Peter 

The Testimony of our dear friend Peter Bennett. Peter and his wife Libbie are missionaries in Tasmania supported by MEC
 

Transcript of the video

Good morning, MEC! It’s a beautiful day here in Tasmania. Roy, I’m doing what you asked — it’s taken me a little while, but here we are.

For me, life didn’t start easy. I never met my parents. I grew up without a mum or dad, raised in homes across England. Some of the people who looked after us were kind, and some were very cruel.

To cut a long story short, before I came to know Jesus, I had three hates in life: I hated God, I hated women, and I hated the police.

I won’t go into all the details of my background, but I was part of a gang. I rode motorbikes — one of them was a BSA, a good bike 60 years ago. One day it caught fire and needed repairing. A mate said, “If you want to keep up with the gang, you’ll need to get that fixed. Go see a bloke named Charlie.”

So I went to find him. Back then, I had long hair, I never showered, and I lived rough. We didn’t like “normal” people. We were just doing whatever we wanted, living wild.

When I found Charlie’s place, it unsettled me — there was no easy way out if I needed to run. He answered the door, took one look at me, and said, “What do you want?”
I said, “Can you fix my bike?”

He looked it over and said, “I can, but you’ll have to stay here a couple of days.” I swore at him — and he promptly smacked me across the mouth. “We don’t use that language here,” he said. He was lucky I didn’t hit back — I could fight in those days — but I wanted my bike fixed.

Then his wife came out — Auntie Olive. They had no children. She was one of the kindest, most delightful women I’d ever met. She said, “Who’s this young man, Charlie?”
He said, “I don’t know. Don’t even know his name.”
She smiled and asked, “What’s your name, dear?”
I said, “Benny.” (That was my nickname.)
Charlie said, “He’ll be staying here a couple of nights.”

I didn’t like that — I thought he could fix the bike in an hour! But I went along with it. Auntie Olive showed me to a clean, white room — a real bed, sheets, everything spotless. I wasn’t used to that kind of kindness.

While Charlie worked on the bike, Olive taught me to play board games — Sorry and Monopoly. She never judged me. She didn’t care that I was a criminal or that I looked rough. She just treated me like a human being.

When the bike was finally fixed, I was ready to leave. But Charlie said, “No, you’re staying another night. Tomorrow you’re coming with us to a Pentecostal church.”

I thought “Pentecostal” was a nightclub! I argued, but he said, “If you want your bike, you’re coming.” So I was blackmailed into going to church.

When we got there, I refused to go in at first. I stood outside, lit a cigarette, and cursed the day I was born. I was angry — really angry. But eventually, I went inside.

The place was full — young people everywhere, men on one side, women on the other. I couldn’t believe it. I marched right up to the front row, still fuming. I didn’t sing, didn’t care, just wanted to get out of there.

I remember thinking, When that preacher finishes, I’m going to hit him. That’s how I lived — you hurt people before they hurt you.

But then, something happened. The preacher stopped mid-sermon. He walked over to me, started to cry, and said:

“Young man, God loves you. God loves you.”

No one had ever said that to me before — not in 19 years. And in that moment, God reached me. Something broke inside, and I said, “I want what you’re talking about.”

Charlie took me aside and led me in prayer. But truthfully, I already knew — I was saved right then. I met Jesus, and I’ve loved Him ever since.

I’ve never cared much for denominations, but I’ve always loved Jesus. Charlie and Olive took me in. They had no children, and I lived with them until Charlie passed away a couple of years ago, well into his 90s. They became like a father and mother to me.

Through Jesus, I learned to love women, to love God, and even to respect the police. My attitude changed completely.

The pastor that day — Uncle Austin Hartright — asked me to pray. I didn’t know how. I prayed in my own words, and they gently stopped me, saying, “We don’t use those words here, dear.” That was the start of my journey.

That little church has grown into what’s now MEC Church — and I’m now 85 years old. They’ve stood with my wife and me all our lives. They pray for us every day and keep in touch constantly. It’s been amazing.

When I became a Christian, I especially thanked God for women — for all the godly women who became like mothers to me: Miss Treadwell, Miss Barbara, Auntie Alice, Mrs. Styles, and Miss Hyde. They had such discernment — they always seemed to know what I was thinking and offered encouragement and love that shone through everything.

I’m so grateful today — grateful that Jesus came into my life. I love Him dearly.

And I thank you, Roy, and everyone at MEC Church. You’ve stood with us through thick and thin. We pray for you and your ministry every day. We believe God is going to bless and use you greatly in your time with that church.

Amen. Thank you.