This testimony is hopefully the conclusion of a journey started way back in 2019

and what would I change?.. three little words...

1. The Call of Isaiah

After seeing a vision of the Lord’s glory and being purged of his sin, Isaiah hears a divine request for a messenger.

Isaiah 6:8: "Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me."

2. The Testing of Abraham

On the mountain of Moriah, at the very moment Abraham stretched forth his hand to sacrifice Isaac, the Angel of the Lord intervened.

Genesis 22:11: "And the angel of the Lord called unto him out of heaven, and said, Abraham, Abraham: and he said, Here am I."

3. Moses at the Burning Bush

In the desert of Midian, God captured Moses' attention through a bush that burned but was not consumed.

Exodus 3:4: "And when the Lord saw that he turned aside to see, God called unto him out of the midst of the bush, and said, Moses, Moses. And he said, Here am I."

4. The Boy Samuel’s Transition

Samuel was young and did not yet know the voice of the Lord, leading to a back-and-forth between his bed and the priest Eli.

1 Samuel 3:4: "That the Lord called Samuel: and he answered, Here am I." (Repeated in verses 5, 6, and 8 until Eli perceived it was the Lord).

5. Ananias and the Conversion of Saul

In the New Testament, Ananias is called to go to the very man who had been breathing out "threatenings and slaughter" against the church.

Acts 9:10: "And there was a certain disciple at Damascus, named Ananias; and to him said the Lord in a vision, Ananias. And he said, Behold, I am here, Lord."

1. The Call and the Journey

This testimony starts with a one liner “the church needs men of God “ delivered succinctly by a brother and dear friend Proverbs 27:6 in the King James Version states: "Faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful." and executed in such a fashion that I could not ignore it , like an inaccessible itch, Mind you in the very next statement “and we need you ” I still can’t work out if it was an, either or , situation. I know that the move here was God-ordained; I always remember that first glimpse of the Mountains of Mourne,

it was breathtaking, it even caused me to ponder, that alien concept of love at first sight. Comforting scriptures seemed to gently engulf us, as a mother swaddling her precious cargo, whilst hoping and looking toward the destination and the abundance of hope we shared as we ventured on our journey into the unknown. On the left was God’s love vast as the ocean aptly sung by Robin Mark, who wept the occasional tear over his beloved Belfast and hadn’t we just drove through his city, and if we were to fly like the eagles fly Isaiah 40:31, on our present trajectory wouldn’t we just drop in to the place where the original hymn was echoed mightily throughout the valley

And so, onto our Land of Beulah after all were we not like "The two good spies" who had already spied out the land and had been uplifted by what we saw, my wife’s close attachments to Northern Ireland and my dreams of the fire to be found in the in the hearts of the old preaching divines and if Caleb was wanting to take mountains at the age of eighty five, no bother, surely, wasn’t I still the young pup at seventy!

The big day, pulling into the drive the landlady was already there after the usual pleasantries we were ushered in to the sunroom, to be sat down at a table and to be given our last chance to abandon this crazy notion, what I admired about our new friend, was her honesty,” it’s a bit close to the main road” “ have you ever experienced the chill off the Irish sea” and so on and so forth, even the fact that we were here was a miraculous testimony to the goodness of our God. As she explained to us the main reason for her choice in us, I felt a slight deflation to my ego, hadn’t I just been running up and down the mounting with Caleb, naming and a claiming, back to the reason for us being there, we were an old couple and would look after her home! Should I give her my testimony now or wait, I thought waiting might be the best policy as we hadn’t signed the agreement yet, and besides I managed to catch that little prideful thought, I’m often reminded of the arcade game whack a mole, but the moles are our old self’s, I soon recovered from my ego slap, and couldn’t concentrate on who’s responsible for putting the rubbish out, didn’t I have plenty of my own, standing up from the table, like a child wanting to explore his new kingdom I was off, with, do you agree Mr Donnelly wafting behind me, Mark Twain’s classics Tom Sawyer or Huckleberry Finn came to mind, but I settled on Peter rabbit or was it Bing bunny.

2. The Context of Revival

This video provides the historical background [00:56], showcasing the legacy of powerful 19th-century preachers who set the stage for the awakening. The moving lyrics of the hymn "Here is Love, Vast as the Ocean" became the central anthem of the Welsh Revival [42:03], illustrating how music served as a vehicle for the Holy Spirit's presence [41:47], often moving congregations to deep, spontaneous worship.

In the winter of 1904, a spiritual fire began in the small coal-mining villages of Wales [23:27]—specifically at Moriah Chapel in Loughor—that would eventually reach across the globe [05:44]. Yet, unlike modern evangelistic campaigns, this movement did not begin with an appeal to the lost. It began with the "bending" of the heart [11:14], a term sparked by the prayer "Lord, bend us," which led to a total surrender to the Divine will.

