Beverley Murray
writes
Billy Acheson became a member of DCF Newtownabbey in 1989 and faithfully supported the work of DCF.
In 1990 he first went on holiday with the Branch and this became a regular event.
Billy took part in the meetings and shared his many talents with us.
He loved the Holiday Home in Newcastle and took his tool box with him to help with little odd jobs.
It was with a great sense of sadness that the Newtownabbey Branch were told of his death during their holiday in 2005 but the members were comforted to know that he was "at home with the Lord".
As a tribute to a faithful and much loved member, the Branch has asked that his testimony be printed again in our magazine.
His family remain in the prayers and thoughts of all who knew this godly man, who despite the events that changed his life all those years ago, continued to witness to the saving and keeping power of a loving Saviour.
Billy Acheson's Testimony.
"I was one of eight children who lived with my parents off the Shankill Road in Belfast.
I attended Sunday School and Church at St Michael's but it was much later, when I was 16 years old that I was invited to a Christian Endeavour service in the church by a group of young people that I had known from Sunday School days.
For the first time I was gripped by the message of the gospel I heard that night. St John 14 vs 1-6 came alive for me.
I returned home, and in the early hours of the next morning I accepted Christ as my personal Saviour.
Eventually I became an elder in St Enoch's Presbyterian Church where I was also Sunday School superintendent and leader of the Junior Boys' Brigade Company.
Happily married to Myrtle, we had two children, Stephen who was 11 and Suzanne 7 years old. when our lives were changed dramatically.
Myrtle was already expecting our third child when, on the evening of 17 November 1973, I was returning from a service in the church.
I had just alighted from a bus and was making my way home when I was confronted by two gunmen.
One of them walked away while the other fired his gun hitting me in the neck, missing my jugular vein by one eighth of an inch.
The force of the shot spun me around so that when I started to run I was heading in the wrong direction.
Two more bullets whistled past me while another hit my shoulder, badly injuring the shoulder and upper arm.
An ambulance, police and the army were quickly on the scene, only yards from my home and I was soon on my way to hospital where I stayed for the next nine months.
In the meantime Myrtle had a threatened misscarriage but, thankfully, a healthy baby, Ruth, was born and was three months old by the time I was discharged.
An interesting incident took place while I was so ill in hospital. A friend requested that a visiting choir should sing for me on hospital radio. my favourite hymn 'Up Calvary's mountain'.
I remember a set of headphones being put in place but I don't remember that I sang aloud with the choir, every word of the hymn.
I am told that the other patients in the ward were stunned, televisions were switched off and some ladies from the next ward came in to listen".
But not defeated.
Twenty-six years later Billy still bears the scars of that night in Woodvale Parade. He uses a wheelchair and suffers much pain and discomfort from his wounds, but his life is such a blessing to all who know him.