Cited in Practical Christianity October 1919, p21 published by the Officers’ Christian Union (now the Armed Forces’ Christian Union).
I passed through Sandhurst during the 1870’s, a time when its moral atmosphere was poor, but I was kept from outward sin. I even became a church communicant, though I did not grasp the meaning of “draw near with faith.” When I joined my regiment, I was enthusiastic about military life and sport but lacked peace or true happiness. I enjoyed society life and attended many dances, but I vividly recall standing in a ballroom one night, feeling how empty it all was. Outwardly, I had everything; inwardly, I was restless. I had given up obvious wrong but knew very little of real faith—and would have welcomed someone speaking to me about my soul.
Once, when serving in Ireland, I heard a clergyman preach and was invited to his home. In conversation, I realised how ignorant I was of the basics of Christianity. He spoke of salvation through simple faith in Christ, not by personal effort. It seemed like a new language. I had been striving for peace on my own, and here was grace offered as a gift. I asked, “What must I do to be saved?” and, before he could answer, I added, “You’ll say, ‘Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.’” He replied, “Yes—I have no other gospel to offer.”
That night, though not immediately filled with peace, I began to see life differently and searched the Bible for truth. A few weeks later, I stayed for Communion after a church service. Afterwards, an officer I didn’t yet know invited me to a Bible reading. I was anxious—my own company would be marching past—but I went, despite fearing ridicule. How bold we can be in wrongdoing, yet timid about doing right.
I remember little of the study itself, but afterwards, a major asked if I knew Christ as Saviour. I said I longed to but didn’t yet. He read to me from 1 John, and it helped. Another young officer later asked me, “When did you decide for Christ?” I couldn’t answer clearly, but I knew I wanted to trust Him.
One day, alone in a friend’s hut, I heard someone singing, “O Happy Day that fixed my choice…” The singer, an officer unaware I was there, expressed something I deeply longed for. His consistent life later became a great help to me.
There was no dramatic moment of conversion, but I came to say, like the man in John’s Gospel, “One thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see.” The fear of others’ opinions began to fade.
More than forty years have passed. I’ve had many failures since but never regret the step I took as a young subaltern. May my story help someone else battling with sin to find peace in Christ.
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