I am a 39 year-old man walking in the Lord. I've given my trust to him, though not for the first time.

I was born and bred in Glasgow, Scotland. When I was 17 years old I moved to Port Seton on the coast of Edinburgh to my dad's caravan. The idea worked for a while until I got to know the local drug dealers. I was in a prime position on the caravan site to sell dope to the locals as well as the holidaymakers. I was offered a lovely flat nearby in Portobello, rent free as long as I continued to sell dope for one of the local dealers. Eventually one thing led to another; after numerous bad encounters, I fell out with the local dealer. I continued to live in his luxury flat. But unknown to me, he wanted me out. I couldn't afford to buy an amount of dope myself so he offered to pay half. I accepted, thinking, business is business - it didn't matter that we didn't like each other. I arrived at the campsite with a pocket full of deals, on a mission to continue my image of best dealer and my so-called popularity. To my surprise, and naivety, the local C.I.D. where waiting for me, dressed in plain clothes trying to blend in as holiday makers. I knew they were out of place but it was too late. They saw me and by the description they were given, had no doubt they had their man. I was arrested, my luxury flat was searched, and to my horror, and they found several ounces of cannabis and the antique scales I'd bought to keep up my image.

The reality of it really hit home when I was released on bail. The locks were changed on the flat door, and there was a written warning on the door not to even attempt entering the flat, that my belongings would be accessible through the local police station. Basically I'd lost all my possessions. There were people renting my dad's caravan so I was left out in the cold with nowhere to live, not even a change of clothes. With the worry of the charges I rang my parents. I returned to Glasgow returning worse than when I'd left. My dad helped me to get my life back in order. I found a job, a girlfriend, made new friends, though I still had the outstanding charges of dealing cannabis. I waited two years until the court appearance. Then sentencing day came. I'd turned 19, kept out of trouble - that was my first time in trouble with police and courts. Everyone assured me that I'd be OK now I'd got onto the straight path, I was working, no more trouble, I'd even stopped taking drugs, I'd got letters of reference from work and other influences I thought might help. My dad went to court with me for moral support. We had even bought return tickets from Glasgow to Edinburgh to where I was to appear in court. To my horror I was given 18 months' prison for intent to supply cannabis. This can't be possible, I couldn't have heard him right, Not Me! Then with a court policeman on each side of me, they put me in handcuffs and led me down to the court cells to be taken to Glenochil Young Offenders to start my sentence.

Shell-shocked to say the least; I spent the first night in Saughton prison, an old Victorian prison in Edinburgh. It was a living nightmare! I cried all night - how am I going to cope. I can't do this, I'm not able. Then the next day I was off to Glenochil. Whilst there I met an old friend from school. He advised me to put my name down for church on Sunday, that there it would be possible to get some tobacco and also get a full scope of everyone from different wings of the prison. I continued to go to church for this very reason, until one Sunday I started to listen to what the minister was actually saying. I was writing poetry at the time. I'd started before I went into prison, as I was learning to play guitar. I was also very confused about life. Why were we here? Where are we heading? And how should I live my life. What the minister was saying was very similar to the poetry I was writing, my observations of life, my thoughts on what life should be like. This was so uncanny to me, as I had very little Bible background. I'd gone to Sunday school as a child but never seemed to take it in. We were sent as kids - I think just to give our parents some peace and quiet on a Sunday. Both my parents worked very hard to feed 5 children and keep us in school clothes.

Is this what I've been searching for? Is this the answer to life's great mysteries? I'd read all different philosophers and also dabbled in black magic looking for answers to my questions about life. The Bible gave me more answers to every question I had and could think of, than any other man or organisation could. It was amazing - an answer, sometimes more than one answer to all my questions, a manual to living, not just an opinion, an actual guide to living, to get the most and best out of life, and how to get the best out of other people, a true guide of "How to win friends and influence people". Without lies, hypnosis or deceit! Admittedly it's hard to get your head around all the wisdom of the Bible of God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit. Though it does say in the bible, no one can describe or picture God truly, someone who knows everything, who can be everywhere at the same time, who in fact created time, the universe, all living things, the planets, stars, the moon and sun, the earth all in perfect balance of each other. In this life I don't suppose I'll ever know all the whys or have all the answers, nor all the wisdom possible, but as long as I know enough to realise that love is the answer to most questions. The love of fellow man, woman, all life - and give the respect that's due, to love God for his mercy and grace, for opening my mind and heart to life and love, and from there comes happiness, through faith comes peace and joy. To trust in the lord, that He knows what's best for me, even when I don't, or the times when I do!

