My Testimony

I wasn't brought up in a Christian household but always believed in the existence of God. My great-grandad bought me a children's illustrated Bible one year, for either my birthday or Christmas, and I used to love reading it, especially the stories about Jesus. There was never a doubt in my mind that God created the world, or that Jesus lived on this earth. But that was it.

My dad died when I was in my mid-twenties and, after that, I felt an urge to go to church. I was working in my first school as a teacher at that time and one of the teaching assistants there was a Christian and her husband, who was one of our governors, was the Reverend of a local church. I taught their younger daughter. They were the first Christians I really knew and, although their faith was massively important to them, they never made anyone feel bad if it wasn't for them. There was nothing judgemental about either of them, and they always joined us in the pub for a boozy Friday night. Whenever things were a challenge, I remember it was completely natural for them to say that they were praying for me and I always found that a real comfort. Little did I know that a seed had been sown at that point. 

It took a good few years before I plucked up the courage to go to a church for a Sunday service. There was one near the supermarket I went to at the weekend, once I'd bought my first flat in Acton. I remember backing out of it so many times and doing a supermarket shop instead, but one Sunday I made it in. And I continued to go for many Sundays after, for months.  It was quite a traditional church and was Church of England so I soon learned what to say and when to say it. I enjoyed singing the hymns (the few that I knew) and it gave me a sense of purpose on a Sunday morning. However, that was it. Nothing more. I don't remember anyone really speaking to me in the months that I went and, although I learned things, it didn't really feel relevant to me. No one encouraged me to find out more or join any groups. So, when I had itchy feet and decided to move house and school to the other side of London, I didn't even think about finding a church too.

Skip forward a decade plus a bit and I was teaching in Bethnal Green and living in New Cross Gate. I had a partner and a fantastic group of friends and a job I really loved. Alex was born into what I thought was a loving and stable relationship ... but I found myself becoming a single parent when he was 7 months old and it was a challenge having a full time teaching job with a fair bit of a commute each day, plus the stresses of full time childcare. That's when I made the move to Staines where my mum lived and our close family friends. I was familiar with the area as it was where my grandparents, aunt and uncle and cousin had lived. I was able to buy a 2-bedroom house with a lovely garden and started a teaching position in Feltham. I met Mark and it was pretty clear early on that we were a perfect match for each other. 

Skip forward again to possibly the end of November 6 years ago. Mark and I had never discussed religion ever before. We'd been living together for ages and were married. We were a happy blended family. Mark, completely out of the blue, told me that he'd really like to start going to the local church round the corner from us. He said he just felt that he wanted to go. Shocked is not the word to describe how I felt at that, because I'd been thinking the exact same thing for such a long time but hadn't been courageous enough to say anything to Mark. I assumed he'd think I was silly, or boring, or weird. I had no idea that the really strong feelings I'd be getting about going to church and finding God had been felt by Mark at exactly the same time. For me, it was like a strong pull. Something out of my control was pulling at me to go. However much I tried to resist that pull, it kept going. So, we looked at the website and decided that, as Christmas was approaching, we'd wait until then as it would be easier to kind of slip in as lots of people choose to go to church at Christmas. 

It must've been a year when we picked our children from their other parents on Boxing Day as we attended the midnight service on Christmas Eve that leads into Christmas Day. I still remember it very clearly including some of the people that were there that we now consider to be our friends. 

So that led us into the year where Mark and I became Christians. It obviously doesn't happen straight away, and just going to church certainly doesn't make you a Christian. Maybe that's a story for another day. But I learned then that the Holy Spirit has power. I tried to 'do the church thing' on my own years before and it just didn't go anywhere. But the Holy Spirit spoke to both Mark and myself at the same time and then BOOM, here we are today. It cannot be what people call a coincidence. I no longer believe in coincidence. But I do know that I believe in an amazing God who wants us in a relationship with Him.