In the nick of time
A prisoner on a life sentence, his life – not the sentence – about to be cut short, gets a last-
In August 2006, I was at peace. At last I’d made the decision I had wanted to make for over three years. I was going to take my own life. Yes, my situation was so hopeless I’d lost the will to live.
It was 8.45 pm and I was in a cell in the segregation unit known to inmates as “The Chokey” or “Punishment Block”. At around 9.00 pm the day shift would change over to their night time colleagues. It would be then that I would put the noose I had made around my neck, fix it up at the window then let myself hang to death.
Just 15 minutes to wait, no more pain, no more shame. Relief from this awful situation I was in. I’m serving a life sentence for murder, the result of me “losing it” during a drunken argument. That I couldn’t remember what had happened as I was in a blackout at the time only compounded the dreadful remorse I felt on a daily basis.
A quiet voice spoke to me, “Just read that Bible”. On the shelf was a New Testament & Psalms. Until then it had been a blue coloured object on the shelf in my cell. My mind answered immediately, “What good is that going to do me?” Again the voice replied, “Just read that Bible” and again my mind countered with “What is the point?”
But the inner quiet voice persisted, “Just read that Bible.” I remembered thinking that it would pass the time until the night shift took over. But I also remember being resigned to the decision I had made to kill myself and did not have any real thought about why I was going to pick the Bible up.
I opened the book at the beginning. It was a list of names, very unusual names mostly. Nothing inspirational there. I read on, “So and so the son of son and so.” Blah, Blah, Blah! But something was stirring inside me. Something was happening. At verse 16 it says “and Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ.”
A massive realisation came over me. I remember exclaiming, “Wow, He is real!” From then on I could not stop reading through the gospel. At the Beatitudes there were tears, but I still had no hope. God couldn’t accept me. I was past being forgiven.
I tried to put the book down, but could not. Something was urging me on. Then at Luke’s Gospel it happened, chapter 15:11-
The angry, frightened desperate person I had become ceased to exist there and then. At verse 32, when Jesus’ words spoke of the brother who was “dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found”, I was found indeed. I wept openly with joy. Suddenly I had hope. I couldn’t have told you what for, I just knew I had hope. I wanted to live, there wasn’t any difficulty I wasn’t ready to face. My words do an injustice to the event happening in and round me.
I spent the rest of the evening reading Scripture. I was alive! Even in the darkness I lay on the bed in the small hours resting my eyes, yet expectant, excited, amazed, saved. I could pray! I was no longer alone. I was talking with Jesus, I couldn’t see Him but He was there.
Almost three years later my life in Christ is unrecognisable from the lost soul I was in that segregation cell. Not only has God transformed me, He has given me gifts, blessings that would fill a book. A life full of hope, love and peace. No longer useless but useful.
Today I owe my life to Jesus for I know He gently spoke to me that night. Without Him I have nothing, I am nothing. In all of this the Gideons supplied the Bible that had been placed in that cell in the hope that lost souls would read the Word of the Lord and so too become found. Thank you Gideons, your work in prisons does make a difference. I’m proof.
Andy
Leicestershire
This true story is used here by permission of Andy, and the Gideons.
A few days later I was taken from the segregation unit and returned to one of the wings. The Chaplain came on the wing and I asked to see him. He was a bit wary of me as some weeks previously I’d been a bit unpleasant. I told him what had happened. He asked if I would be going to church on Sunday and I said yes. Come Sunday, I went to the front and gave my life to Jesus at the altar.
Years later now, my life in Christ is unrecognisable from the lost soul I was in that segregation cell. Not only has God transformed me, He has given me gifts, blessings that would fill a book. A life full of hope, love and peace. No longer useless but useful.
Today I owe my life to Jesus for I know He gently spoke to me that night. Without Him I have nothing, I am nothing. In all of this the Gideons supplied the Bible that had been placed in that cell in the hope that lost souls would read the Word of the Lord and so too become found. Thank you Gideons, your work in prisons does make a difference. I’m proof.
Andy
Leicestershire
This true story is used here by permission of Andy, and the Gideons.
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