In every context of revival or resurrection, there is a strict biological and spiritual requirement: the entity must have been alive previously [01:26]. The term itself is an archive of a former life; it implies the restoring of something that once possessed vitality but lost it [04:50], moving the church from a state of "spiritual coldness" back into a vibrant, living communion with God.

It is the gasp of a person brought back from clinical death. As I look at the landscape of my own history, I ask: Was this our time? Was this a time of true personal revival, especially for me? If the prerequisite for revival is a state of near-extinction, was I not the ideal candidate? If the criteria for restoration is a total loss of one's own strength, was I not hyper-qualified? I look at the ledger of my physical existence: the multi-organ failures, the heart attacks, and the endless list of debilitating ailments that have defined my recent years. I have occupied the very space where life meets its end, making me a specialist in the need for a "return."

Moving over to the spiritual summary of qualifications, I found I was equally eligible. True revival is not a recruitment drive for the world. It is the Church—the true convert—repenting and being made "alive again." When this happens, it isn't through clever arguments, but through the overwhelming presence of the Holy Spirit. In that state of restored life, others are instinctively affected and convicted by the holiness they sense. This was the heartbeat of the Welsh Revival of 1904. It wasn't built on programs; it was built on a "bending" of the heart. The anthem of that movement was the hymn "Here is Love, Vast as the Ocean." They called it "The Love Song of the Revival." In those packed, dimly lit chapels, they didn't need a sermon to feel the weight of God. A single voice would begin to sing those words, and the reality of the "Prince of Life" pouring out His blood would sweep through the room like a flood. The significance of that song lies in its focus. It isn't about our effort to reach God, but about His "vast and gracious tide" reaching us when we are at our lowest. For the miners in Wales, and for me in my hospital bed, the message is the same: Revival is the Prince of Life stepping into the room of the dead and the dying to say, "Live again." I was qualified by my suffering, and I was eligible by my need. When the Spirit restores life to the living, the world doesn't just hear a message—they see the evidence of a miracle. The results were not just religious; they were sociological. As the Church was revived, the presence of God "saturated" the community. Theatres closed because there were no audiences; pubs emptied as men spent their wages on their families instead of ale. Perhaps most famously, the workhorses in the coal mines became confused and stopped moving—not because of a strike, but because the newly revived miners had stopped using the profanity and kicks the animals were trained to obey.

3. The Onset of Battle

When we moved in, my soul immediately began to heal just being surrounded by His creation, but my body was forever playing catch up and I seemed to be blighted by one set back after another As time progressed, I tried attaining a level of fitness that would complement the surgery I needed but I was never able to achieve it as I would experience chronic fatigue. Every time I sought advice from the doctors, they would do an ECG and various tests which would mostly come back normal. I tried telling them on numerous occasions that I needed a treadmill test to show my body's reaction to stress. I was the patient they knew best. I had a few scriptures I meditated on during this time. One was when the Amalekites attacked the Israelites' rear guard. According to the biblical accounts in Exodus 17 and Deuteronomy 25, the Amalekites launched an unprovoked and cowardly attack on the most vulnerable members of the Israelite camp as they journeyed through the wilderness after leaving Egypt. I thought that was for everyone else but me, since I had been "through the mill." As far as I was concerned, my next scripture from Amos came into play regarding what "dressing" sycamore figs meant:

The Fruit: Sycamore figs (from the Ficus sycomorus) are different from common figs and are naturally hard and unpalatable. · The Process: To make them edible, the fruit had to be cut or pricked (hence "dresser" or "nipper"). This allowed the fruit to soften and ferment, making the pulp edible. · Amos's Role: Amos was a shepherd and a cultivator of these sycamore trees, a manual labour employment associated with lower social classes, not a trained prophet. In the context of Amos 7:14, Amos tells Amaziah (a priest) that he wasn't a professional prophet but a common man when God called him, emphasizing his divine authority. So, here I was, ready to share my harvest. Throughout this time, the enemy was toiling away in the background. It started with the odd whisper about my health, about not being able to do odd jobs around the home, and how inadequate I was becoming compared to just a few years ago, when I would have been running up and down roofs. Having continuous problems with the fistula,amongst other ailments, with my many wasted visits to hospitals, and my records not being sent from England,, the stage was set for the next "logical" reason for all of this.Throughout this time our prayer meetings and fellowship were a Godsend for sustenance. With all the encouragement I still had my doubts, maybe I've reached the Jordan, dropping off my dear wife to be with our new fellowship and her sister only an hour away, after all the "what ifs" we went through over the last few years. My new task was preparation; even a slight sense of resolve settled on me. It started with humorous anecdotes about why we were here, trying to make light of the situation, even going so far as to say (jokingly?) that I could be in Glory by now, if people hadn't prayed so fervently for me. Even the overseer of our fellowship didn't escape my "preparation," as I often made light of the notion of leaving my wife with them as I walked off into glory. Helen, my wife , started feeling unsettled and told me I was upsetting her with my ever-increasing cajoling. Of course, I "knew best" and thought it was for her own good. Jeremiah 17:9 says, "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?" Through all this time, I made full use of my sleepless nights by praying through the night watches, which gave me some solace. Many nights I would cry out to the Lord to experience that special "first love" we shared when He first lifted me up out of the miry clay.

