Bethany, A Relationship With Kings and Hope
This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; He is my God, and I trust him. For He will rescue you from every trap and protect you from deadly disease. He will cover you with his feathers. He will shelter you with his wings. His faithful promises are your armour and protection. Psalms 91
The Formative Years. A Scottish Lad in Africa
No one’s life comes with any sort of guarantees; mine certainly didn’t. The first 20 years consisted of a fairly common, if a little bit different experience, to many people born in a small town outside Glasgow. Five years old and leaving on an African adventure. Our family emigrating to a new country, culture, climate and life. Looking back at life in what was Rhodesia and then Zimbabwe. Being sent to boarding school, a mentally abusive stepfather, racism and discord and a war within the country have all played a part in shaping the way I view the world and myself. Extremely shy as a lad, partly due to abject fear of my stepfather, mixed in with feelings of hatred towards him and his bullying and constant verbal abuse. A bear of a man with hands like shovels, a Sergeant Major in the Rhodesian Army with an unhealthy obsession with guns. I grew up constantly feeling that I was not, and never would be, good enough. Being told that you’re stupid and useless at ten years old and for it to continue throughout your teenage years. The man, when I was 7 years old, shot my own Dad in the leg with his 9mm Browning handgun, scarring him for life. Compounded by him sending me to a private boarding school for five years, a remote school on the Zimbabwe/Botswana border. An over ten hours journey, away from my beloved mum in a rickety old school bus for three months at a time purely so he did not have to look at me. While boarding school might have provided me with a decent enough education and respite from his bullying for a few months, the school’s old colonial style brought a different type of abuse to all the junior pupils. This time from the older pupils who used the opportunity to repay the same thing they were subjected to as juniors. A recurring circle of generations of “we got this when we were your age, so you’re going to get the same thing” in the full knowledge of many of the teaching staff. It was viewed in those days as ‘character building’. 2
Strategically placed punches to ensure that the resulting bruises were not visible and being a human dartboard with real darts for the entertainment of the prefects became commonplace and over time ‘normal’. It didn’t feel like bullying as the seniors didn’t pick on certain individuals or discriminate, we were all kindly treated to similar levels of ‘character building’. I’m now grateful for the abuse from my stepfather and having to endure the punches and kicks from the older boys and the cane across my tender backside from the housemaster for not having shiny enough polished shoes or something out of its place in the locker at the end of our beds amongst a myriad of other possible ‘misdemeanors’.
Through my experience of being treated as worthless, that in turn has taught me to appreciate kindness and value its power, that a single act of it can transform somebody’s life.
The Career Years
I have always wanted to work in hotels. At around 13 years of age, I remember clearly one of our yearly trips from Harare to Durban and having an overnight stop just over the Zimbabwe border into South Africa. It would have been The Holiday Inn in the small town of Messina. As I was passing a large function room, I heard some music with a dance beat booming and as I peeked inside there were around 15-20 South African waiting staff setting up what looked like a large wedding event. While they were either laying table settings, polishing cutlery and glassware or folding napkins, each one of them had a great aura of fun and cheerfulness about them, clearly having fun while working. I turned to my mum and said these words. “When I’m grown up, I want to work in hotels”.
Little did I know that that decision was going to provide me with an opportunity to work in some of the world’s finest restaurants and resort hotels across the UK and Bermuda. Food and Beverage Manager, Restaurant Manager, Conference and Banqueting Manager, Bar Manager, Room Service Manager, I did them all. Some weeks working over 100 hours a week for not a great deal of money and I loved every minute of it. Conversations with Clint Eastwood, Jack Nicholson, Michael Douglas to name a few of my favourites, The British Open Golf Championship and my fellow Zimbabwean shamwari Nick Price winning the iconic Claret Jug and allowing me and my team to take a glug of Champagne from it following his impromptu victory party. The Ryder Cup at Gleneagles. The glamour of working in high-end luxury resorts. The demanding work and camaraderie between us all, manager and his team all striving to do the absolute best we could. All done with a sense of fun and more than an occasional touch of absolute nonsense have served to forge lasting friendships, many to this very day.
