My Testimony

Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, "Eli, Eli, Lama Sabachthani?" that's is, "My God, My God, Why hast Thou forsaken Me?". Matthew 27: 46

I was the last born of four children, born in 1960 on the "now famous, Robben Island," which is just off the shores of Cape Town. For this was the Island that our present President, Mr. Nelson Mandela spent a large part of his life. Arriving ten years after, I was already blessed with a sister (Melody) and two brothers (Boyd and Brin), who were twins. Both Brin and Boyd, died tragic deaths. (Please read my dedication to them) | Boyd | & | Brin |

My father, who was 17 years my mother's senior, was in the Lighthouse service, and so we moved about fairly often, more so, before my birth. After Robben Island, we moved to another Island, "Dassen Island" and then, when I was five, we moved to a small fishing village called "Kommetjie". Kommetjie was, and still is a renowned surfing spot on a worldly scale, and also well known for the Crayfish (Rock Lobster) that is found in abundance, whether from a boat or diving. Our front door led to the ocean, while our back door led to the mountains. It was a very small, quiet and somewhat lazy village that had a sort of innocence attached to it, that made it a ideal place for a child to grow up in. Free from all the ugliness of the "real world".

At the age of seven, my father retired from the Lighthouse service and we moved to a lovely house on the footsteps of Kommetjie mountain, that had a grand view of the vast Atlantic ocean. This was where my father suffered a "Stroke" and other complications set in. He never fully recovered, and when we moved once more, still within Kommetjie, he passed away at the age of 68, when I was fourteen.
This was to be a turning point in my life. I became rebellious, and my poor mother, who had taken over the parenting job, had her hands full with my misbehavior. I began to drive the car at this age, and began to sneak into the local hotel bar. At first, this all seemed just innocent fun, but as the years passed, the more I frequented the bar, and I also began to smoke, skipping school regularly and got into all sorts of mischief. Midway through standard nine (grade 11), I gave up on school. So for the next six months I became a beach bum. I surfed, fished, partied and drank. Life seemed so 'cool'. In January 1978, I started a trade in the South African Navy, in Simonstown as a 'Pattern Maker'. Work was not all that grand, it got in the way of my lifestyle. I couldn't do the things I enjoyed so much.... Being a beach bum.... Although I disliked school, I think I preferred it to working... Work did have it's perks however, money to spend. I bought a Motor Bike, and so became more independent. Eventually my first car, and second came along, oh, and then the drivers license.

Later in 1978, I fell head over heels in love with a local girl and gave up the pub and even my surfing and friends took a back seat. Six months later, we were engaged. In January 1980, we broke up, which caused me to return to the pub and the friends I seemed to have left behind. On the 9th February 1980, I entered a surfing competition, and after doing well, decided to celebrate at a hotel in Hout Bay. Hout Bay is about 20 kilometers from Kommetjie, but has a beautiful, scenic, yet treacherous drive which winds around a mountain, hundreds of meters above the ocean. Not the ideal road to drive while under the influence of alcohol.
At approximately 10:30 pm, I left the hotel, on that evening which was to change my life forever. I don't recall much from that stage on. Apparently, I had somehow (God's intervention, maybe) left my friends behind, and driven that mountain pass on my own. How I didn't managed to drive my car over those treacherous cliffs, I will never know, but as soon as I drove onto the flat straight road through Noordhoek, I lost control of the car and smashed into a tree, causing the car to split in two, wheels sheared off, and the roof was torn off and hanging in branches of a tree.
(Read my "Drinking and Driving - Is it Worth it?" Page)

According to reports, I was helped by some strangers, that had been close behind me when I had the accident. They had called the ambulance and police. The ambulance rushed me to False Bay Hospital. The only visible injuries, was a cut on my forehead just above my hairline, and my nose was almost sheared off. I think the Doctors and nursing staff had also taken it for granted that I was just another drunken driver, who had sustained facial injuries, as no x-rays were taken. I must have come around as the Doctor stitched my nose back on, because I do recall trying to move, but couldn't. "The legs would not move". When I informed them of this, the panic buttons sounded and I was rushed to Groote Schuur Hospital, where x-rays revealed that I had indeed broken my back. The following morning, I was moved to Conradie Hospital, which was to be my home for the next four months. Conradie Hospital was the only Spinal Center in South Africa in the 1980's. Patients from all over South Africa were brought there. Dr. Levitt was assigned as my Doctor, and he uttered those dreaded words to my family. "Greg will never walk again." He explained all the details of my injuries to them.

For the next month I lay in the Intensive Care Unit, with all the noises of heart monitors, suction pumps, plus the drips that were feeding me, neck brace on for safety purposes, and mirrors above my head, my only way of seeing to my left or right. The Physiotherapist, although a pretty young woman, was not my favorite visitor, as she would climb on a chair and torture me, as she worked on clearing my chest. Mom stayed by my bedside for almost the entire month, only going home to sleep. I was not taking the news about my disability very well, as I just could not imagine what life was going to be like without the use of my legs. I was filled with self pity, and felt as if I was the worst off person in the whole wide world. Those all to familiar words "Why me", were constantly on my mind. I guess this was natural, I was only nineteen and turned twenty while still in ICU. were constantly on my mind. I guess this was natural, I was only nineteen and turned twenty while still in ICU. were constantly on my mind. I guess this was natural, I was only nineteen and turned twenty while still in ICU. were constantly on my mind. I guess this was natural, I was only nineteen and turned twenty while still in ICU. were constantly on my mind. I guess this was natural, I was only nineteen and turned twenty while still in ICU.