After another extended bout of illness, the stage was set. The problems took a toll on my overall welfare and left me depleted, but I saw a glimmer of light through a door opened by a concerned doctor. I had an appointment booked within a few days that normally took six months to a year. The appointment was for a barrage of tests taking all day on December 12th. I saw probably six specialists; I even had a brain scan (probably still awaiting results from that one). My mood was slightly uplifted as we had decided to deal with the outcome together. Everything was going well; the health app kept pinging away merrily—first one good result, then another. Things were finally looking up. There were a few issues that needed more intensive diagnostics, but I was sent home with antibiotics for a water infection. After a few days, I received a request to pick up stronger meds. A lot of what I was experiencing reminded me of The Pilgrim's Progress—entering the Enchanted Ground.

4. The Hospital and the Vision

The Good Lord knew exactly where I needed to be. If I'd stayed at my old home, I would have conceded long ago, as my days were filled with constant reminders of my inabilities. My bed was next to the front room window; I could view work never completed, which would have become a weapon in the hand of the enemy. Needless to say, I had all the prayers and support from my fellowship, but that was not the background for the upcoming fight. We have a God who never sleeps or slumbers, but we have an adversary who is always scheming. It is now December 18th. My usual wave of tiredness came upon me, but this time it felt different. The enemy was ready for his onslaught—not the usual fiery darts from cover of darkness, but a full-frontal attack. Never underestimate his abilities; I still find it hard to believe the speed of events. I started plummeting on a downward spiral. My breathing became extremely labored; my whole body felt as if it were shutting down. The memories came flooding back when I had multiple organ failure. Normally, there is a great reluctance for me to go to hospital. This time, the path was already prepared. Helen was shocked that I wanted to "cut out the middleman" and just get there. This was it: no more suffering, I was to guilefully slip away and die like some injured animal. My friend Tom decided to take the mountain route to the hospital; it certainly helped me stay awake! Sometimes you don't need an abundance of words; you just need the right ones. Tom's parting words were, "We need you, and the church needs men of God." Having arrived at A&E, unable to walk steadily, Tom got me a wheelchair, pushed me into the reception and booked me in. This was only supposed to be a formality as my doctor had phoned ahead, I was parked in the waiting room. There were four people there. The first annoying aspect was being shoved right next to someone else while confined to the wheelchair, with no chance of being able to reposition, (The whole scene brought me back 2019, well at least I had a wheelchair from the unset this time) I was left like a forlorn puppy, waiting for the doors to open to the sound of someone calling my name "softly and tenderly." My frustration opened a doorway for my old nemesis (my old self). It turns out he brought a slight relief as we, as a team, started deconstructing the situation—thinking I should take precedence over everyone else there. I remembered what my dear old Ma would say: "It would be worse if owt ailed ya." Finally, my name was called—that soothing breeze on a summer’s eve. By this time, I was pleading for somewhere to lay my head. I remembered Tom’s parting words; somehow he had managed to place them in that spot that you can't reach to itch. I knew that if I got to it, I'd uncover hidden truths. From my early days following the Lord, I knew of my calling—to be like Ezekiel, sent to a rebellious and stubborn people, hardening himself like a stone to deliver the message. I had previously tried to show the Lord why my plan was better. I spent time in Eastern Europe helping with building projects, at my old fellowship I would assist the Pastor with outreach gardening, decorating, and even youth work. Whilst working in Hungary I told myself that I was needed because of my building skills, or was it because of the "feel-good factor." But all this time, I knew I had not fulfilled my purpose or my calling to be that "man of God." As soon as I went through the doors, there was a flurry of activity. "Hello, do you know that you're extremely unwell?" The room became a blur. I even managed a moment of light relief when the staff chatted amongst themselves, dropping their volume to talk about the "worst-case scenario." Yeah, it sounds really bad—falling asleep in the arms of Jesus! By nightfall, after being turned down for the I.C.U It would be a waste of time, they had spoken with my wife and said that I had about 48 hours left so a ceiling of care order was put in place and I ended up in a room on the Enhanced Care Unit. It was during this time I had my spiritual encounter as if in another dimension. I have just stopped to recompose, knowing what comes next. It’s been over a week now, every time I try to share my experience with my wife Helen, the moment I recall it , I become overwhelmed. Writing about it is hard enough as to me the most beautifully profound truth of the matter was the simplicity of the whole situation. On Friday night, I was laid flat, hooked up to machines. , I felt as if Lord Jehovah El-Ashiyb was stood just behind my right shoulder I felt as if the Lord slowly bent to whisper in my ear: "So you want to throw in the towel?" Devastated, I responded that I’d had enough fighting. As this was happening, I felt the bed moving into a reclined position to give me a better view of what was transpiring. On an extra large screen that seemed to cover the whole wall opposite to me, I watched as the "towel" landed squarely in the middle of what reminded me of a boxing ring. I even noticed the color of the towel, as it was the colour of a striped prayer shawl, I looked over to the other corner and realized that the adversary hadn't even bothered to wait for his victory to be announced, his corner was empty, having gone off prematurely to celebrate. The Lord had troubled me using the idiom of "throwing in the towel." I have a thing about sayings and usually will look them up. On my left side, a screen popped up where the definition appeared: defeat. I had had enough of fighting, but then came the words humiliation and submission. Another idiom came up on the screen: "If you can't do it for yourself, do it for others." I was reminded of all my family's prayers in Christ, and besides I had supposedly died to self. The screen seemed to expand as it started to fill with hundreds of, text messages from well wishers, then they changed to what looked like the credits at the end of a movie, but were actually prayers. At the top was Jesus’s earthly prayer for all believers, followed by the many prayers and petitions of others. I even remembered my Godly aunts telling me of their prayers for me, when I was far from the Lord . The list seemed to be never ending as if moving through time. Suddenly I found myself back at the beach near my home , where the stony ground had changed into a vast golden, sandy beach. Although I had breathing difficulties, and had to have a special mask on, it just disappeared as the waves slowly started to flow over my entire body. An inexplicable love and peace engulfed my whole being, intensifying with each wave that washed over me, it was so overwhelming that by the fourth wave, I couldn't take anymore. I believe that while we are in these "earthly tents," we need to be hidden in the cleft, as the fullness of His Majestic love, would be too much to bear. I have read of the "old divines" receiving a second imparting of the Holy Spirit, but all I know now is the vastness of our Savior's love. I went to that hospital to die like a dog, but just one touch from the King changes everything.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vLs6Kl3wgtk

