‘Not another bad-arse-finding-God story?’ I hear you say. Well, it is something like that with a couple of twists. You see, I was and still am a bikie; still ride and still belong to a club. We used to see the God Squad ride up to the club house and we would shake our heads and say, ‘Here come the God Botherers.’ You see, life was very good for me doing things bikies do, but that is another story.

Then like all parents, I got the phone call we all dread. One of my kids was in trouble and tried to kill herself. She was interstate so I got straight on the bike to see what I could do. If you have ever sat on a bike for ten hours you would know that you have a lot of time to think and no matter what, I couldn’t think of a single thing I could do to help her. I tried to do the usual things parents do – blaming myself. Did I do the right things when she was growing up? Was I there enough for her? But nothing seemed to stand out so after many hours of soul searching. I pulled up at one of those parking areas making sure no one was about, and I asked God if he could help a ‘low life’ like me to find an answer to my problems, knowing I had no right to ask for any favours, but maybe this was God’s way of telling me to get my act together.

Now there was no miracle cure, but she got through and four years later she is still with us even though she still struggles; and God is still with me – why I don’t know because I am not the disciple I should be. I don’t talk to my mate about my faith. I have cleaned up my act and with the help I have had from so many great people plus the knowledge that my sins have been forgiven and God is still forgiving the sins I still commit – this gets me through everyday. At Mass every week I still ask God could he help me stop putting myself first and think of others first. I list the sins that I commit and try to find a way to stop. That is still one of many things I have to overcome in trying to live the Christian life. It’s been four long years since my daughter encouraged me to come into full communion with the Catholic Church, and people tell me it does not become any easier but with God’s love, and help I still might make it.

→ Ken’s Story