Abel

I was born in Ethiopia, into poverty. I lived with my mum, sister and nan – my dad came in and out of our lives.

When I was eight, my dad took me to Kenya. He wanted to seek asylum and thought he’d have a better chance of success with a child. Not much was explained and he wasn’t someone I really knew.

We stayed with a family who took us in. But the application process was dragging and my dad must have got weary because he went back to Ethiopia without telling our hosts – or me.

They were a Christian family and they adopted me and took me in as one of their own. But I felt a lot of abandonment, and very unloved.

Not long after that, we moved to Belgium. Everything was suddenly so different, and I didn’t even know who I was. I started veering off, trying to carve an identity for myself, hanging round with the wrong people.

Then, when I was 15, I left home, angry, bitter, confused. I came to England and got a job to show everyone I didn’t need them.

By this time, I was using Class A drugs, repeatedly getting a job then losing it, blagging my way until I ended up homeless.

It was later, when something terrible happened, that I reached out to a pastor I’d met. He told me about an organisation called Betel that gives people a chance to reset their lives.

When I got there, I was just skin and bones. I was scared and anxious, and in a really bad place. I hardly slept for over a week.

They changed my soaking sheets, made me endless cups of tea that I couldn’t hold down, carried me to the bathroom. They didn’t need to do that – they had nothing to gain.

I’d heard about God before but now I saw the love of Jesus.

One night, I snuck downstairs to the little chapel with an MP3 player full of worship songs and I just began to cry and cry, for hours until the sun came up. Then I wiped my tears and showered and got on with my day, as if nothing had happened. This went on for four days and then eventually I couldn’t hold it in.

No one wants me, everyone’s rejected me, and here’s Jesus saying,

‘Look, I love you and I want you. When you were in that really bad place, there I was. When you were in that really ugly situation, there I was. I was there.’

It melted me.

When I could, I started making meals for guys coming in, changing their sheets, staying up with them through the night.

As I did, I began to take my eyes off myself and see there was joy in helping others. Not resolving their problems, but sitting with them in their pain, saying, ‘I understand.’

And I was the one being helped – it was the most beautiful thing.

Eventually I became part of the staff team, overseeing some of the men’s houses, being with the guys in community. I met my wonderful wife Hannah there, and we got married.

Moving to Oxford to start work with ACT (as Housing Manager) took a leap of faith. But we felt pretty sure Jesus was in it so we said yes, we’d follow him and here we are.

ACT’s a community where you’re invited to bring your whole self, your vulnerability, your brokenness – we’re all seeking healing together and it’s beautiful. There’s an openness I wasn’t expecting.

I can see ACT is growing. There’s a wave coming. I came in on that, to be part of a movement rather than take a role, to join in with what God’s doing.

To someone on the street, I’d say,

‘The door’s open. You can be your whole self – no pretences or masks.

Come taste, see, test – you decide. You’re loved.’