The Heartbreak and Beginning of the Fall from Grace
Along with the glamour and hard work came a price. A price that shook me to the core. As my career blossomed, I had no idea that my marriage was becoming shaky. The woman whom I had deeply loved since we were in our late teens, the woman whom I adored, the woman who had given me the greatest gift of all, a son who I love with every breath I take. I was unaware that the long unsocial hours I was gladly putting in to provide for my family would lead to the event that changed my life irreparably. Whilst I may never know the full details and accept some responsibility that I hadn’t been aware that the amount of hours I was at work could have been part of the reason, but my wife got bored and was doing some not so nice things behind my back. It took me to finally get it out of her on the evening of our 10th wedding anniversary as we were about to have a lovely meal in a fancy restaurant. I asked a simple question “Do you want to be married to me for the next 10 years? After much avoiding the subject and uneasiness, she finally looked down at the carpet and said these three words which felt like a stake being driven into my heart. “I’m not sure”.
Devastation. I put everything I had into my marriage and family and now those dark, hidden feelings of a 10 year old boy came flooding back. I was not good enough. From that point on, my life crumbled. This exact moment is as clear in my mind as if it happened yesterday. Full bottle of red wine on the table for our meal sitting in front of me. Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Next to it my empty glass. An extremely large glass that these posh places like to use. Filled to the brim and necked in a few large gulps, filled once more until it’s finished. I stood up and in reply to her “I’m not sure” I said, “I’m sorry, that’s not enough for me”. I called a taxi and left, leaving her sitting alone.
I had just gone from a social drinker of having a glass of wine after work to an alcoholic within seconds. The pain I felt inside me, the heartbreak, the rejection from the one person who I had trusted with my heart, given fully, totally and faithfully had broken a piece inside of me that I would quickly learn that only alcohol could soften. What followed is a blur of 16 years functioning alcoholism, moving from job to job, country to country, all in the search to mask and forget the pain within. Working in hotels is never a good thing when you’re rapidly developing an alcohol addiction. You have a never-ending supply. Surprisingly, my career initially improved, including promotions and client recognition, and many Trip Advisor reviews for my service. I’m both embarrassed and shocked looking back at all this done whilst being intoxicated. I think my body was at the stage it required alcohol to straighten me out and probably function. Not one single person, not one single colleague, not one single guest knew that I had a problem. But with my addiction came a separate problem. My mouth. I was often getting into shouting matches with colleagues, particularly those who I felt were treating people unjustly and those who used their position as a position of power. I often think that was possibly the first trait of a condition and something I would discover in years to come. It culminated in one particular argument with a manager, and I lost my job. The only job in a 25 year career I was fired from and surprisingly enough, not for alcohol reasons. The spiral downward marched on. To the stage I was often drinking three bottles of straight vodka a day. Where I got the funds to feed my alcohol habit, I have no idea but I’ve come to realise that people with an addiction become very manipulative and often lie and deceive to find a way to get that release into sweet oblivion where nothing matters; your internal turmoil, your pain, your guilt, everything and everyone doesn’t matter. Addiction is a selfish place, to be honest. Having absolutely no memory of this period of my life or even living at this particular address, I have been reliably informed by the police that I was in such a mess that both the paramedics and police were having to do welfare checks on me hourly. Apparently, the paramedics came to do their check and they didn’t get any response to their knocking so had to call the police. I’ve been told that the police finally had to put my door in and found me, completely passed out, covered in a pool of my own vomit with empty vodka and wine bottles scattered across the room.
Taken to hospital for three months and informed that if I continued to drink, I would be dead within six months. 45 years old and on the brink of death. I have been told that I was days away from being made a Ward of the Court whereby social work would make all my life decisions as I was deemed to lack capacity. What followed on discharge was a placement in an alcoholics’ halfway house of sorts where, for the three months I was there, I didn’t touch a drop of alcohol even though it was allowed under supervision. I had been given a big enough fright of potentially being dead within months to stop completely for the time I was there. However, addiction has a way of creeping back into your life. I couldn’t even tell you what happened in my life that I started drinking again.
