Written by Ps Llewellyn Roberts
Article provided by Good Hope Christian Centre
I was lost to my family for over 30 years. I lived a life of drugs, alcohol, violence, and darkness. I worked as a bouncer on nightclub doors and as an illegal debt collector. I was far from God, far from peace, and far from the man I was created to be. I loved my mother, but I loved the life I was living even more.
A mother’s reserved seat
For many years, I only went to church twice a year: on Mother’s Day and on my mother’s birthday. My mom would always keep a seat for me. One Mother’s Day, I went to church. The building was packed. As I made my way down towards the front to sit with my mom, a deacon tried to stop me. He said there were no seats left near the front. I tried to explain, but he would not listen. In my rage, I punched him in the face and then went and sat down next to my mother. When he stood up, bruised and bleeding, and saw me sitting beside her, only then did he realise that I was her wayward son, the one everyone had been praying for.
Another reluctant visit
Months later, in September, it was my mother’s birthday, so again I went to church. I arrived late because I had been out all night and was still hungover. I sat down beside my mother. My father, the pastor, would always make an altar call near the end of the service, and he would say to the congregation, “Be an evangelist. Turn to the person next to you and ask them if they want to receive Jesus.”
A violent heart exposed
That Sunday, my mom was sitting on my left, and on my right was a young blonde-haired man. It was a cold morning, and under my jacket I was wearing a shoulder holster with my 9mm pistol. I remember thinking, I hope this young guy doesn’t ask me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw beads of sweat running down his forehead as he tried to gather the courage to obey what my father had said. Finally, trembling, he turned to me and stammered, “Do… do you… do you want to give your life to Jesus?” I gave him my hardest, angriest look. Then I pulled back my jacket, showed him my gun, and said, “Do you want to see Him?” Quietly, he answered, “No.” That was the kind of man I was.
Mistaken for a believer
As I was leaving the church that same day, the finance director saw me sitting next to my mom and asked, “Are you Pastor Fred’s son?” I said yes. He assumed that because I was the pastor’s son, I must be a Christian. He asked me if I would help count the offering. I said, “Amen.”
Stealing from the offering
They took me into an office, dumped the offering in front of me, and walked out. So I started counting: R100 for Jesus, R100 for me. R50 for Jesus, R50 for me. I left that church with my pockets full of money, and I did not feel bad at all. In my heart, I believed the church owed me. I felt the church had stolen my parents from me, so I stole back from the church. That was the darkness I was living in. But my life kept getting worse.
A mother’s surrender
Then one day my mother prayed a prayer that changed everything. She said, “Lord, I gave Llewellyn to You when he was a little boy. You deal with him. He’s Yours.” From that day on, whenever she saw me, she would say, “Llewellyn, you’re a man of God.” She did not speak darkness over me. She spoke light. She spoke love. She spoke destiny. She called me what God had called me, even when my life looked like the exact opposite.
The darkest night
Six weeks later, I was alone in a cold, dark, empty flat. My life had collapsed into despair. I had reached the end. I looked out the window into the darkness and said to God, “You are not a God of love. You are a God of fear. I was molested in Your church. Your church took my parents from me. And tonight, I am committing suicide, and I am coming to look You in the face and tell You that You are a liar. You are not love.”
A call at the edge
I had set up a table covered with drugs, piles of cocaine, and pills. I decided that if I was going to die, I was going to die high. I did the first line of cocaine, and suddenly the phone began to ring. That shrill sound would not stop. So I walked over, picked it up, and it was a friend I had once run with. We had bought guns and explosives together. But now he was a Christian.
Mercy in one cry
He said only one sentence:
“Llewellyn, Jesus really loves you.” I slammed down the phone. But as I turned and walked back towards that table to die, I heard a voice. Not a harsh voice. Not an angry voice. A soft, tender voice. It said, “Just call on Me one more time. Just one more time.” I fell to my knees and cried out, “JESUS, SON OF DAVID, HAVE MERCY ON ME!” And He did.
Changed in a moment
On my knees, I felt what seemed like wind blow over me. It felt like wind, but it washed me like water. Then I felt this warm love flood through me. In a moment, something inside me changed. I was not the same man anymore. The darkness that had ruled me was broken, and a hunger was born in me to know the God who really did love me.
Hungry for the Word
I ran to my parents’ flat, picked the lock, and went inside. I looked for my father’s Bible, but I could not read it. The words were blurry to me. The Bible says that the god of this world has blinded the minds of unbelievers so they cannot see the light of the glorious Gospel. But I found my father’s eight-track tape of the Bible, and I listened to it again and again: Matthew. Mark. Luke. John. I was hungry for truth.
Darkness all around
Later, I went into my parents’ room. They were overseas at the time, and I was under police investigation. I had also been involved with a girl who was a witch. She practiced incantations and read tarot cards. There was so much darkness around my life. I fell asleep on my mother’s bed.
A demonic encounter
Then I woke up and saw a dark creature next to the bed. It had a long tongue and was licking my hand. As I came fully awake, it stood up. It was enormous, its head nearly touching the high ceiling, with huge blue eyes. It looked down at me with contempt. My body had no strength. It felt like some giant force was pinning me down. In my mind I heard, “Just fall into the darkness. Just fall into the darkness.” Then that dark being said to me, over and over, “Give me yourself – spirit, soul, and body – and I will give you everything you desire.”
The power of His Name
But deep inside me, I heard that same tender, loving voice again: “Just use My Name, Llewellyn. Just use My Name.” And I shouted, “IN THE NAME OF JESUS, WHOSE I AM, I COMMAND YOU: GO! IN JESUS’ NAME!”
Free at last
Immediately, I was free. Joy flooded me. Peace overwhelmed me. Jesus set me free – from fear, drugs, alcohol, darkness, and death. All because my mother prayed, handed me over to the Lord, and refused to give up on me.
My mother’s miracle
That night, I became the miracle my mother had prayed for. I am my mother’s miracle. So to every mother, and to every parent praying for a lost child: Never give up. Never stop praying. Never stop speaking life. Never stop believing God.
Never stop praying
No matter how far gone they seem, no matter how dark their life has become, and no matter how many years have passed, Jesus is still able to save. I was 40 years old when Jesus found me and set me free.
This article is featured in the May 2026 issue of JOY! Magazine. Read a digital version of this magazine here: joygifts.co.za
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Date published: 04/05/2026
Feature images sourced from original article
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