Life hasn't been perfect since. I've struggled even with my faith at times. I've backslidden as they say. Since being back to prison I've felt like a failure, that my life was over. I've made some mistakes and thought there's no return - not true. His love burns in my heart. His hope remains in my heart. Even though His flame was just a flicker at times, its still there rekindling like a pilot light waiting to be switched on again. I am now attending the Elim church where I've been welcomed whole-heatedly, no judgement for my past, only hope and help for my future. This is just a summary of my testimony. To write all of my experiences would take a book. My hope with this is that there are others out there who read this, similar situations, confused and searching for honest answers to your questions about life. To look to the bible, trust that God has your best interests at heart. He knows what's good for you, even if you don't.

Never be ashamed to admit that you're a Christian, or to get down on your bended knee to ask or just praise God for all that's good in your life. Trust in Him to do what's right, to see you through, to give you strength, courage, wisdom and hope, as we all hope. We all make mistakes - that's a part of living. Sometimes the ones who make mistakes are the ones who are really searching, the ones who are willing to do something in order to change. He is a forgiving God, but before it's too late we need to ask His forgiveness. You may feel you're in living hell now. Ask forgiveness and guidance before you may truly be in hell. There is time to make amends; God will give you this time, if you want to love and to be loved. Ask Him Now! He is the way!
 

I am from a very poor home from Delta State of Nigeria. In Benin, where I come from, 90% of the people have a shrine, both inherited ones. God is secondary to them. I grew up with serving other gods in our shrine with my parents and family. I lived a rough life with poverty showing in my family life. This got me into prostitution at an early age in Italy. I was taken there with my consent to enable me to feed my family and live a better life.

While in Italy I went through hell in the bush where we prostitutes waited for clients hiding from the police. Several times I escaped death through the grace of God. A couple of times bad boys (Mafia) carried me away with the aim of killing me, but my Lord Jesus during these times caused the two men to turn and fight with each other, leaving me in the bush. I can't write enough of what I went through during those years of prostitution. I met a man from Nigeria who promised to marry me, so we both went to Nigeria from Italy for the marriage. Unfortunately his family discovered I was once a prostitute and did not approve of it, but promised to accept the baby as I was already pregnant. I became frustrated and came to the United Kingdom in 2004 and had my daughter two months later.

After I had my baby I decided to call the father to let him know about the child. He sounded happy and said he would send his daughter from his former girlfriend to stay with me in the U.K. and he would join us later. I agreed to the idea but after his daughter's arrival he went back to Italy with another woman, then on to Germany where he lives now.

Life became unbearable, I broke the law and was arrested. My three month old daughter was taken into care. I got a solicitor to help me but instead she worked against me with my interpreter from my State in Nigeria. During the case, immigrations refused me asylum and I had to leave my house and go and live with a friend and her husband. Life became unbearable and I called upon the name of the Lord for help. I went to court, being told to expect 3 to 5 years in prison. The judge give me a 12 month's custodial sentence. The solicitor tormented me, saying I would never see my children again until they were 18 years old. The immigration solicitor worked against me too saying I had no chance and opted out. The final decision in court on May 2006 was without a solicitor representing me. I became worried and I had to turn to God as the solicitors had turned their back on me and told the judge that my asylum is weak and I should be deported since my child and step-daughter had been taken and given up for adoption. My life became shattered, and I started praying to God to show himself in my situation. There was no choice but to turn to God. I asked for forgiveness for the things I had done wrong.

