1 Corinthians 15:10 (New International Version)
But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to
me was not without effect. No, I worked harder than all of them—yet not I, but
the grace of God that was with me.
I was born in 1725, and I died 1807. The only godly
influence in my life, as far back as I can remember, was my mother, whom I had
for only seven years. When she left my life through death, I was virtually an
orphan.
My father remarried, sent me to a strict military school,
where the severity of discipline almost broke my back. I couldn't stand it any
longer, and I left in rebellion at the age of ten. One year later, deciding
that I would never enter formal education again, I became a seaman apprentice,
hoping somehow to step into my father's trade and learn at least the ability to
skillfully navigate a ship.
By and by, through a process of time, I slowly gave
myself over to the devil. And I determined that I would sin to my fill without
restraint, now that the righteous lamp of my life had gone out. I did that
until my days in the military service, where again discipline worked hard
against me, but I further rebelled.
My spirit would not break, and I became increasingly more
and more a rebel. Because of a number of things that I disagreed with in the
military, I finally deserted, only to be captured like a common criminal and
beaten publicly several times.
After enduring the punishment, I again fled. I
entertained thoughts of suicide on my way to Africa, deciding that would be the
place I could get farthest from anyone that knew me. And again I made a pact
with the devil to live for him.
Somehow, through a process of events, I got in touch with
a Portuguese slave trader, and I lived in his home. His wife, who was brimming
with hostility, took a lot out on me. She beat me, and I ate like a dog on the
floor of the home. If I refused to do that, she would whip me with a lash.
I fled penniless, owning only the clothes on my back, to
the shoreline of Africa where I built a fire, hoping to attract a ship that was
passing by. The skipper thought that I had gold or slaves or ivory to sell and
was surprised because I was a skilled navigator. And it was there that I
virtually lived for a long period of time. It was a slave ship.
I went through all sorts of narrow escapes with death
only a hairbreadth away on a number of occasions. One time I opened some crates
of rum and got everybody on the crew drunk. The skipper, incensed with my
actions, beat me, threw me down below, and I lived on stale bread and sour
vegetables for an unendurable amount of time. He brought me above to beat me
again, and I fell overboard. Because I couldn't swim, he harpooned me to get me
back on the ship. And I lived with the scar in my side, big enough for me to
put my fist into, until the day of my death.
On board, I was inflamed with fever. I was enraged with
the humiliation. A storm broke out, and I wound up again in the hold of the
ship, down among the pumps. To keep the ship afloat, I worked along as a
servant of the slaves. There, bruised and confused, bleeding, diseased, I was
the epitome of the degenerate man. I remembered the words of my mother. I cried
out to God, the only way I knew, calling upon His grace and His mercy to
deliver me, and upon His son to save me. The only glimmer of light I would find
was in a crack in the ship in the floor above me, and I looked up to it and
screamed for help. God heard me.
Thirty-one years passed, I married a childhood
sweetheart. I entered the ministry. In every place that I served, rooms had to
be added to the building to handle the crowds that came to hear the gospel that
was presented and the story of God's grace in my life. My tombstone above my
head reads, "Born 1725, died 1807. A clerk, once an infidel and libertine,
a servant of slaves in Africa, was by the rich mercy of our Lord and Savior,
Jesus Christ, preserved, restored, pardoned, and appointed to preach the faith
he once long labored to destroy."
I decided before my death to put my life's story in
verse. And that verse has become a hymn.
My name?
John Newton.
The hymn?
"Amazing Grace."
Dear Lord we thank You for Your amazing grace. We pray that
we would always remember what You have done for us in the good times and the
bad times. In Jesus’ name, Amen.