nothing else matters. No distractions should hinder us or alter our course. If we encounter the King's servant heading for a different harvest field, we should send him on his way with encouragement, with God's blessing and the assurance of our prayers.

God's direction is not limited to which church I attend or what ministry I am involved in, but He wants to be involved in every part of my life. I need to be aware of that and live in it. I need to practise His presence in every one of life's situations. Perhaps I had applied for and been offered a job. The position was definitely mine and I was to start on Monday, but late on Friday I get a telephone call telling me not to come in as the position had gone. The old Fred would not have been very happy. Indeed there could have been a very angry Fred banging on the manager's door demanding an explanation. But what about the new Fred? Should I be disappointed? I can honestly say that as I have grown as a Christian I can now thank God for this situation. He is my manager now, He opens doors of opportunity or closes those He does not want me to go through, perhaps saving me from some disaster that I could not have foreseen. I believe that my God can open doors that no man can shut. He can direct my path in so many different ways and guide me into the very place He wants me to be, so I can praise God for closing a door.

It is interesting to see that as we mature as Christians, so many aspects of out life change, our reactions to situations, our love for one another. As I started to grow, I noticed a change in my prayer life. I can smile as I look back; some of my first prayers seemed so childish and were defiantly selfish. Once on a railway platform, I remember praying, 'Lord when the train comes in I want it to stop with the door of a carriage exactly where I am standing so I can thank and praise you.' Now I look along the platform for some disabled person, or perhaps a struggling mother, laden with pushchair and luggage and with young children pulling at her skirts. Now I pray, 'Lord bless this person; make it convenient for her to get on the train. Send her help to cope with her problem.' (Or, of course, it could be that I may be part of the answer with an offer of help!) There is no room for selfish prayers for those who want to be servants of the King. The Spirit of God is changing me from asking for my wants, my visions and my plans to saying, 'I just want to walk with you, God. Nothing else matters; I just want more of you in my life.'

I am glad that God opened some doors and closed others so that I can be where I am today. I love seeing the things of God that I see today and being where I am with Him. This does not mean that everything in the garden is beautiful, or life has become easier, but as I sit down and ponder God's workings I can see His hand both in the blessings and in the trials and testings. God said He would never leave me or forsake me. For me that means He is in all my circumstances, even disasters like my grandson being killed. I don't know all the reasons or answers. Perhaps one day God will show me that He took my grandson to rescue him from some terrible evil that would befall him later in life. I just don't know, but I know he is safe in the presence of God. I believe that God has ordained a beautiful life for each one of us. The problem He has is getting us to live that life. Sadly we often prefer our own way. I believe that the only way to live the life that God intended for us in this day of evil is to be filled with His Holy Spirit. How can we pray, 'Your kingdom come' then with the next breath refuse the infilling of the Holy Spirit that will equip us and enable that very prayer to be answered in us?

The truth of this was revealed to me through a Spirit filled young person.-In my last days before I left the mission I experienced doubt. I began to question whether I had really heard God, whether He had called me out. I felt prompted to visit the Newark Assemblies of God Church. Of course I knew I was not supposed to visit any other church and the mission leaders would be unhappy with me but the leading in my heart was so strong that I knew I must go. I entered through the unlocked front door. To my utter dismay the church was absolutely empty. My mind was buzzing with thoughts that I must be imagining that God had spoken to me. Perhaps everything that I had seen in my mind about the mission was just my imagination working overtime. I turned to leave that little church feeling such a fool. I was just about to close the door behind me when I heard the sound of voices emanating from a small room at the back of the church. I listened carefully; yes, it was definitely voices. I crossed the small church and opened the door to find some kind of youth prayer meeting taking place. I slipped quietly into a seat and as I did so, one of the youngsters gave a message in tongues. A young man whom I took to be the leader gave the interpretation. It went something like this, "It is I the Lord that is speaking to you. It is I that have shown you the way, don't fear, just obey". The young man looked around and said, "I don't understand that, but I know it is for someone in this room." I approached him at the end of the meeting and told him that God had prompted me to come that night and I knew that the message was for me. My moving from one fellowship to another was not an accident, it was part of His plan. God the Holy Spirit had arranged this message of confirmation just for me. What a peace He had given me. I had a great assurance that God's hand was on this. It was His work, His Plan, His responsibility and He would provide and see it through. God does not want me to build something great and mighty so that I can say, "Look what I have done"! No, I want to say, "Wow, God, The situation was hopeless and look what you did. Or, that place was dead, it is you that brought it alive." I never want to forget it is His work. Now many years later Faith and I find ourselves in a little fellowship in the middle of a large council estate. There are things we don't understand, things we may not like, but I know it is His work and His responsibility. He has not called me to like or understand everything that happens but to obey Him in humility. I have forfeited my reputation for Jesus. I have no merit, no credit except in following Him.

16 RELEASING CAPTIVES

My first introduction as a Christian to visiting prisons was at a Young Offenders Institution called Lowdham Grange. I went along with a few friends to what was called 'Chaplains Night'. We met in the main dining hall. You could see that those influenced by the macho peer pressure gave us a very wide berth but a number were genuinely interested in what we had to say. We would sing a few songs and then hold what today is called group therapy, but the emphasis was on what the Bible said about the particular issue or problem that was raised.

