Jane’s story

Neill Shaw reflects on a life transformed by God.

THE Church of Scotland Priority Areas annual conference, the Big Conversation, takes place every November.

It is a gathering where those living, working, and worshipping in the Church’s Priority Areas come together to connect, learn, and be inspired. The 2023 Big Conversation featured a line-up of impressive speakers, but one voice resonated with me: Jane’s. Amidst the formal presentations, Jane’s raw honesty about her life in a community marred by generational poverty and stigma, and her faith in Jesus, left a profound impact.

Intrigued, I met Jane at her local community centre, where she and her minister, David, run a drop-in café.

Jane told me her story with a mix of pain and hope: “I was born and bred in this scheme. It’s where I belong, though life here hasn’t been easy. My dad was an alcoholic and a violent one at that. When I was just 10, the court ordered him to stay away from us and we never saw him again. The scars of that violence shaped much of my early life.

“By the time I reached high school, I was already skipping classes regularly, wandering the streets instead of sitting in a classroom. There was no joy in school for me, except for history and art, but even that wasn’t enough to keep me there. We had to pay £1.50 for home economics classes and we couldn’t afford it, so I didn’t go. Eventually, my guidance teacher told me there was ‘no point coming to school anymore.’ I remember walking out that day, feeling like the world had given up on me.

“At home, things were no better. My mum, affected by life with my dad, turned to alcohol. She was working in pubs, which made it easy for her to drink. Home didn’t feel safe. I ended up in a residential home, but I kept running away from there too. Even in care, I preferred the streets, where at least I could feel some control over my life.

“I didn’t touch alcohol or drugs, unlike many others around me. I’d seen the damage it could do, and I wanted no part of it. But that didn’t mean life was any easier. I slept in train stations, shop doorways, wherever I could find a bit of shelter. The police would often bring me back to the scheme, assuming I was up to no good.

“I never thought about church much back then. Once, a few friends and I went to the local chapel on Christmas Eve, hoping to get a selection box after the service. But one of us accidentally hit the power button on a ghetto-blaster, and the priest was furious and we were thrown out, no selection boxes in sight.

“Another time, we tried our luck at a fancy church in town. But as we approached, all posh people in fancy clothes and snooty voices, the man at the door said: ‘Sorry, no room,’ and slammed the door in our faces; we felt like outcasts.

“The first time I really encountered Christians who were different was when YWAM (Youth With A Mission) moved into a close where my friend lived. At first, they tried to chase us away, but we told them: ‘This is our territory.’ After that, they changed. They started letting us in when it was cold, giving us tea and toast. Their house was a mismatched jumble of furniture, but it was peaceful —a peace I didn’t understand at the time. They never pushed their faith on us, but we knew they were Christians by how they lived. I noticed.

“Years later, when I was about 18 or 19, I met Doc, an outreach worker from the local Church of Scotland. He started a youth club called Project Hope, and it became a place of refuge for me and my friends. Doc was like a living Bible —through him, we saw Jesus. It wasn’t just the words he spoke, but how he lived his life that taught us about faith. We even went on a trip to Romania because of Doc. It was amazing.

“But then Doc left and the youth club shut down. For years, I drifted away from everything I’d learned. Then, out of the blue, I felt a deep longing to know more about God. It was like a hunger, an excitement I couldn’t ignore.

“Not long after, amazing, I ran into Doc. He invited me to a bible study at his house. I was desperate to go, so I took a taxi there, even though it was far away. My old life started to fade away, and in 2007, I became a Christian. It was the result of all those seeds planted years ago through Project Hope.

“By becoming a Christian, life didn’t suddenly get easy. Telling my family was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. My mum was furious —she called me a turncoat, said I’d abandoned my roots, that I’d been brainwashed. My whole family turned against me.

But the hunger for Jesus kept me going. I started attending the Church of Scotland regularly, where I knew people from the Bible study. It was a tough decision, but I had to follow where God was leading me.

“Slowly, my life began to change. Not overnight, but gradually, as I spent more time with Jesus, I saw the world differently. I wanted to serve Him, to live my life for Him. I moved away from the scheme for eight years, joined another church, and grew in my faith. But eventually, I knew I had to come back—this is where I belong.

“When I returned, the Church of Scotland here was just a small group of pensioners. They welcomed me in, and I started to learn from the man who preached each week. They tried to do outreach, but their energy was limited. Then David came along, and everything changed.

“David was different —he was one of us. We called him the ‘cool dude minister’ because he dressed like us, talked like us, and walked the streets every day, meeting people, talking about Jesus. He made church something real, something alive. It wasn’t just about Sunday mornings in a building; it was about being Jesus in the community, in the streets, up the closes, in people’s flats.

That’s what was needed here.

“Now, with the drop-in café, holiday clubs, youth clubs, and the walks through the scheme, we’re reaching people in a way that truly matters.

“Looking back, I can see how God was always drawing me to Himself, even when I didn’t realise it. He was patient, persistent, and loving. And here I am today, walking with Him, trying to share that love with others in this community.”

I had the privilege of visiting Jane and David at the drop-in café earlier this year. The room was filled with ordinary people, many struggling with addiction, trauma and loss; but a sense of warmth, laughter and joy was unmistakable. Worship music played softly in the background, and at one point, David gathered everyone around to read from the Gospel of John, sharing the story of Jesus washing His disciples’ feet. What followed was an open, honest, and raw conversation about how Jesus’ love can change lives.

If you’re searching for Jesus, you might find Him at the drop-in, or walking the streets of the scheme, talking to people. Jesus is alive and active here, in the most unlikely of places.