Eventually, I was shifted into the general ward, where approximately eleven others lay, ranging in age from a sixty year old man to a fourteen year old boy. There were Paraplegic's and Quadriplegic's and some "Out-patients" who had come in for check ups. For the first couple of days, I was in tears and wanted to move back to the ICU, due to the noise. The young boy of fourteen, was to change my outlook on life. I had been so full of self pity, that I was blinded by the fact that their were others worse off than myself. This young boy, was paralyzed from the neck down, unable to do even the smallest of tasks that we all take for granted. An itchy nose, had now become a major obstacle for him. I recall him asking me to ring the bell, to call a nurse to come and scratch his itchy nose. It was then that I realized how fortunate I was, that I had the use of my arms.

I was given "Joni Eareckson's" first book, about her story, and her battles with life, and God, and how she overcame her ordeal. Her book was a great inspiration to me.
After 3 months of lying on my back and sides, being lifted and turned every four hours into a new position, the noises and smells of hospital life, came the big day. I was to get up. For three days prior to getting up, my bed was tilted, so I got accustomed to being more upright and overcome the dizziness that was inevitable. The wheelchair arrived, and with great care I was lifted and placed into the chair. That first day, I hated every second I spent in the chair, wanting only to get back into the comfort of my bed. After a few days, I was up early, outside and enjoying the wonderful smell of fresh morning air, touching the frost covered grass. All of these wonderful sights, smells and touch, seemed a new experience to me. Soon, I was maneuvering around in my chair like a veteran, and going to the Physiotherapy department to build up my muscles. I had turned into a 120 pound weakling, skin and bones, not the muscular young man that all my sporting life had turned me into. I was now to adapt, as all the things that I had taken for granted, now became a new challenge, from climbing out of bed, to going up or down stairs, which was one of the major obstacles to overcome.

Finally the day came for me to leave. This was one of the greatest days in my life, to travel in the car, and see the sights we passed by, almost as if they were new, and that I had never seen them before. Arriving home, and feeling a stranger as even the family dogs, (Shane and JR) didn't recognize me. That first night home, in my own bed was such a wonderful feeling.

After a month, I (with the help of Melody), got a job interview in the Hydrographic Department in the South African Navy. I was excepted, and worked there for ten years. I also bought a car that had to be adapted for me, and this gave me more freedom to get around and about. I continued to frequent the pubs, and even fell out of my chair on a few occasions.

In 1982, I had another bad car accident. This time I broke a leg, so back into hospital for another three months. I had surgery on the leg, with pins and plates inserted to stabilize it. This second accident was my wake up call. I believe God was trying to tell me something, something that I didn't see, or chose not to see. At work one day, I was offered a pamphlet by a colleague. The pamphlet was about a Christian revival that was being held at the Green Point Stadium. A well-known evangelist, Pastor Reinhardt Bonnke, was going to be the preacher, but all I noticed was that he performed miracles. I wanted to go. I wanted to get out of my chair. I was eager, and mom came with. The sermon he preached, and the songs they sung were of no interest to me, and to this day, I don't recall what it was about, but as soon as he called up those that needed Physical healing, I was all ears, and raced through the crowd to be healed. As I moved through the ever growing crowd, a voice spoke to me so clearly, that I even looked around to see who it was talking to me. Suddenly I realized, that the voice I was hearing, was within me. The voice said: "Greg, seek first Spiritual healing, before Physical healing". These words repeated over and over, as I made my way to the large line of people that had formed, and I felt the warmth come over me. Warmth that was from only one source, JESUS CHRIST our LORD...

I sat in my chair, waiting for Pastor Bonnke, as he prayed over everyone in that line. I remember a woman, about six or seven places before me, being asked to climb out of her chair and walk. She did, and the crowd roared with the joy of Christ, as she was healed. It was then that a prayer was uttered deep within me. I was asking for Pastor Bonnke to pass me... "WHY ?" I wanted healing, so why was I praying for him to move pass me ? He got closer, and still this prayer continued. Soon I looked up, and he had passed me. I didn't feel cheated, unseen or unworthy, but rather becalmed and content. God's peace, I believe had descended over me.

Soon, Pastor Bonnke was asking those that wanted Jesus Christ to enter their lives to come forward. I stayed, and when he prayed over me, I felt the presence of God enter me and lighting up my life. But God had always been there, it was just that I had blocked Him out for so long, that I didn't allow Him to shine.

Many years have passed by since I received Christ as my Savior, and I have had many trials to endure in that period, ranging from more visits to hospital, to even stopping going to church. I had learned to play the guitar, and had played in the Youth Group in the evening service. I had also taught Sunday School and later the Bible Class, plus being a leader on our Friday evening Youth Group, and going on many retreats, yet I sometimes have allowed the bright light of Jesus, to dim, but I have faith that His light will continue to shine, and as I steadily move forward, with His power and strength, His light will get brighter and stronger in my life, that I will become more "Christ like" in my walk with Him.

For is this not what a Christians walk with Christ entails ? To allow Him to guide us, protect us, feed us with knowledge, strengthen us, break and mold us into a precious stone, crystal clear and finely honed.

As the wonderful chorus goes:
Something beautiful, something good.
All my confusion, He understood.
All I had to offer Him, was brokenness and strife.
But He made something beautiful of my life.

I thank you dearly for your time.
God bless you all in the name of Jesus
Gregory Murray

If you are at a point in your life as I was, then I strongly recommend Joni Eareckson's books.. They were and still are a great source of inspiration.
"Joni" by Joni Eareckson and Joe Musser. (1976)
"A Step Further" by Joni Eareckson and Steve Estes. (1978)

Page Created: 16 August, 1997
Last Modified: 06 June, 2004