These visits continued for a number of years with a steady but small stream of boys making commitments to make Jesus Lord of their life. About this time one of the group bought an 8mm projector and hired the film, 'The Cross and the Switchblade'. We got permission to show this film at Lowdham. At that time a film show in this kind of prison was very much a novelty. The governor also gave permission for all the inmates to assemble together for this showing. This of course meant that all the prison officers had to be present and they stood all around the walls. At the end of the film an invitation was made for anyone who wanted to come to know this Jesus who had so dramatically changed the lives of these violent gang members, to come forward. We were completely unprepared for the response. Over ninety per cent of those present stepped forward for prayer, some openly weeping and repenting in front of their fellow inmates. I shall never forget that tremendous night as long as I live. Even years later a few of these now grown

men keep in contact and often speak of that night. Sadly the authorities chose to run down and then close this establishment.

Many years later Faith and I were invited to join the Newark Prison Christian Fellowship. I enquired about its history and found that the group were from a number of different denominations who met to pray for prisons, and in particular those in our area. This group met in response to the vision of one lady, Sylvia Allison, who had felt God's call on her life to pray for and set into being a national organisation which would pray for prisons in Great Britain. For over two years the group met regularly to pray. This group was fortunate in having two probation officers who, together with information from the national office, kept us well informed of matters for prayer.

Prison Chaplains were by now becoming aware of all the Prison Fellowship groups springing up all over the country. We received an invitation from one Chaplain inviting us to share in a prison service. Then as the years passed more and more invitations came until now we visit one prison every month. Although we enjoy these visits, our first priority is still to the monthly prayer meeting which is in now in its thirteen year. These start with praise and worship which flows into prayer; our leader Rob updates us with national and local information such as the success of the recent Alpha courses, perhaps news of a revival in some prison, or details of the Angel Appeal which arranges Christmas presents for prisoners' children. There is often more prayer, then finally the details of our next prison visit are finalised. Faith and I have committed ourselves to this ministry and look forward to both the prayer meetings and the prison visits.

We are fortunate that within the group four can preach, two have very good voices and there is never a lack of volunteers to pray, give a testimony or read the scriptures. The only thing I refuse to do is sing, much to the relief of our group! A great deal of camaraderie has developed within the group, which results in our having a lot of fun together, but I am not quite sure how the Prison Fellowship trainers view this as they have to put up with a lot of banter on training days!

One aspect of Prison Fellowship (PF) that was new to me was the training. You see it is not a 'do as you like, anything goes' fellowship, but a body of people who are disciplined and agree to work within a strictly defined set of rules and regulations. Without this understanding and submission the authority of P.F. would be undermined and it would lose its integrity and standing with the authorities. The professional training programmes have won the respect of the prison authorities and the chaplaincy. The Newark P.F. group to which I belong is subject to the local prison chaplains of each of the establishments that we visit. So when, for example, there is a change in the security arrangements, our group is happy to comply and therefore preserve the integrity of National P.F. It is a responsible work and we have to handle it responsibly. Periods of training are held right across the country. Only after completion of these courses and with suitable references is a P.F. member recognised and accredited.

My instruction on the wide-ranging ministry of P.F. covered such topics as the culture and language of the Penal system, categorisation of prisons and inmates, security rules, (which as far as I was concerned was 'take nothing in, bring nothing out'), Rule 43, vulnerable prisoner unit, remand and sentenced prisoners, the verities of sentencing, statutory duties of the Chaplain, prison routine, parole board and tariff dates. Terms such as, the block, on the rule, the baron and trustees were all explained, together with some of the abbreviated prison jargon; V.O. stands for visiting order, P.V. Prison Visitor and so on. Rules for writing letters and regulations for prison visits were explained. Guidelines were given on transporting prisoner families for a visit; we were informed about training and help available for inmates with drug, alcohol or relationship problems and assistance available to prisoners on their release. Instruction was given about hostels, probation, after-care and the use of the Prison Fellowship directory.

An awareness of the system was important so that I would not knowingly break any rule, but be able to relate to prisoners with understanding. Valuable and necessary as all this information is, our group have proved that the most valuable thing we can do is pray. There were times when we needed wisdom beyond our natural ability, and a total dependency on God's power to speak the right words into situations.

It must be so discouraging running a penal system and finding that such a high proportion re-offend and return into the same system. The chaplains must also feel this. Theirs seems at times a very lonely job with very little encouragement or support, so it has been our group's privilege to befriend local chaplains and share something of what they are doing. Over the years I have heard so many prisoners vow never to return, but within months they are back. Try as they might, their own determination and resolve are not strong enough to beat their old habits. I know of only one sure way to beat the system and that is the vision and hope of our group for all the inmates, that they have a completely new start, a new life with Jesus. What a joy it would be to see their lives transformed-violent men with murder in their hearts become gentle giants, con. men become ambassadors for Jesus, released men become responsible citizens, loving husbands and fathers. Although society rights them off as useless rubbish, God sees them as having potential and value, indeed as objects of His love. This is why, for me, my visits to prison take priority over holidays, birthday parties, hearing some great preacher or any other thing. You see I am free to hear the Gospel that leads to eternal life any time I choose, but a prisoner only has a few minutes during the Sunday service and only then if the Gospel is preached. If I am not faithful in proclaiming the love of God it may be the last chance for someone who would face a lost eternity because I chose to have a picnic by the sea or do some other trivial thing when God wanted to use my privileged opportunity to introduce some prisoner to Jesus.

Even though this painful body of mine is wearing out and I am past retirement age, I know that as a servant in God's Kingdom there is no retirement. I do not know how many more chapters He wants to write in my life, but I do know that I shall enjoy walking every day with Him, until I shall see Him face to face.

THE END
