BRIAN GEMMELL

Having been brought up in an evangelical Christian home, I had familiarity with the basic truth of the Gospel and an underlying “fear” of God, but no real and living experience of the Lord in my life, despite having “gone forward” at a well-intention meeting in Scotland. Leaving home for university in the late 1960's was the ideal opportunity for me to escape the restrictions of my upbringing and I plunged into the ways of the world enthusiastically, made many new friends and steered well-clear of the Christian Union! As I became part of the political scene at the University of Strathclyde during the era of Vietnam War demonstrations and subsequent growth of the “Student Left” I was soon confronted with the choice of political "Right or Left"...I chose the Right. Through an odd combination of circumstances I was recruited by one of the official British Intelligence Agencies to infiltrate “Left Organisations” in Glasgow, and I eventually found myself part of the Irish Solidarity Campaign, a fundraising and support group for the Provisional IRA, operating in the west of Scotland. I was by now 20 years of age.
 
Despite a good flow of funds, a merry social life and a secret and somewhat exciting “other side” to my life, I was unhappy, desperately unhappy, unfulfilled and above all, guilty. The flat I shared with two good friends was an immoral den, my life comprised of so much lying and deceit and I felt empty and worthless. One Sunday evening I made a foray to a church, St Georges Tron, a large evangelical church in central Glasgow. The message that night, preached by the resident minister, George Duncan, was entitled “The Gospel According to Christ's Enemies” and spoke to me very directly. Seated in the gallery, I felt at one point that everyone and everything around me went out of focus, and that George Duncan was speaking directly to me. I was impressed but undecided, going back to my flat pensive and wondering that there may be a God after all.
 
A few months later, during the summer vacation I obtained a temporary job assisting with the care of an elderly English gentleman, Sir Clive Milnes-Coates, who was recovering after major surgery. One of my tasks was to take Sir Clive in his wheelchair around the beautiful acre of garden at his home in North Yorkshire, Helperby Hall, a delight which we shared most afternoons. One particular afternoon Sir Clive was unwell and unable to take our regular constitutional amongst the plants and flowers, so I decided to investigate the remainder of the extensive gardens which, at that time, had fallen into disuse and disrepair. I moved across a weed strewn, broken down tennis court, through a series of damaged and gaping hedges which had once constituted a Maze and arrived at a decrepit summerhouse, once the centre of the Maze. Already a rather sad individual, I found the whole experience depressing, especially so, when I cast my imagination back in time and "remembered" the heady, happy days of pre-war Britain. “They thought it would never end,” I said to myself, “.. but nothing lasts forever” and with that melancholic thought I headed back to the Hall. As I crossed a rockery and patio towards the french doors into the Library, a Bible verse long-lost from my childhood came back to mind.... “What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and looses his soul.” Despite being surrounded by the opulence of upper class country life a shudder went down my spine and I went indoors for a cup of tea.

About a week later Sir Clive was again unable to go into the garden after lunch but on this day a heavy summer drizzle was soaking the garden and I remained indoors. After an hour or so in the Library I adjourned, a little bored, to my room which was, in fact, the guest room at the same end of the Hall as Sir Clive's own quarters. Perched on the edge of my four-poster bed, considering my next move for the afternoon, my eye rested on a pile of magazines on the bedside table which had been placed there for the benefit of guests to Helperby Hall..... “Horse and Hound”, “English Country Garden”, “Stately Home”, and the like. It occurred to me that my life was like that; my various experiences and interests could be represented by a collection of magazines ranging from military journals to Playboy. And like all used magazines, only fit to be piled up as useless and then burned. It was then that I recalled an educational excursion which my father had organised for me about 10 years before .......a visit to a paper mill in Aberdeenshire where I had seen the whole process, including the recycling of old newspapers and magazines by the ton. “If only the same could be done for my life” I mused, “if only I could have a fresh start”.
 