On the day the Lord visited me in my cell. It was like a dream which I will never forget. I was about to go to sleep, I turned my television off and knelt down to pray. I was turned around as I knelt - this made me jump up in fear. I continued with my prayer, and as I did I was spun around again, this time several times. I opened my eyes full of fear, and behold I saw the whole room which had been dark, turn to the brightest light I had ever seen in my life. I ran out to Maria's room upstairs to tell her what had happened. I was so scared I cried like a child. I realised that despite my dirty and rugged life and background, God cared and loved me by showing himself to me. I became aware that God is real and lives, since He appeared that day. Another night I put off the television and light and slept, but as I woke up I saw a shining star on my television although the television was turned off. I wanted to shout but could not. Instead I went back to sleep peacefully. Just a few days ago I felt my hand being lifted up slightly and soothingly. I said thank you Jesus and slept very well.

The message I want to pass across to my fellow inmates is that God is real and loves us the way we are if we take everything to him in prayer. What everyone thinks is impossible, with God is possible provided you believe He can do it. God didn't look at my person but my heart for change to serve Him, and also complete surrender of all my situations into His hands.

I will be released on August 29th, and to our surprise, a letter from the Home Office arrived directly to the prison saying that I should be released back to the refugee camp on that same day. This was the same Home Office that refused me asylum and threatened me several times to send me back to Nigeria without my children on release. All I have been doing since the crisis is talking to God for divine intervention and that He should turn my situation around. Almighty God has done this for me and I WILL SERVE HIM. ALL THE REST OF MY LIFE, AMEN.

Please lift me up in prayer to be able to serve God diligently with all my heart, as I cannot do this without His help. I also want God to strengthen me to resist men when I get out, as I want God to give me my own man that I can marry, and I want to reserve myself and the Spirit of God to dwell in me.

Through me God directed a church to start a course on understanding wealth. The course lasted 9 months. I had to leave my house at 6 a.m. on Saturdays to resume at 6.45 a.m. in the church auditorium. The church ministers and pastors slept in the church because they lived far away. God done all this for me, but still not surrendering all to Him. God can't be mocked or deceived. He is not a man and nothing can be hidden from Him. I got put in prison on 11th March 2005 and was very disappointed that God allowed me to be in this situation. Though a good Christian, He had warned me in my dream, spoken through men of God in the church. If I had left how the children would go to school abroad to Him, I would not be in prison today. I used to say that God would understand because my children didn't have a father - that He would bear with me when I tried to make money any way to enable to pay the school fees for them.

God ministered to me in different ways but I was not bold enough to surrender or take the step of faith. I knew what I was doing was not right, but I turned deaf ears and blocked my mind to His warnings. God wanted me not to have anything to do with that way because of His love for me. He had to permit me to be imprisoned for His purpose for my life to be fulfilled. He planned to give us a new beginning with a new purpose and turn us into new people. In times of trouble like this, it appears as if He has forgotten us, but God is preparing us as He did with the people of Judah for a new beginning with Him. Awesome mighty God. While in prison I thought it was all over for me. My children alone in Nigeria got me worried - who would look after them like me? I do not have a family that would help in any way, and that got me scared. My partner's family sent them out into the street. I became more worried as they had never worked before and they had no accommodation. Nigeria is not like here or America where you can do menial jobs and go to school. I am in a position where I can do nothing but depend on Him totally. What I am doing now is what He expected of me, but I was too stubborn and He had to use this drastic way to turn my heart into flesh and be obedient. Every other way I love my God to bits as He sees my heart and knows my history. It is His love that has kept me and my children alive, and now I wonder, what was my problem back then? Now I can see all the MY, MY, ME, ME, ME, I, I, I, was not of God. If not for His genuine love for me I would have been left to swim in my iniquity and end up in hell. Those He loves He chastises, then prunes, and if no change then comes the spiritual and physical death. Coming to prison has opened my eyes. You can change, because God is a God of second chances.

