Bethel Stories

Everyone has a story to tell. For most of us in Bethel, our favourite stories are the ones that remind us that God knows us, loves us and changes us for the better. Here are some of those stories. (You might also enjoy some of the stories of our friends, too.)

Friends of Bethel

“I felt that God was calling me to speak out against Robert Mugabe ”

“God has kept me and given me strength through some very difficult times”

“We set our standards, but when you get there, it doesn't fulfil what you think it will.”

“'Pan-Am Flight 103 has exploded'… the unthinkable slowly expanded, filling not only our minds but every nerve and cell of our bodies… That’s Helga’s flight.”

“He tried to kill me — but when I met him, I liked him”

“I opened a Bible and the words “the truth will set you free” just stared at me. The next eighteen months were the best in my life.”

“Our Christian faith has helped us every single day – if we hadn’t known that God is with us even in the most difficult times, we would probably never have been able to cope. ”

Alison and Kevin

“Suddenly a masked man smashed through the driver’s window with an iron bar and began beating Dad to death. There was nothing Dad could do — he was trapped in his own seat, receiving blow after blow. And it was there he died, suffocating on his own blood.”

Tamar Pollard’s story

“Suddenly a masked man smashed through the driver’s window with an iron bar and began beating Dad to death. There was nothing Dad could do — he was trapped in his own seat, receiving blow after blow. And it was there he died, suffocating on his own blood.”

Thirteen years ago the question of forgiveness became a very real one for me. Every summer my whole family (me, Mum, Dad and younger brother and sister), packed into a caravanette full of aid: food, clothes, medicine and Bibles and journeyed off to Eastern Europe, for six weeks. This particular year, when Mum and Dad approached the Romanian border, the lights failed on the vehicle. They stopped in a lay-by to wait for daylight, but were soon disturbed by a loud bangs. Dad clambered into the cab and put the key into the ignition. Suddenly a masked man smashed through the driver’s window with an iron bar and began beating Dad to death. There was nothing Dad could do — he was trapped in his own seat, receiving blow after blow. And it was there he died, suffocating on his own blood. Questions began to flood my mind. Questions like: “Do I really believe God exists and is in control?”, “Do I really believe God is good and his plans are perfect?”, “Do I really believe God sent his son, Jesus into the world?”, “Do I believe Jesus died in my place, to take the punishment I deserve?”. And as I answered yes to each and every one of them, I was then left with the question, “Well, how am I going to respond?”

Read more of Tamar Pollard’s story