He could not change what he had done

He pushed the door and looked into the chapel, there was an old man in a crumpled coat playing a battered organ. Dotted around the pews were a handful of people trying to sing in time with the music but failing badly. The door creaked as he pushed it shut but no one turned around, he slid into the back row and picked up the hymn book. He asked himself for the umpteenth time why was he here, he hadn't been inside a place of worship since he was a boy

Then, he had been intrigued by the sounds and smells of the dark, gloomy building. He had no idea what was going on but somehow, in his young chaotic life, he found the slow formality of the service somehow reassuring. He only really went to get away from the violence of his home, this was his safe place in a dangerous childhood. He had sat in the same pew he now occupied, the smell of the varnished wood transporting him back the four decades. He remembered the sweetly smelling ladies who would approach him and a couple of other kids at the end of the service to see if they wanted a cup of squash and a biscuit. He always said yes even though the squash was so weak it was little more than dyed water

The ladies were kind to him and always asked him if he was coming the next week. His answer was always the same, he would be there if he could but wasn't sure. He never knew what home would be like from one day to the next, he couldn't be sure if there would be marks on his face that would prevent him from going out. Over the months his attendance at chapel decreased as the frequency of the marks increased, soon he stopped going all together

The hymn came to the end, the crumpled old man got up from the organ and slowly climbed into the pulpit and announced the reading. Hebrews chapter twelve, verses fourteen to seventeen. He had no Bible to look at, not that having a book would have helped as he couldn't read very well. And even if he could read, he had no idea what or where Hebrews was, he wouldn't have wanted to embarrass himself by asking for help 

He listened as the old man began to speak, he didn't really understand what the talk was all about. He relaxed into the hard pew and tried to concentrate on what was being said. His mind began to wander as the words went on and on and the radiators pushed out their heat, his eyes began to close, and he tried desperately to stay awake. After around thirty minutes he could take it no longer, he quietly got up and pulled open the creaking door and walked out into the cold winter's morning

He walked across the road and sat down on a bench facing a small park. It was cold but his thick, heavy overcoat kept in some of the warmth from the chapel. His mind wandered back again to when he was younger, this time he wasn't eight but eighteen. He had sat on this bench alone and frightened. His mother had walked out, no longer willing to face his father's drunken rages. He couldn't blame her except she had not taken him with her, he was left alone with his father. He had lasted only three weeks before it came to a head, his father had bought yet another bottle and watched the football. His team had conceded two goals in the last ten minutes and the rage returned. The punches and kicks landed leaving not just marks but broken bones and finally a broken heart. He left never to return

He looked up from the bench and saw an old couple arm in arm, coming towards him. They looked happy and content being together as they enjoyed the winter sun. He recognised the crumpled coat from the chapel and looked away not wanting to engage in conversation. However, the couple came closer and walked up to him. An hour later he was sat at their dining room table tucking into a plate of roast beef and all the trimmings. He found out that the old couple had retired to the area around twenty years ago and that gradually they had found themselves doing almost everything in the chapel. Over the years the older members of the congregation had died or were moved by their children into homes. As numbers dropped this couple took on more and more until eventually there was virtually no one else who could help

After the meal, sat in a cosy sitting room drinking coffee, he told them more of his story. After leaving home he drifted from street to street, sometimes sleeping rough other times, when his luck was in, he got a bed in a hostel. Unable to find work, unable to find a home, unable to find anything at all really, his life drifted into a frightening place. The booze inevitably became drugs and the drugs stole any perspective that he might have had

As the afternoon went on, the couple continued to listen to his sad story. They were good listeners, they only spoke to clarify certain points or to encourage him to continue. They were genuinely interested in not only hearing but understanding the details of his life. Even as the story got harder to tell he did not feel judged or condemned, but rather that they inexplicably accepted him for who he was. But more than that, they seemed to believe that he had a future, that his life was not over

The old man got up to switch on more lights and to pull the curtains. The afternoon was turning colder and darker, and his story was running in the same direction. As he continued the story, he became slower and slower, large gaps appeared between sentences. He told the old couple that he had got involved with a gang, that he started carrying drugs but ended up being the fixer for a small-time gang boss. Suddenly as the clock approached five, he jumped up, grabbed his thick coat, thanked them for the meal, opened the door and hurried out into the street and was gone 

The following Sunday, on their way to chapel, the old couple wondered whether he would return. They talked at length about his sad story and hoped that they would have the chance to see him again. During the service they kept their eyes and ears opened, but the door didn't creek. The old man preached again but didn't see the door open although he did see a shadow through the frosted rear window. He lost his train of thought and began to mumble bits of his sermon, nothing very unusual there but his wife noticed and understood

Four weeks passed until he was seen again, but this time was not in chapel but in a doorway with his thick coat pulled around him. The old couple were out shopping one cold afternoon when they saw a bundle in the doorway. The would have walked past but recognised the thick coat and soon were talking with him and again insisting that he come home for a meal. It took them longer this time to convince him but as the temperature dropped and the thought of a hot meal remained stubbornly in the front of his mind, he agreed