What can be said about a vivacious sixteen-month old baby girl who was murdered? What she would have become, what she would have accomplished in life, will never be known. She never had a chance to see any dreams come true in life, because she died at such an innocent age. Are there answers to such tragedies? Everything in paradise wasn't what it appeared to be. Even though I attended church spasmodically, I didn't follow the Bible's principles and I certainly wasn't a responsible parent, by any stretch of the imagination. Looking back, I guess I loved my wife and kids as much as I could, in light of the serious character flaws I had. But they deserved so much more than I could give! I started drinking Canadian Dry Gin when I was five years old. From then on my drinking only accelerated until I would spin totally out of control. The alcohol was a numbing friend who helped me forget the horrible memories that I didn't want to face. One memory especially that was a daily reality for me was trying to cope with being sexually abused from the age of three until I was ten by a string of people: Family, foster family and neighbours. Those memories hung around my conscience like a cheap pearl necklace which I despised wearing. It was an unwanted gift given to me by my abusers and I grew up swearing I'd get even. Having been an unwanted child, I ventured through a half dozen foster homes until I entered the U.S. Army at seventeen as an infantryman. By then, in 1980, the die was cast, and I was a hopeless mess, loosed upon society. I saw everyone and everything as prey, as something to hurt, for hurting me. To use the words of my Company Commander when he notified me of my dishonourable discharge from service while in Germany for fighting all the time, "Tom, we need your type in war time, not peacetime." With that another disastrous chapter in my life had concluded. Just a year into our marriage, Sharon and I were falling apart, though she tried the best she could to save our marriage (and me) -- God bless her. In every outward way, I was a man, but, inwardly, I was a tangled mess and a very, very, angry child. In the summer of 1988, whatever life I had, and whatever family or friends I had, were all taken away from me. After a heated argument with Sharon, I stormed out of the door, drunk. I continued to drink until I had so bathed my senses in alcohol, I decided to walk into a hotel and rob it. I was bent on taking back the control that I desperately wanted over my own life. My violent and deplorable crime of assaulting someone and robbing the establishment didn't solve my problems. Subsequently, my irrational character came completely unravelled. A year later I went to prison for Armed Robbery and Assault. I spent a year in the county jail with my head facing the ground in shame. My eyes were sunken into a face overwhelmed by disgrace. Not just because my own life was shattered, but because of the humiliation that my wife, children, friends and family members were forced to endure because of me. On top of all that, I had victimised another person by committing a felony. Suicide was a constant option which I seriously considered for a while. Realising an act of that nature would heap more pain upon my family, I resisted the temptation, though it loitered around in the back of my mind. The only time life entered me was when I saw my children through a Plexiglas window in the visiting room at the jail. With her lips pressed against the window. On those moments her gaze brought love to a heart that was ripped to pieces. There wasn't a success story in my life. I had failed so miserably at everything I had ever done. Even the prosecutor at my sentencing told the Judge, "Your Honour, he can't even steal successfully." Of all my failures, the worst was to my wife and children. The realisation that I had left behind in the wake of my life countless victims compounded my grief. As the prison doors slammed behind me, I felt like a paratrooper with a tank strapped to my back, speeding towards a fast-approaching earth. The prison chaplain called me into his office on December 27, 1989, just two days after Christmas. With his eyes visibly moist and his voice cracking from compassion, he told me that my daughter Tamara had passed away the day before. I could take no more. My bundle of joy and the only reason to live was gone! What burst forth from my inner being was a sorrow which can only really be known by a parent (even one who has failed as a parent) whose child had died. Grief and pain erupted in uncontrollable sobs and heaves, which left my body convulsing in the chair. My pain was so overwhelming, I thought at any moment the arms of the grave would tear through the floor and swallow me whole. To me, my life, and especially myself epitomised all that failure and shame meant. I blamed myself for the death of my daughter because I had gone to prison in the first place. I wasn't there to protect her and I wasn't the kind of father she had deserved. For weeks I cried uncontrollably, when no one was present, and I was always on the verge of tears when they were around. Several times a day I would fall upon the ground in my cell, look up to heaven, and beg my daughter's forgiveness, hoping she was there. I believed, even in the twisted condition I was in, that if there was a God, He would take care of such an innocent one, who