Some of the friends of Worcester City Mission have a great story to tell. We invite you to read these testimonies.

Kazz tells us her story

Andy's story

Trevor's story

There is also a prayer at the bottom of this page. If after reading these testimonies you want to use this prayer please click here.

I was brought up as an atheist. My family and me all felt that if there really was a God life would be much better than it was. You see life was tough for our family. It started when I was 6 and my Mum died. I felt like my world ended there and then. The only person who really knew how to show me love was taken from me.

Dad was not really a child rearing kind of person and suddenly he was left with 5 kids to care for. He crumbled under the pressure and turned to alcohol. This meant that he was never around when we needed him. For 2 years after that I never saw him sober. He was often sprawled across the bottom of the stairs when I got up for school in the morning. Or sometimes he never made it home at all. On the few occasions he was actually conscious he was violent because of the drink.

From this time on I was brought up by my brothers who were not much older than me. During this time I became an expert thief. Dad was an easy target, I could take money, or cigarettes from his pocket when he was sparked out on the stairs, when he woke up he couldn't remember how much he had anyway so he never noticed anything had gone. I also started shoplifting, and on the few occasions I got caught the shop keepers took pity on me because they knew my family situation so they never pressed charges against me, so I just got away with it.

I lost all my friends too because I became very bitter. I wouldn't let anyone get close to me. I was probably afraid that if I started to really care about someone they would either be taken away from me or they'd hurt me like my Dad did. I became violent towards the other kids at school, often picking fights with boys and setting it up so they would get into trouble for fighting with girls.

When I was just 9 years old a new girl moved into our road. Her family were Christians. She was a bit of a loner being the new girl and she saw m e as a loner and decided to try to be my friend. I hit her many times when she came up to me in school, but she really confused me by coming back the next day and apologising for annoying me. I knew she had done nothing and so did she. This seemed so strange to me, not at all normal behaviour for a nine year old girl. Anyway eventually she won. I was so intrigued by her behaviour I wanted to know why she did this, and we became friends. I went back to her house one night and she asked me if I would come to church with them on Sunday, I laughed at this, but that night I thought about it and decided to go with her.

At church, I found that people accepted me for what I was. And more important than that they cared. I nearly got thrown out a few times, for picking on other kids, and generally causing trouble. In the summer the church paid for me to go on holiday with them, to a Christian camp. I hated it.

The following year for some reason I was keen to go back to camp again even though I had hated it the year before. This time there was a leader there who was so funny, he reminded me of Norman Wisdom. He was caring, and always making us laugh. I spent many hours chatting to him during our free time. one night he gave his testimony and told how he was regularly in trouble with the police when he was younger, how he was violent and a thief. I sat there in disbelief, thinking "No way! There is no way anyone can change that much". So I went to talk to him afterwards and he agreed with me, no one can change that much by his own strength. He explained to me that the only one with the power to change people like that was God. I began to believe there must be something in this God thing after all. So I asked him how God could do that for me.

That night I knelt down and asked Jesus to forgive me. To come into my life and change me. I accepted him as Lord of my life and have never looked back since.

I went back to school, and 2 weeks into term one of the teachers asked me what had happened to me, as I seemed like a different person. I told her I had asked Jesus into my life and her face lit up. She said "I was hoping you would say that." My church were amazing - they helped me to adjust to my new life and supported me through the tough times, and there were plenty of them.

My church emphasised the importance of memorising scripture which I did, I committed whole chapters of the bible to memory, this was a life saver as when I was 15 my Dad thought my interest in church was getting too serious, and he banned me from going, he also took my bible away from me. I survived this dry period by quoting scripture to myself. God was faithful and brought other Christians into school that I could have fellowship with. The ban lasted 6 months.

I started a Christian union at school and a girl came along just to laugh at us. 2 weeks later she met me on my way home and asked if I really believed what I preached at CU. So I took her home with me and in my bedroom I explained how God had rescued me when life just wasn't worth living. That night she gave her life to the Lord and we became best friends. When I left school she took over running CU for me.

I was deaf in my right ear at this point and wore a hearing aid. One day in 1984, I was meeting with 2 friends for a prayer triplet meeting prior to the Billy Graham campaign at Anfield football ground. During our prayer time my hearing aid battery ran out, so I prayed "Lord, let me hear what Sue is praying." I expected God to answer this by making Sue lift her head out of her hands. (Very annoying for those with hearing difficulties.) But God had greater plans. Immediately there was a click in my ear, and I could hear everything. I screamed. That was the end of the meeting, apart from our shouting praises. I was healed.

This is really only episode one of my story. God is so good. There is no way I could have pulled my life back together without his help. My life story is summed up in Romans 8:28 God really does use EVERYTHING for our good, even the seeming disasters in life, and even our own sin.

There is none greater than Him. Jesus deserves all the praise for the good He has done in my life. Without him I would probably be dead by now as I had already attempted suicide 3 times before I finally found him.

God bless

Love from Kazz.

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Hi, my name is Andy Hope-Hall (I'm also known as Andy Hall). In 1960 I was born in Rhodesia, which many remember from that country's rebellion against the Crown. My father was a Member of Parliament in Ian Smith's Rhodesian Front-led government.