My oxygen machine was set to 100%; now it’s at 50%. Each day, the Lord gives me the battle plan for that day.

5.Still Waters After the Valley

Psalm 23:2-3 in the King James Version reads: "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake".

Was this to be my Brook Cherith, or Ezekiel 47? I always gravitate back to sweet Beulah. Even the big move was orchestrated by our Lord. There are so many testimonies in each element of this journey that I must curtail the narrative, or you’ll end up with the never-ending story.

Shalom. (A stupid notion tried creeping in—should I delete that word in case it offends? Nope. I’m with the Holy Spirit and not the zeitgeist, small 'z'.)

Postscript: The "Yorkshire Lamb"

The brother who ably assisted me on this quest with his "men of God" quip may as well bring this narrative to a rest with another of his famous interjections.

Early in our resettlement, having found a fellowship, we settled into the rhythm of church life, been from Yorkshire, sometimes people have trouble understanding my accent. At one prayer meeting, my prayer that day was regarding a subject close to my heart, ending passionately with a crescendo: “May your Shalom be upon them!” After the obligatory cuppa, my friend tentatively leaned over to enquire: “What did you mean by 'Yorkshire lamb'?

A Note on the Journey

I started New Year’s Eve with my one-fingered typing skills on a mobile phone, often losing the plot with brain fog. I spent the night producing a heap of nothing. I progressed to my laptop on New Year’s Day, increasing my output by a hundred percent—two fingers now! But the left is forgetting what the right is doing. If I could bend it or shape it to fit in with the context of Matthew 6:3, I’d be happy. It's now the first of April and I finally finishing this testimony as with a lot of things in this life, Proverbs 16:9 in the King James Version (KJV) states, "A man's heart deviseth his way: but the LORD directeth his steps". Plus I am now thinking that I should of used the Ulster revival – 1859 as I am now an Ulsterman,

but as I tend to go down rabbit holes, this was no exception what triggered me was the hymn "Here is Love, Vast as the Ocean" that became the central anthem of the Welsh Revival. Besides I don't want to wait another three months to conclude.

Ecclesiastes 12:13 Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man.