never possessed the reins of freewill, and grant her entrance into Heaven. I don't know what kept me going those weeks after Tamara died. Perhaps it was the desire to find answers about where she was. I had read books about other parents who had lost a child to death. But, even in those testimonies, I couldn't find any answers or comfort. I had a double dose of grief. Not just the pain of losing a child, but bearing the responsibility for preventing her death formed a compound grief which cut deeper than any other traumatic event could have. I struggled to gain information about the circumstances which surrounded Tamara's death, because few people are willing to give a convict any information. Then the mystery was cleared up when local state-wide T.V. stations and newspapers carried the news event. A man had been arrested and charged with murder in the suffocation of my daughter, Tamara! The man who suffocated Tamara had been hired by my wife to watch the children, and he had a long track record of mental illness which she wasn't aware of. He later confessed that he wanted my wife to think he was a hero. He told the police if he could suffocate my daughter, then revive her by mouth-to-mouth, then my wife would fall in love with him. However, when he couldn't revive her, the paramedics were called and they couldn't bring her back to life. Now, I had a reason for living again - to find and kill the man who had murdered my daughter. I spent hundreds of dollars buying resources to try to escape from the maximum security prison I was in. Then I planned to break into the prison he was kept in, and kill him. In all honesty, I planned his death with cruel vengeance in a thousand different ways - always slow, and always reminding him, while I was inflicting upon him my idea of justice, who he had taken from me. My life was being fuelled by a cavalcade of hate and wounded emotions. But as months passed, in agonising misery, God was working all the while within me. A Christian man, who knew me and heard of Tamara's death, planted the first seeds of hope that would be the beginning of my healing process. He shared with me 1 Thessalonians 4 v.13-18. Those verses promise that, when Jesus Christ returns to the earth, we will be reunited with our loved ones again who have died and gone to Heaven to be with Him. When he read these Bible promises to me, tears flowed like never before. I wept and wept. But they were tears of hope, not of despair. I smiled for the first time in over a year, at the first flickering hope of seeing Tamara again some day. With tears streaming down my face, I thanked God for doing what I had failed to do: For taking care of Tamara and for taking her to Heaven to be with Him, safe from all harm. For days and days, I walked around my cell laughing and crying in joyfulness over God's promise to bring her back when He returned. I don't know if at that moment I became a Christian or not, though I did believe in God at that point. It was a time when I first began to take personal inventory of all that I had done in life, and face responsibility for my actions, without placing blame on anyone but myself. In my heart, I sensed that I needed to forgive all those who had sexually abused me as a child, my own parents for abandoning both me and my brother Bo Bo, foster parents, and the man who killed my daughter. That last one, though, was the hardest of them all. In doing so, I could finally move forward to whatever lay ahead with some resemblance of hope. I needed healing in the deepest part of my being, though, as it related to Tamara I never had the chance to go to my daughter's funeral, or say good-bye, and that haunted me. The tiny, glossy white casket she was buried in was the shrine that held my love, and my heart was clawing to go to it and say good-bye. The evangelist who would bring the healing balm to my life came from an unlikely, but perfect source: Tamara would once again act as a dispenser of Heaven's grace for me! Late one night, not long after I had decided to forgive the man who killed her and everyone who ever hurt me, I asked God for two favours, if He didn't mind. First, I asked Him, "Lord, would you please give Tamara a message for me? Would you please tell her I'm so sorry for failing her, for abandoning her, and for not being a good daddy to her? And would you ask her if she could find it in her heart to forgive me?" I went to bed that night thinking about Tamara, and asked Jesus to bless her and I fell asleep. Sometime that night, whether in a dream, or awake, I don't know, I only know that I saw Tamara surrounded by bright, beautiful angels and by saints who had died and gone to Heaven. They were crowding around Tamara, waiting to see her. Her conquistador manner of giggling was drawing a crowd of people who seemed to be thrilled with the newest arrival to Heaven's family. Everyone around her was laughing and listening to her giggle. I can't wait to join in on the party that will be thrown for every child of God and parent who were separated in this world by the crushing blow of death! Then, Tamara appeared just several feet in front of me. Yet, we were separated by a clear golden, glowing transparent sheet of glass; it was beautiful - like molten hot gold, yet clear as crystal. Tamara did not have on ordinary clothes. She was aglow with brilliant soft light all around her body,

