Nick

As a child, I was materially comfortable but constantly scared.

My parents were verbally and physically violent, and I felt like I was always walking on eggshells.

I wasn’t at home an awful lot because I was at boarding school.

But I knew my parents were disappointed in me; they made that clear.

Then, at college, I was involved in a very serious crime.

I went to London with another lad, and we were entirely irresponsible – winding each other up with no thought for the consequences of our actions.

Under joint enterprise in UK law, if you know someone’s got a knife, you’re equally responsible for what they do with it.

I was sent to an adult prison where I was put in the hospital block because I was too young to go on the wings.

It was utterly alien.

I remember watching a guy arguing with someone, across the yard. But when they took me past his cell, no one was there.

He was arguing with the wall.

I was really lonely and I didn’t have anything to read, so I asked if I could go to the library.

I wasn’t religious, I’d had no reason to think about God growing up. But I chose a book called Send Me Your Guardian Angel by Padre Pio, and for some reason it gave me comfort.

Then I moved to a young offender institution.

They showed me in no uncertain terms who was boss. They shaved my head, took my clothes, put me in a Category A cell.

This time there were quite a few books in my cell. All horror except one – Send Me Your Guardian Angel. I was surprised and greatly comforted by it.

After a couple of months, I was called into a meeting with the governor, psychologist and a range of officers.

I was a bit out of the ordinary as a prisoner, and they wanted to warn me about the violence that lay ahead.

They told me I’d go through so much trauma that I’d never be able to sustain a normal relationship again.

Then they sent me back to my cell.

I sat there thinking, ‘I’m the lowest of the low, the bottom of the pile. I can’t change myself. I can’t change my surroundings. What can I do?’

I thought about studying psychology, then religion. I got hold of some sacred texts and read them all. A lot had good ideas that appealed to my mind.

Then I found a copy of John’s Gospel.

When I read it, it grabbed my mind and my heart.

I asked to see the Anglican chaplain. He spent so much time listening to me and answering my questions.

He never said he was too busy. Eventually, I said I’d like to become a Christian.

My first real prayer was a trade: ‘If you make me a good man, I’ll be yours forever.’

I started going to Anglican communion. Then, one day, I got the timing wrong and went to a Catholic mass. It was a riot.

People were attacking each other at the back over money for drugs.

Father Paddy was at the front, saying, ‘Now, now, my dusty angels…’

Then when he raised the host, with chairs being thrown all around me, I felt the most perfect peace.

When my time came for release, I applied to study at Oxford Brookes.

I’d got to know ACT’s Susan Cuthbert in HMP Bullingdon, so I went along to St Aldates Church and started volunteering with ACT.

Not only was ACT prepared to help me, they were a support community and a place of spiritual nourishment.

I helped with the ACT family meal. A little later, I became a volunteer in the ACT office.

Then, just at the right time, I was offered an opportunity to apply for a job as a housing support worker. I got an interview.

Everyone knew my story, and I got the job.

That was several years ago.

Today, I’ve just moved on from my role at ACT to live a new life on the continent with my wife.

Even in the most stressful circumstances, everything since prison has been a gift from God.