At that moment I heard a quiet inner voice, which I now know to be one way in which God will get our attention, say to me “If you will give me your life I will make it new and give you an absolutely fresh start”. So real was the voice to me, that I spun round from the seated position on the edge of the four-poster to one kneeling beside it and prayed the first truly real prayer of my life:
 
“God, I do not understand what it means for Jesus Christ to die on the cross for my sins but, if it's good enough for you then it's good enough for me. Please take control of my life.”

And He did from that very second!! I instantly felt a great burden fall from me, I felt CLEAN and new, and so much joy flooded my heart that I danced around the bedroom singing any parts of old hymns that I could remember. I just KNEW that I had been saved...and many years later I still know it. With subsequent teaching and discipleship I realised that unknowingly my simple and colloquial prayer in 1971 had gone to the heart of things. I did not seek to come to Him with understanding, but was ready just to take God at His word; I came with my sins and took them to the cross on which Jesus died for me and took God's judgement for my sin; and I surrendered my life from that very hour, in dependence, to Him.
 
Many years have passed, but my excitement and joy about the Lord Jesus Christ is undiminished. Indeed, every passing year increases my wonder and gratitude, my appreciation and awe and, of course my anticipation and expectation of His soon return. Maranatha. Come Lord Jesus!!!!

GILLY GEMMELL

In early 1972, at Queen Anne's School in York, I noticed that a number of my fellow pupils were attending Christian meetings during the lunch break and my curiosity was further aroused by them sitting around with open bibles talking about God instead of the usual chattering over "boys"! Later in the Spring, one of my closer friends, Maggie, invited me to come to an evening youth club at a local Baptist Church along with another friend, Katie. So we went along, not really knowing what we had let ourselves in for.
 
It was an interesting evening. After the usual ping-pong and other games we broke up into small groups for discussion and, being the shyest person there, I hid behind my friend Katie's outgoing personality and let her lead the discussion in a debate with one of the leaders, a very handsome guy called Brian. Katie, who thought she was a "communist" was debating the superiority of Marxism over Christianity with Brian who did not seem to be arguing back as such, but talking about why Jesus died on the Cross. As the evening moved on the official epologue was announced and the guest speaker, Mervyn Moorhead, an Ulsterman then resident in York, gave a short but very clear gospel address. This evening was the first time I heard the good news that God loved me and had sent His Son to die in my place as punishment for my sins, firstly evesdropping on the discussion Katie was having, and then the moving message by Mervyn. When Maggie asked me if I would like to respond to the appeal at the close of the message I readily agreed, and had things further explained to me privately by Mervyn who then led me in the first true prayer of my life. Jesus was now my Saviour.
 
On returning home, my mother and sister asked me if I had "had a nice time" at the Baptist club and I promptly burst into floods of tears and struggled to explain why! They were of course tears of true joy and I could not wait for Sunday to come round and go to this strange, new but wonderful place......"Fellowship"! I immediately settled into the youth group (which was unusual for me because I was by nature extremely shy), attended the Bible study/prayer meeting and shortly after that the study class for those who desired baptism. Meeting with the Lord and His people was the high point of my week and it was not long before I became involved in the evangelism then ongoing in my school, locally, in the area of the Baptist church and wider in the city with the workers associated with the Anglican evangelist, David Watson.
 
On the night of my conversion when Mervyn rose to preach, Katie and Brian were still in full discussion and did not stay in the youth club hall but moved to the main church building to continue talking. This benefitted me by removing Katie's strong influence at the time when Maggie invited me to go forward and respond to the Lord, and set up something for the future. At this time, numerous young people had been converted and it was the normal practice for Brian to give them a copy of the Bible. I duly received mine that evening, little knowing that it would be the first of many gifts he would bestow upon me in Jesus name!......... We were married on 3rd August 1974 (and I have kept him out of trouble ever since!) and some years later when moving house I found the old bible, addressed to me personally and signed by the man who was now my husband. How mysterious and exciting are God's ways.
 
This really is a "happy ever after story" as we have served the Lord together and found Him totally faithful and wonderful for many years, giving us four wonderful children who love the Lord Jesus Christ and three beautiful grandchildren with another due soon! PRAISE the LORD!!!