all the way down to her tiny golden ankles. She was the same height as she had been when she died. Only the aura in her face was beaming with absolute intelligence. She packed (as all children do in Heaven), in her gentle stare, a punch of knowledge that humans will never attain to in this world. The greatest genius on this earth will be considered ignorant compared to the knowledge of a child in Heaven. I was filled with that understanding as I watch children talk knowledgeably to each other about the universe. Tamara then placed her hands upon the golden sheet of glass that separated us, and with her nose pressed up against the glass (just like she used to do in the county jail when visiting with me), looked at me with her gentle, caring eyes, that were deeper than all roses, and said, "Hi, Daddy. I love you and I forgive you." At that moment I found myself kneeling in the middle of my cell floor, with my hands covering my face,

as tears flowed abundantly. How could I ever thank God and Tamara enough for the mercy and love extended to such a man as me, who had become such a great success at failing? I've never shed a tear of shame since. Christ's and my daughter's forgiveness have healed all the shame and bitterness I had. Yes, there are times when I cry. But, they are never because of sorrow. They are tears of joy in the warm memories I have of her, and the thrilling hope of being reunited with her one day soon. I've heard many preachers over the years, but it wasn't until Heaven's tiniest evangelist preached Heaven's theme of love to a sinner like me, that I really come to the reality of God, and eternity. Our love for each other is a sacred flame burning within which fuels my desire to move on, even when life can make that difficult to do at times. But knowing that my daughter watches from above, I know she would want me to do the best job I can in pressing on. We've got a reunion to enjoy in the future. A lot has been said about God, Heaven, angels, and redemption. I think the greatest case for Heaven's existence can be made, not in the hostile words over doctrines, and angry word of opinions, but, in the countless lives throughout history that have been changed by messengers sent to earth on a mission of good will for the "poor in spirit." My daughter was the only evangelist who ever got through to me. The rest of theology I will leave to those more righteous than I, to preach its complexity. Tamara's message is God's message. It's one which transforms lives, fills empty hearts with love and gives purpose to living.

To Love Yourself? ...Read Matthew 22 v.34:40 (NIV)

Jesus said, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind." This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: "Love your neighbour as yourself." Matthew 22 37-39

As I looked back over my life, I saw that insecurities had haunted me ever since high school. The problems growing from this had caused many of my relationships to shrivel and die.

Finally I prayed, "Lord what should I do? I am tired of loved ones running away from me. Teach me to love myself so that I can love others." During my morning devotion, the Spirit directed me to Matthew 22 v.34-40, with its caution first to love God and then to love your neighbour as myself. The way to love myself became crystal clear - begin by loving God first. If I sought God first, then everything else would be added to me.

Through seeking God I came to realise that I am God's child and that it is okay for me to love myself, despite my sins and faults. God removed the scales that blinded me. Learning to love myself triggered my ability to see people in a positive light. The love of God began moving within me and allowed me to become more tolerant of others. In Matthew's words God gives us the blueprint for righteous - and joyful - living.

Prayer:
Loving God, thank you for teaching us to love you first, then ourselves, so that we can love others, Amen

Thought for the day:
Once we learn to love ourselves, loving others becomes possible.

"Dear Father, I know that I am a sinner and that I need forgiveness. I believe that Jesus died for my sins. I. am willing to turn away from my sin and now I invite Jesus to come into my heart and life as my personal Saviour. I am willing by God's Grace into follow and obey Christ as Lord of my life."