What's God ever done for Me? - Clive

Thinking back, I have come to understand that God must have had his hand upon me from an early age. I recall as a very young child thinking there must be more to life than this. Not that I was unhappy as a child, far from it, but somehow I knew I was just a very small part of a very intricate set-up created by a powerful being.

I struggled to make sense of all this. Talking about 'God' at home was not something we did as a family. God was never really mentioned. We never went to church unless it was for a wedding or a funeral. Often then it would be to make fun of the service, which was not difficult.

During my later teenage years I was taught English by a retired vicar. He took me under his wing and inspired me to greater effort by meeting-up outside class time, encouraging me to read and discuss books, often in the pub! Our conversations were not just confined to literature and touched on what I was truly searching for. I would return home after such meetings and try to discuss matters with my family but to no avail. Nevertheless the seed was planted and growing, if ever so slight.

During my time training to be a teacher I put to one side any thoughts about God. In my final year at University I met Catherine and we decided to get married after I'd completed my degree, secured a job and rented a flat in Bracknell. Like most young couples we worked hard and played hard. We eventually bought a house and then along came our first child, Daniel, followed 16 months later by, Michael.

Through various circumstances we eventually moved to Billericay, still working hard and playing hard. Home life was not always easy, neither was work. We had a big house and a seemingly even bigger mortgage, and through a number of experiences we found ourselves at a low point wondering what on earth life was all about.

One Sunday I said; 'I'm off to church - there has to be a better way', Catherine came too, neither of us really knowing why. But there was something missing that could not be filled by anything else, and believe me, we had tried all sorts of things! Nothing worked.

We played safe and went once a month to the 'Family Service' and most times there would be an appeal to come forward and accept Jesus. There were many times I felt I should go forward but my feet were like lead. My parents lived with us and knowing how my father felt l just could not take that step - it would be like a betrayal. But I did not really know the truth about my father. Some years later I learnt that he and my mother would have loved to come with us to church.

My father had been ill for many years but he deteriorated and was taken into Basildon hospital. On 4th September 1988 he died and the strangest thing happened. As I mourned for my father, I was filled with the Spirit of God as I accepted Christ into my life. A real mixture of emotions.

How could I tell Catherine at such a sad time. My father had truly become a father to her, so she was just as upset as me. However, whilst she was in the park with our sons Daniel and Michael and I dealt with the legal matters, she read a pamphlet given to her by our vicar, and she too prayed a prayer of commitment. Neither of us felt we could tell the other until about a fortnight later!

From that time on we went to church every week. We began working with the children in Pathfinders and then CYFA. We went to Spring Harvest and then New Wine each year. We were confirmed and began leading a Home Group. In 1991 I was encouraged to explore becoming ordained, following various prophecies that had been spoken over me, and the rest as they say is history.