Bottles, Bashes and Bruises
Back down to Ayrshire to be nearer to my son. A small town where I knew nobody, not one single soul. I had been there less than a month and I was out walking home when suddenly I felt this excruciating pain on the side of my face as a hooded figure ran past me and took off, running quickly up the road. I didn’t see the face. I looked down, holding my face and saw an empty bottle of Stella Lager at my feet. I remember that it was one of the larger glass bottles of Stella. I had been violently struck with it. Fortunately, it didn’t break. A frantic call to the emergency services, and the paramedics and police were soon on site. The police forensics took DNA from my clothing and fingerprinted the bottle. I found out a year later than no one has ever been caught for the random, unprovoked assault. I was taken by ambulance to hospital where an ophthalmologist examined my eyes and stated that he had discovered copper rings called Kayser-Fleischer rings or something. I jokingly said, “pity they’re not gold”. I was discharged with no follow up.
I apologise for the graphic nature of the photographs, but they are an intrinsic part of the story. Looking back, strangely in a bizarre twist of events, I firmly believe that at the very moment of impact on my face that God’s grace and plan for the remainder of my life came into existence.
Sushi, Sauvignon Blanc, Sinner and Salvation
On the move again, still drinking heavily still searching for employment full in the knowledge that I was broken goods, and I remember thinking that I felt sorry for any employer who potentially would employ such a waste of a man. One of my previous jobs was manager of a busy restaurant/bar in Bermuda which had a Sushi Bar with sushi prepared in front of you. I grew a love of sashimi which lives with me to this day. But I was no longer in Bermuda. I was back in Scotland with no money and a serious alcohol addiction. In a muddled alcohol fueled stupor going to Yo Sushi seemed like a good idea. I often wonder if God guided me to that place as a part of his jigsaw in his grand masterplan for my life. I don’t know, and may never know but what I do know is that what happened in the following months undoubtedly saved me from a certain death. After eating and downing a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc I walked out without paying in a drunken mess. I was arrested and taken to a police holding cell. This is one of the hardest things I have had to do when telling my story. I’m still ashamed and embarrassed by what I have been told I did. At some point whilst in the holding cell I was informed that I spat at a police officer. That is police assault. What an absolutely disgusting thing to do to another human being. Nobody deserves that. I quite rightly received a deserved eight month custodial sentence. I spent those eight months full of remorse and accepted my punishment.
Two months prior to my release date I was summoned to the medical centre, which in itself wasn’t unusual due to previously having been diagnosed with Thyroid Cancer in my early 30’s. I require regular blood tests checking my thyroid levels. I met this doctor who I had no idea who she was. I sat down and she said, “I have something to tell you. You have a rare genetic condition that you were born with called Wilsons Disease and unfortunately, it’s too late to treat.” I’m not ashamed to admit that I collapsed in a heap of tears. She went on to say that I had been hit with the double whammy as people who have the condition develop cirrhosis of the liver sometimes to the point of a full liver transplant without touching a drop of alcohol in their life. I was unlucky enough to have Wilsons Disease and a history of serious alcohol abuse. At the time I truly believed it was the worst day of my entire life, to be in prison and to be told that you have something living inside you with no cure. In hindsight, it truly turned out to be my salvation. The copper rings found in my eyes a year prior were how the condition was found. Apparently only 30 people in the whole of Scotland have the condition. If the assault hadn’t happened, I would never have been diagnosed. Basically, Wilsons Disease means that my body cannot get rid of copper (which everyone has) and it stores in my already destroyed liver and my brain. This was the price of deserved punishment, this was the price I had to pay for my actions. A loss of freedom, a diagnosis of a condition that without treatment, life expectancy is estimated to be 40. I was 48. All of the above given in exchange to find lasting sobriety through the truth of the grace and forgiveness and the hope, available to us all through the salvation of Jesus Christ. I am in absolutely no doubt that God placed me in that deep dark place in order for me to break my alcohol addiction. He put me in a place where I had no option to do what I had become programmed to do in times of crisis and that was to drink myself into oblivion. Certainly, in this case after being told I had something with no cure had it been under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have been able to cope and would have undoubtedly drunk myself to death. Of that, I am 100% sure. Both prison and Jesus saved my life. Even before I had any interest in God or Church, I think God looked down at me and saw something in me that I didn’t see in myself. He saw a purpose for my life; He provided hope as He watched me turn my life around totally and guided me to the place where, if truth be told, guided me to meet the person who has shown me what true kindness, humility and care for others truly is. All done with an encouraging and loving heart.
