I was born in Leeds, a large city in the north of England. My parents were Roman Catholic and brought me up within the confines of the Catholic Church. In my teenage years, I became convinced of my own hypocrisy in dressing up in my Sunday best and going through the weekly ritual for less than one hour each week. Meanwhile, the rest of my life was given over to keeping up with the peer pressure of my fellow teens. That meant being accepted with the in-crowd and doing what everyone else was advocating, including experimentation with marijuana, consuming large quantities of alcohol, involvement in violent fights and other forms of blatant sin. When I reached the age of 18, my father no longer insisted on my attendance at Mass, and I was relieved to put an end to the hypocrisy. There were now no restraints whatsoever to cramp my style.
When I was 21 years of age, I changed jobs and began to work in the offices of a power plant in the city of Leeds. From the very start I became very attracted to a beautiful young girl in the office. The attraction was not purely physical, however. There was a peace and serenity about this girl that really made her quite outstanding. She had a peace that I wanted myself.
I determined that she would go out with me, so I asked her. The reply was a real blow to my ego; she didn’t want to have anything to do with me. However, I was not one to give up easily, so I hatched a plan. I knew she was an Irish girl and since the Southern Irish are 94.6% Catholic, I assumed she would also be RC. I asked her where she attended church, assuming she would answer, “St. Pat’s” or “St. Mary’s,” and it would give us some common ground to build on.
To my surprise, she told me she went to an evangelical church. I had never even heard that term before, and asked what they did at such a church. Her reply was, “We believe the Bible to be the Word of God and base all we do on the teaching of that book.”
I was amazed to find someone who actually believed the Bible in the Twentieth Century! I mean, surely it has been proven to be wrong. I told her my thoughts, to which she replied with a simple question, “Have you ever read it?”
How foolish of me to dismiss as rubbish a book I had never read. She suggested that I read it first and then pass judgment on it.
I set out reading the Bible, beginning at Genesis 1:1, with one object in view. I would prove this girl wrong. Each evening I would read five or six chapters and write questions down which I would ask her about the following day at work. “How can someone be 969 years old?” would be a sample question. She always had a good and sensible answer for me, and over a period of time, I began to have doubts about my doubts.
I progressed as far as Leviticus, where I began to get bogged down–blood everywhere–and I didn’t know what was going on. She suggested I should read from the Gospel of John, which I proceeded to do.
At last I arrived at John 3:16. What an impact this verse had on me. I had never seen or heard of it before. “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” Well, wasn’t I a part of the world? So God loved me that much that He would give His Son to die for me on the cross!
My response to this amazing truth was colored very much by my Catholic heritage. I must somehow respond to this love, and I would. I would turn over a new leaf, start changing my ways, and live a good life to please the One that loved me.
The tragedy was that I could not do it; the harder I tried, the worse I became. My actions may have been tamer, but my thought-life was a cesspool.
Still persistently, I would ask for a date. “Why not let me take you out for a nice pub lunch?” I would inquire. The answer came back as usual. It would be an emphatic “NO!”
But one day, perhaps tired of saying no, Anne-Marie gave me a book to read by Josh McDowell, the apologist. Called “Givers, Takers, and other Kinds of Lovers,” it described the Bible’s position on love, courtship, and marriage. If nothing else would deter my advances, surely this would!
The book did have an impact on me. It showed me clearly what God demanded of my life, and also revealed how far short I had fallen from His standard: “For by the law is the knowledge of sin” (Rom. 3:20). His Word said one thing, and I had done the opposite. I became convinced that God had every right to send me to hell and that there was nothing I could say in my defense. I was guilty and I knew it.
I began to lose sleep, so aware of the serious mess that I was in. But I continued to read the book Anne-Marie had given me, and at the end of the book I was thrilled to read that Christ knew all about my life, but He still loved me and had died in my place to take upon Himself the punishment I deserved.
What relief! All I had to do was to trust in Him and the work He had done for me. That night, June 16, 1981, I knelt down at the side of my bed and thanked the Lord Jesus Christ for dying for me.
The following day, I went in to work and explained what had happened. Anne-Marie was skeptical. Was this another ploy by me to get her to agree to go out with me? However, in time she saw a change taking place in my life, and eventually we began to date.
In October of 1982, we were married. I thank the Lord for an uncompromising woman, who adorned the gospel so beautifully each day at work. Most of all, I am so thankful for the wonderful grace of Jesus, greater than all my sin!
Beautiful Feet
How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion, thy God reigneth! (Isa. 52:7).
Beautiful feet of my beautiful Saviour,
Washed in the tears of a poor woman’s cry,
Moved by His wonderful love and compassion,
Accepting the worship of sinners brought nigh;
Nigh to the Father He wants so to bring us,
Making the sinner now totally meet,
Washed white as snow in the blood of redemption,
Worthy to bow at His beautiful feet.
Beautiful feet of my beautiful Saviour,
Walking the pathway to Calvary’s hill,
Knowing the suffering that lay on before Him,
Wanting to do only His Father’s will.
On dark Golgotha, ’twas there I met Him,
Only my sin the dear Saviour to greet,
My sin caused His agony, suffering, and sorrow,
My sin drove the nails through His beautiful feet.
Beautiful feet that carry the gospel,
Bringing sweet peace with the Father above;
Telling to those lost and dying around us
Wonderful news of the great Saviour’s love.
Help us, our God, to be willing and faithful,
That we might there in eternity meet
Those who have told of our wonderful Saviour,
As we bow low at His beautiful feet.
–Art Auld