From 1967, Rhodesia was subjected to an increasing rate of incursions from communist-backed terrorists. However, in the capital city - Salisbury - there was very little trouble at first. In fact, in the first ten years of independence from Britain, we knew nothing but prosperity. My father ensured that we went to church on a regular basis. In 1969, Rev. Bernard Wright of the Church of England in South Africa opened up Holy Trinity Church in Salisbury. That same year I made an initial call to the Lord. That was to be repeated over the years. In 1970 I gave my heart to the Lord. In 1973 I was "converted". And so it went on. I never knew any blinding flash, I never experienced any "electric shock", as we read or hear of in certain experiences. Thus, I thought something was wrong. I was confirmed at 16 - again, something that seemed more church-oriented than God-oriented, as I had read nothing of confirmation in the Bible. At boarding school, I attended Scripture Union. This was not welcome in the dormitories, where egotism and evil abounded. Our guardians (the teachers) never addressed this. When I was 13, my eldest brother went into the army for his national service (which had been increased due to the increasing emergency) and my other brother followed two years later. I remember praying every night for their safety, and I would cry quietly as I fretted about them and also the boarding school ordeals. At 16 I stopped going to the Scripture Union at school (Luke 9:26, James 1:2-8) and I set out to prove that I could be like the others. Within a couple of months I was caned for smoking. At home I was learning the joys of drink (Proverbs 23:29-35).

At school we raided a teacher's pantry for cigarettes and vodka. At home I was arrested for some trouble at a motel where there was a fight. Fortunately, no charges were brought. It taught me a lesson. Six months later, I had joined the BSA Police as a Cadet, partly to escape the immaturity of school, and partly because I wanted to play my part in the national struggle. My eldest brother left the country in 1977. My middle brother finished his national service and was now doing three months on call-up and three months off (he left in 1978). I eventually progressed from a Cadet to a Patrol Officer in the BSA Police Support Unit (otherwise known as the "Black Boots"), which was a crack counter-insurgency unit.

A severe training course presaged a rapid introduction to the realities of war. Up until then, I had only seen the spin-offs of war - the blown up vehicles, the funerals for those killed in action, school old-boys being killed. Within a month I had made my first "kill". By now I had no church contact, but I carried a New Testament and prayed at night as we rested under the beautiful night skies. More and more terrorists flooded into the country, and by mid-1979 many areas were considered to be under terrorist control. We resorted to responding in kind in anger at their depravities. Thus, in one patrol, we had been ambushed one night and fought off the enemy. I shot a civilian who had led us to his village, which was crawling with terrorists, and who gave us a hard time in battle. In that engagement I shot a terrorist, shattering his hip - he managed somehow to escape (I met him after the war; how he escaped on that hip I don't know). Later that day, on hot pursuit, we rounded up some mujibas (collaborators) and shot one through the wrist for gabbing off. It was an evil time. All my family had left the country by September 1979. I was on my own in a rapidly-changing country. Then came the cease-fire and "peace". The BSA Police became the Zimbabwe Republic Police. I served for another 18 months, and my high point was in commanding an operation in which we recovered near on a couple of thousand AK47s; a variety of machine guns; anti-aircraft guns; rockets; mortars; landmines; recoilless guns and thirteen shoulder-launched SAM 7 anti-aircraft missiles, all from arms caches near a large ZIPRA assembly point in the Zambezi valley.

I met a girl who was eager for marriage and children. We married. It took 18 years of some joy and many tears before that marriage ended. It was doomed from the start. Male depression is different from female depression, and I refused treatment for my mental problems (thinking that I was okay), and in the end I destroyed my marriage. However, God blessed us with two children. In 1985, we had moved to Pinetown in South Africa. We were encouraged to join a local charismatic church, I was baptised in the Holy Spirit, and spoke in tongues. I now read St Paul's letter to the Corinthians - that if we speak in tongues and have not love, we are only resounding cymbals. I still had a long way to go to learn love, and there was little teaching about it there. I was put off that church by the message of prosperity meaning spiritual success, and I went to a non-denominational church, and then back to the good old Church of England in South Africa - Christ Church in Pinetown.

1990 saw me joining an athletics club - and that became my God. I ran many marathons and ultra-distance marathons won silver medals in two races. From 1992, I trusted not in the Lord, but in my own understanding (Proverbs 3:5,6), and I was involved with a cell group resistance unit planning for what we felt was the looming civil war in South Africa, In 1994 we left South Africa for Worcester, England, due to the change of government and the expected collapse of educational standards.

It took thirty-something years of going my own way before I was brought to a place where I could turn to the Lord (Psalm 51:17) in all fullness. My wife left me, and in the loneliness and depths of despair, the Lord sustained me. Yet, there were habits which lingered, such as drinking. I felt that I drank in moderation - yet, in truth, I drank more and more in the evenings after church, after prayer meetings, and so on. Then, a dear brother, Derrick Long, gave an interpretation of tongues during prayer. The message was the Lord's concern at habits which we had which were harmful. I knew that the message applied to me, as well as to the smokers there. I tried to stop and found it impossible. I prayed one day in desperation, and that evening I asked the prayer meeting at Rainbow Hill to pray for me as I went into a time of self-denial. That evening was the first night in 18 years that I did not have a drink. Miracles happen - I have been dry since. I still go to pubs occasionally, but I have soft drinks or mineral water. Since then, I have also been healed of a long-term illness.