Bethany Christian Trust: Transforming People’s Lives
Some people are placed in your life’s path to reach parts of your inner soul that have been hidden by the past pain and trauma. To find that shine bursting to get out, to encourage and give a belief in you that nobody else has, including yourself. This wonderful gift from God to everyone’s lives she touches was this unassuming, humble human being called Kam who through her belief, her endless encouragement and kindness to me (and her voracious knack of volunteering you for jobs you didn’t know existed!). Someone who I am eternally grateful for the guidance, patience and understanding she has given me and truly a belief that I am not worthless, that I am valuable and worthy of love. Even though I had been sober for around a year, when I first met Kam at Bethany’s weekly drop-in centre, The Toastie Club, I still had trust issues. By Kam’s selfless actions she built a trust in me to believe in the goodness of people which for me personally I needed to see and witness before I could begin to believe in the goodness of God.
Kings, Worship, Welcome
Through the kindness and the trust that Kam had slowly built in me, looking back, it was probably when I first started thinking that there is possibly something more to life. It was Kam who led me to the place that opened not only my eyes but initial disbelief that this actually was a Church and not a celebration with zero alcohol required! Blended with people who seemed to be actually genuinely friendly. Something I wasn’t really used to. But Lynn Williams Geldart’s big beaming smile at the church door accompanied by a huge welcome hug or her lovely Welsh cwtsh was something I so needed in my brokenness. What an amazing lady she is and I can’t not mention her fantabulous, delicious bakes and cakes! I have found a lifelong friend in Lynn and apparently, she is on occasion thought to be my church wife. Sorry Matt! I have always loved dance music and in my younger days was a regular at rave events. My first experience of Church in over 30 years since leaving school was walking in to see this band on stage who, in my opinion, certainly wasn’t playing anything that resembled the church hymns I was accustomed to at boarding school. The memory of Simon, Barry and others from the worship team on stage booming out ‘Echoes’ by Hillsong and the feelings of euphoria of actually being able to dance in church will stay ingrained on my soul for eternity.
A few of the traits of Wilsons Disease due to the copper build up and damage to the part of the brain that controls behaviour, impulse control, and emotional regulation. This can commonly lead to angry outbursts and in my case uninhibited behaviour. I’m a little embarrassed looking back because when that worship dance beat kicked in, I danced like there was no tomorrow. Becoming a Christian didn’t happen overnight, far from it in my case as I still had some issues to work through, but I can honestly say that moment when the lyrics “We will sing, we will dance” kicked in that was my lightbulb moment when I said an almighty WOW! Little did I know at the time that humble, community church on King Street, Aberdeen, would grow and blossom exactly like my faith grew and blossomed, somewhere that I feel welcomed, valued and safe. I have always been a firm believer that just because you go to church doesn’t automatically make you a good person. Like life, everyone is different. You have genuinely good people and those perhaps who are not so kind. Withstanding that, over the past seven years I have not only found my church family, but I truly believe I have found my tribe in Kings Church Aberdeen.
I have been blessed to have found a Pastor who has been instrumental in building both my confidence and my faith. As a former GP, he has an understanding of my condition and the challenges it can bring. His open, welcoming demeanor and smile made me feel immediately at ease. I found it unusually easy to open up completely and honestly about my chequered past. Being brutally honest with Pastor Iain from the beginning, I now believe that it was the start of my understanding that God’s grace and forgiveness is available to each of us. Not once since opening up to him have I ever had a feeling of contempt or worthlessness from him, only understanding, compassion and a message of hope and forgiveness. I have nothing but admiration for Pastor Iain Duthie and his crazy, fun wife Elizabeth. God bless them both.
