Why I Am A Christian

Up until a couple of generations ago, everybody in Britain was, if not a committed disciple of Christ, at least a church-goer. I was born in the early 1950s in Northern Ireland, and whereas my family were not what you would call 'religious', we were regular church-goers. Christianity was part of the fabric of everyday life.

This is no longer the case for a substantial portion of the population. I know many people who would never darken the door of a church unless they were going to a wedding or a funeral. To be honest, had it not been for a particular turn of events, I would probably be one of them!

In my early teens I rejected the faith of my fathers. From what I experienced of it, it seemed to me that it was only a matter of outward observance, but there was no substance to it, no reality behind the facade. I can't say that I became an atheist. I don't think that I ever went that far. I would have called myself an agnostic, in that I didn't know, and I didn't know that it was possible to know, if there actually was a god.

As I was going through the transition from boyhood to manhood, I began to think seriously about what life might mean. I began to search for the truth - whatever the truth might be. I was convinced that there was something out there, but I did not know what it was. I just knew that there had to be something more than whatever I was aware of through my five senses.

I lived for a few years in Croydon, south London, where there was a very good bookshop. I began to read all sorts of things, including psychology, psychiatry (because I knew I was a crazy, mixed-up kid!), and even astrology, magic, and other occult subjects. I didn't think that what I was looking for was to be found under the heading of 'religion', so I was looking elsewhere.

During this time I was also suffering from bouts of debilitating depression. This had been brought on by drug abuse in my teens, but was exascerbated by opening myself up to the influence of the dark spirits behind the occultism that I was investigating. Things were getting so bad for me that on more than one occasion I seriously considered putting an end to myself. There were times when I could not bear to take another breath, to go on living for another moment.

But there was something in me that kept me going, that did not allow me to die.

One evening, in my desperation, I cried out, "If there's anybody out there who can hear me, please help me!" At that moment there was no answer. In fact, for the next few months it seemed to me that nothing was happening. But something was happening. Someone had heard my cry for help.

As 1976 drew to a close I had the irresistable urge to leave Croydon and return to Northern Ireland. Shortly after my return, I renewed my acquiantance with an old school friend, Allister. Allister had become a Christian, and we spent many an hour discussing, debating, and disagreeing. However, his influence brought me to the point where I was ready to acknowledge that there might be something more to Christianity than what I had known as a child.

One Wednesday evening, as I walked home from a meeting with Allister and a few other young people, with one of those unbearable depressions weighing down heavily upon me, I came to the point where I said to myself, "You've tried everything else, and nothing has done you any good. What have you got to lose by trying Jesus?"

So I cried out to Jesus and asked him to help me.

It's hard to describe what happened next. All I can say is that I felt as if I were in a quicksand, sinking, and that someone had thrown me a rope. I had taken hold of the rope and was trying to pull myself out. Then someone spoke to me - not in audible words, but in what I would call an inner knowing - telling me not to try to pull myself out, but to allow him to pull me out. Somehow I understood this and was able to stop trying and start trusting.

Within a few minutes I was almost running down that road shouting, "I accept and acknowledge Jesus Christ as my only Lord and Master!" My new journey had begun.

So this is why I am a Christian. In my hour of greatest need I cried for help, and the one who answered me was Jesus. Allah did not reach out to me; no Hindu god reached out to me; Buddah did not reach out to me; but my voice was not ignored, as it would have been if what the atheists say is true.

Jesus Christ reached out to me. He gave me hope. He gave me a second chance. He saved me.

That is why I am a Christian.