It was 20:30 (8.30 pm) approximately on 1st July 1973 while I sat having a smoke with my dear friend Grant. He had come to know Jesus in a radical way only weeks before. A sense of being turned inside out and scrubbed! (That’s another story for maybe another day!).
The change in his life was black and white. Instantaneous. Unpretentious. Real. I had never seen anything like it. He was the same old Grant, but completely different too.
We had done drugs together. We had been involved in Satan worship together. Now he wanted nothing more to do with any of that. I had tried to entice him back by inventing some stories, and telling him some true ones too, but he was having none of it. He looked at me one time and I felt the thud in my chest as he said, “I have found something so incredible, Pete (my school and second name), and I can never go back!”
I had been jealous of what he’d found. And lonely. Then desperate. Now, on this Sunday night at the age of sixteen I was internally cornered, in this damp, old, windowless worker’s canteen, where we used to escape for a drag in our free time. I bowed my head and prayed with my friend to give the reins of my life to Jesus.
The rest is history as they say. The change was instantaneous. My friends noticed it. My family. And most of all, I knew I was different. I chose that day to spend the rest of my life telling people about Jesus.
What about you? Did you ever come to a similar crisis of belief and commitment, or, like my Mum, did you just believe the Gospel message as it was revealed from childhood?