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I grew up on a rough housing estate, in a south coast city, and soon learned about life the hard way - I witnessed much that would upset many an adult - and as I grew older I became more and more disillusioned with society and, more importantly, other people. My school life was miserable and I suffered much torment and hate from my peers. I also suffered at the hand of several teachers who knew a thing or two about effective bullying.

Leaving school was a fantastic feeling and also a relief. I did my own thing (or at least the same as any other kid leaving school and doing their own thing) by becoming a punk, which led me to discover anarchy. I started to peddle drugs and used this to support my own habit of Speed, LSD, and cannabis. I also encouraged my punters to buy me a beer with every order, so I got a habit for beer too.

My life was dangerous, and the many fights I had are witness to this fact. Walking the streets loaded with cash and drugs made me a possible target for any one of my many enemies, including the police. This fear caused me to carry a knife, which I was prepared to use if I had to. This was, after all, what anarchy is all about; doing what you wanted to as and when it suited you.

On one boozy, drug-filled afternoon I made my way home with a "friend" when we got involved in an argument with someone accusing us of trying to steal his van. After a minute or two of arguing, my "friend" just pinched him full in the face. We were stood outside of his shop and some of his workers rushed out to his aid, and then I became caught up in this fight. The chap who we were arguing with received a cut from a knife. We managed to get away and we felt a buzz from it all. An hour or so later, as I walked down a street near to the site of this incident, I was arrested and subsequently charged with malicious wounding. All the evidence pointed to me doing the stabbing, although I honestly cannot remember what exactly happened.

This was going to be a difficult time in my life, as all things pointed to a custodial sentence. The whole case was a long drawn out affair lasting for eight months from arrest to sentence. On the day of sentencing I was taken from the Magistrate's Court to the Crown Court to receive sentencing, which my solicitor told me carried a minimum of six months inside.

I remembered the previous night and how scared I was then, as I thought about the prospect of prison. I prayed, "God, if you're out there I don't want to go to prison." I don't know why I should have prayed, especially as there is no one in my family who goes to church or anything like that. When I stood in the dock I became nervous again, and prayed something similar. When the judges returned to pass sentence I was given a non-custodial sentence of two years' probation. I was FREE! - and relieved. What a miracle!

I tried to change my life and start again - different pub, different friends, different place to live, and different clothes. But to no avail - within weeks I was up to all the same things: dealing, drinking, drug taking, fighting, etc. Life became the same again, and, to some extent, a bit worse. All of this took place in 1984.

In 1985, around February or March, a boat called the Om Doulos sailed into port. The people on board did several events. One day as I walked through the town centre I came across a small crowd of people watching this chap painting on a board and telling them something. As I stopped to look and listen he was talking about Jesus and was painting a drowning man; a lifebelt had been thrown to him with these two words on it, "JESUS SAVES."

At this point it all seemed to get rather personal, as if he was actually talking to me, as if there was no one else there. "You're drowning," he said. "Jesus is the only one who can save you." When he had stopped, he offered each one of us gathered around a small book called a Gospel (This one was the Gospel of John). He tried to talk to me, but I can't remember what he said. I walked off and sat on a nearby wall. I had been there for a couple of minutes when I was approached by a young lady I recognised but couldn't quite place. She greeted me and spoke politely to me for the first time in the two years I had known her. I greeted her back.

Then I realised who she was - Debbie! But why did she look so different? Where were all her hippie clothes? Where was the harsh look on her face? And where was her boyfriend, to whom I owed money for drugs I'd sold? And, more importantly, why was she talking to me when we were sworn enemies?

After the greeting, she asked me if I remembered her. "Yes," I replied and was a little surprised at the next thing she said. "I'm a Christian!" she proudly announced. I'm not too sure what she made of my response when I said, "I've been thinking about that!" Then it just seemed to get more odd as she invited me to carry her shopping bags to a local cafe so she could buy me a cup of tea.

This was not the Debbie I knew. That Debbie was always trying to get free drugs from me and making threats when I inevitably said no. That Debbie hated my guts and let me know it. That Debbie would give me nothing but take everything she could get. This "new" Debbie was different; she trusted me to carry her shopping, bought me a cup of tea, and lent me a copy of her Bible. She showed me love in the same way that Christ would do, and she told me about Jesus' death on a cross for my sins. She told me that, "I was a sinner bound for hell." One particular thing she said came from the Bible, and it was this:

"Your enemy, the Devil, prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone too devour."
(1 Peter 5 v 8)

"That's you." she said all of a sudden. At this point, many things started to make sense to me, and a day or two later, by my bedside, I gave my life to God. I prayed a simple prayer and I asked God into my life. That was in 1985. It has been a tough life as a Christian, because there are many things that try to trip you up. Having said that, I know the true forgiving power of Christ and the strength he can give on a daily basis.

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