Faith, Forgiveness and The Future
I can never repay the grace shown to me by God. I wandered off the straight and narrow paths and lived in ways that were not pleasing to Him but through it all He saw me and offered me forgiveness-something that I often felt I didn’t deserve, especially considering the offence that put me in prison. From the minute I sobered up and was told what I did to a police officer I was absolutely disgusted by my actions. I have never once questioned the sentence of eight months. I have regretted my actions every day of my life. On release and beginning to attend church regularly a few months later, while I had confessed my sins to God and through being truly remorseful, I felt a level of forgiveness from God but to be honest I couldn’t forgive myself. I had developed a good relationship with the police officer dealing with my case. I often asked if he could tell me the name of the officer involved so I could write an apology but due to data protection he was unable to. I asked if I wrote an email to her, would he be able to forward it on. He agreed. I sat and poured my heart out of my regret and the disgust and how sorry I was. I told her about my alcohol addiction and the assault in Ayrshire which led to the diagnosis six months into my prison sentence. I told her that I had completely stopped drinking and was turning my life around, I told her that I understood if she couldn’t forgive me for my actions but felt that at the very least, she was owed an apology. The email was forwarded and a day went by, then she responded with these words “Thank you for your email, I have read it and understand and I forgive you”. I will be honest here, whilst I felt a level of forgiveness from God, to be offered forgiveness from the actual person who, due to my actions I was sent to jail for, means so much more to me. Forgiveness has to be a reciprocal process. I have thought long and hard about the stranger who brutally assaulted me with the bottle for no reason and as strange as it may sound that was an easy one for me to forgive. Not only have I forgiven whoever it was but thanked them, for in a bizarre way whoever did it saved my life. Without the chain of events that followed, I would never have been diagnosed with Wilsons Disease at that time and in that place of punishment. Forgiving my ex wife was a little tougher to do, certainly at the beginning of the abject heartbreak I was experiencing but now I have no ill feelings towards her and am eternally grateful for the great job of bringing up my son.
Fairly recently, my abusive Stepfather came into my thoughts even though he’s long since passed away. At the time I hadn’t given him much thought but on reflection it became apparent to me how much his treatment of me and the shooting of my father had ingrained a deep resentment within me. I sat quietly one night and prayed for guidance and I was overcome with how much of an overwhelming release I felt by forgiving him and the knowledge that he no longer has a hold over me. Without being able to forgive others, I had no right to expect God or indeed others to forgive me. I finally felt that I could start working on forgiving myself.
Telling my life’s story like this in 2026 after 8 years of sobriety openly and honestly hasn’t been easy for me to do. I admit that there’s a real fear of being judged but I feel that it’s an important part of sharing hope to those who have none. My Faith in God has given me hope and a second chance to go out and make a difference to the way that faith, Jesus, and church is viewed by those in the grips of the darkness of addiction or health issues. I have beaten alcohol and its demons. And with the exception of the normal accepted scarring, my liver cirrhosis is all but gone, I am healthy and blessed to be able to volunteer throughout the year for charities which are close to me. Involved in hospitality at both Kings and another local church. I volunteer for various Cancer Charities throughout the year, including raising £1260 for Cancer Research UK from my three months of walking the streets with a fundraising bucket and a bake sale around 6 years ago, having lost my Mum, Dad and wonderful Father in Law to Lung Cancer. I am extremely grateful to have been given the opportunity to become a volunteer for Bethany Christian Trust, the charity that has been a steadfast, constant in my life’s recovery. I love being part of the Toastie Club team who are on intent on treating each person who comes through the door of the Toastie Club with dignity, respect, encouragement, care and kindness. The fact that Bethany Christian Trust’s mission statement is to end homelessness in Scotland makes it all the more rewarding. I am also so grateful to be given the opportunity to use my lived experience at The Bridge To Freedom recovery course, in the hope of helping others who struggle with addiction and showing that recovery is possible. If I can help one single person in their struggles by sharing the peace I have found in my life, that I never thought possible, that makes it worth it.
To close, I was broken, had an addiction, went to prison, I was homeless, I had a condition with no cure then I got to know Jesus, He changed my life. Now I have a home, a faith, a perfectly working liver, and a loving church family – but importantly a new hope for the next chapter of my journey. If I can offer any help to those who think they’re not going to get through the trials of life, I am living proof of hope, and that salvation, freedom and forgiveness is available to each and every one of us. Don’t allow society to label you, as I have been blessed with a new identity… I am a child of God… Hallelujah.
‘Tetelestai’ Paid In Full