As he walked back to the couple's home, he tried to unpick the reason for accepting their invitation. For years since being let out he kept away from any kindness, preferring to keep others at a distance. The last person he had got close to, ended up, well, he pushed the thought from his mind. They were different, not like others who had tried to show him concern, but always looked down on him. They accepted him as an equal and seemed genuinely pleased to have him in their company. To them he was not a project that needed to be risk assessed, budgeted for and written up. But rather a brother, an uncle, a son who they wanted to be part of their family

He woke up suddenly, the room was dark but still vaguely warm. There was a faint glow in the grate as the embers tried to hang onto life but were gradually failing. He was slumped on the settee with a soft, woollen blanket covering him, his mind investigated the situation and he began to piece things together in his mind. Last night he had told them everything; the hit, the arrest, the court case, the sentence and finally the years in prison. They had listened without commenting, but their faces had encouraged him to tell the full story. Their eyes had welled up in tears as he talked of the beatings, the solitary confinement, the fear and finally the rapes. He told them of his feelings of disgust, his self-harm and his suicide attempts. He let it all pour forth, he held nothing back

This time he didn't get up before he had finished, he sat quietly waiting for their reaction. They both were silent for a few minutes, the clock ticking in the corner. Slowly and with great tenderness the old couple began to tell him of the forgiveness and reconciliation that could be found in Christ. They explained simply but clearly how God's purpose for him was to know Jesus and to commit his life to him wholeheartedly. As they talked, he understood very little but in a strange way, he realised that how he responded was to be the defining point of his life. He was stood at a cross road and the direction he now followed would affect everything

The winter gradually withdrew to make way for the spring, the seasons rolled into years and his life changed. The warm wind blew the curtains and knocked quietly against the window. He gradually woke and turned over and felt the warmth of his wife lying next to him. She sighed slightly and turned to face him, he kissed her gently before their bedroom door burst open and two bundles of life landed on their bed. A boy and girl both with their mother's look, giggling they snuggled up to mummy and daddy in bed. He pretended to snore loudly, and they tried to tickle him awake, eventually he picked them both up and took them downstairs and found breakfast

Later that day he gazed down from the pulpit, dozens of faces looked back at him. Many had been where he had been but now had found their lives transformed. He looked to the battered organ pushed away at the back of the chapel, how he missed the old couple who had made such an impact on his life. So much had changed over the years, he could hardly recognise himself. His family were on the front row, they had gradually got used to dad being the church pastor and they loved the chaotic community that had grown around them

The congregation began to sing the great Charles Wesley hymn, And Can It Be. He found tears welling up in his eyes as he sang these words:

My chains fell off, my heart was free

I rose, went forth and followed thee

So accurately did the words describe how he felt that he thought that they could have been written just for him. As the hymn finished, he led those gathered in repeating these words over and over again. The singing rose to a crescendo as many of the broken and damaged realised afresh that their past had been dealt with. The singing became quiet and finally finished with many wiping tears from their eyes

He announced his text, Hebrews chapter twelve. Unlike all those years ago, he knew that Hebrews was a letter in the Bible that had been written to Jewish Christians. He found it and read the passage, explaining the implications of rejecting God's love and grace. He spoke the language of ordinary people; the congregation knew of his past and loved him anyway. He was an example of how people could have their lives put back together. If only the old couple could see him now, they would be so proud of him, recognising their small part in God's plan for his life

The door creaked and he looked up, he had purposely not oiled the hinges. He wanted to be reminded of his visit to the chapel all those years ago when he first met the old couple. Over the years, the door had creaked many times during the meetings when the lost and the lonely had come looking for help. One of the congregation would always get up and sensitively welcome the guest, the chapel called them guests not visitors. Each one would be drawn into the community and invited to eat at one of the homes. The man who came in was a similar age to him and looked vaguely familiar, he wasn't surprised as he met lots of people during his work on the streets

He continued with his sermon but kept an eye on the new guest, he planned to get his family to invite the man home at the end of the service. They always prepared extra food for Sunday lunch, never knowing who would be invited home with them. As his sermon began to draw to a close, he noticed that the guest began to get agitated. This did sometimes happen as the need for a fix overcame their desire to not cause a scene. But this was different, the man was looking round anxiously, and then staring at him with real hatred. He was tapping his hand on the back of the seat in front, getting louder and more frequent. Suddenly the man jumped up and started walking towards the pulpit screaming at the top of his voice. "You f****** bastard, how can you stand there speaking of love.'" The congregation looked stunned, he looked down from the pulpit wondering what was going on. "You destroyed my life you sh*t, and you don't even know who I am!"

The man jumped up onto the stage and climbed the steps of the pulpit screaming obscenities and attacked John who stood there speechless and motionless. The blows landed without being parried and the spittle and snot from the man landed on his face. He was like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth. Two or three of the younger men in the congregation jumped up and pulled the man off their pastor. They firmly but carefully man-handled the man out of the pulpit, off the stage and down the aisle towards the door of the chapel

As he was dragged away, John looked down on the man he had beaten and raped almost daily over a period of more than a year. He glanced at the open Bible and read, 'See that no one is sexually immoral, or is godless like Esau, who for a single meal sold his inheritance rights as the oldest son. Afterward, as you know, when he wanted to inherit this blessing, he was rejected. Even though he sought the blessing with tears, he could not change what he had done.'