If you had seen the big chocolate fudge cake for two quid on sale in Sainsbury’s on a casual Thursday night, don’t pretend you wouldn’t have snapped it up too.

It wasn’t that I was hungry for the cake particularly, but something in me decided that the discounted item was too good to pass up, regardless.

Brilliantly, my reason for buying it walked past me as I got out my car to go into my friend Pippa’s house, cake clutched in my arms. “I wish I had a cake like that” said a voice from the shadows. I looked up to see a tall bearded man, slightly stooped in an old grey coat, turning back to smile at me as he walked on.

I’d just begun to laugh, responding with: “Yeah, it looks pretty good doesn’t it?!” when Pippa whispered in my ear: “Give him the cake” and before I knew it, I was placing the box into the stranger’s arms declaring: “I’d love you to have it then!”

The look of complete surprise and bemusement on the man’s face was one I hadn’t seen in a while. The apparently outrageous random act of kindness stopped him in his tracks and sent him spinning. It was like people weren’t used to generosity, “just because”, anymore.

Of course he tried to hand it back, and when I refused, he asked me what the catch was.

“I want to bless you mate. I know Jesus and I believe this is something he would want to do” I said, looking into the stranger’s lined face and puzzled expression.

“Ah, so maybe I do have to do something for it then” came his response, as he broke into a wry smile.

Before you know it, the basic concept of grace and freely accepting a blessing with no hidden charges had been explained by us girls. We had swapped names, a little of each other’s lives (turns out he’s French-Swiss) and he knew exactly when, where and why my church meet. We agreed that if he really wanted to return the favour, (I think he wanted to bake a Tarte Au Citron for me… so French…), he would have to meet me at church on Sunday. And given my church is designed for those who “don’t do church”, Adam (my new friend) seemed to think that sounded a good idea.

In the space of about ten unplanned, unpredicted minutes on the street, I had got the chance to invite a guy to church and give him a cake fit for a party. And the most poignant moment of all occurred when Adam turned to me and said “There is an aroma about you. Like a strong herb. It is overwhelming. Not bad, but a powerful aroma”. And in that moment I was reminded of the words in 2 Corinthians 2 v 14- 16:

“But thanks be to God, who always leads us as captives in Christ’s triumphal procession and uses us to spread the aroma of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are an aroma that brings death; to the other, an aroma that brings life.”

It’s not often I experience a moment like that; when someone who doesn’t know Jesus basically quotes the Bible in order to describe coming into contact with the truth of life. How spot-on, alive and active is the word of God?!

“I will think about this Miriam. I will remember this” Adam said, pretty touchingly as we parted company. Adam, I will pray for this. I will remember this too.

Father, bring Adam to church on Sunday. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

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You know what’s even more frustrating than that moment when you have a golden opportunity to share your faith and you bottle it? That moment when you take the opportunity to share your faith, start well, but fall down in your last twenty metres of track, and end up face down still holding the baton of truth, which you failed to pass on.

I literally had a bible in my hands to give him as I let him walk away.

You see, me and a couple of my mates were all taking different trains that day. Trains full of people who don’t like to talk or make eye contact, but for all we knew could have never heard the good news about Jesus. So we dared each other to be bold, to bite the awkward bullet, and to strike up conversation with those around us, with the hope of being able to share something of God’s love for them.

Dangerously, we prayed for opportunities to help us break the ice… so it shouldn’t have taken me by surprise at all that the fella I ended up sat next to was reading a book called ‘The Left Hand of God’. No excuses Miriam.

I asked him what was he reading, and as I had been reading a little red Gideon’s Bible which I’d brought on the journey with the intention of giving it away, I thought perhaps he would ask the same. He didn’t. However, we got into a big discussion about the state of the fantasy-book genre, and thanks to going out with Alex, fantasy fan, I actually had quite a lot to respond with!

I talked about Alex’s love for fantasy writing, and his job with CVM, and when the bloke complained about how his book was lacking any epic, world-changing themes, I even managed to chat about how incredible inspiration has been taken from the Bible for fantasy works… cheers Tolkien and Lewis.

And yet I sat there, still clutching my bible, not quite daring to offer my well-read companion the book of life.

I didn’t expect him to get off at the same stop, or turn and walk the other way when he did. He just said “Oh, I’m this way, nice to meet you” and he was off. And did I stop him and say I’d like him to read this book too? Did I jog after him and quickly explain I’d wanted to hand him this, just in case he was interested? No. I said “Oh ok, nice to meet you, bye” and set off the other direction. Still holding my bible.

Now don’t get me wrong, if truth be told I am grateful for the conversation I had and I trust God with any seeds of interest that may have been planted. Perhaps he is even reading this now, if he remembered CVM and googled it. It’s just hard to recognise your own weakness and timidity in an area people label as your “gift”.

The parable of the sower, in Luke chapter 8 verses 1- 11 was stuck in my head the day of the train ride. Particularly, how the farmer sowed his seed generously, despite much of it landing on soil that produced nothing in return. The point was he went for it anyway and spread as much seed as he could regardless. So that was my thought really. Go for it, regardless of the rate of return. Rather talk more of Jesus than less, no matter the reaction. If I hadn’t have gone for it, I’d have never spoken to that guy at all, even if I went home with my bible still in my hands.

Are you catching a train any time soon? Or sitting in a coffee shop for a length of time? Going for a cycle with people? Standing at the side lines of the pitch with others? I dare you to also pray for an icebreaker… look out for your own ‘The Left Hand of God’, and sow generously.

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He should have died at the scene. That was what they were saying. His first 24 hours after the car crash were to be his last. That was what everyone was preparing themselves for.

So when he walked into the living room last week, smiling, I don’t think any of us quite had the words to express just what that moment meant.

A couple of my housemates had lived with the guy in question, we’ll call him Jacob, and so he was kind of a friend of a friend. Yet, on the day of his accident, a whole community of students were mobilised into support and concern for a lad about to do the final year of his degree. Jacob’s hopes for the future were resting on a life-support machine and accomplished surgeons.

Suddenly, being the only Christian in my house became glaringly obvious, as we sat around the phone waiting for news, no one knowing how they should respond or how we could help. I had nothing to offer but prayer. Yet, at the same time, out of the woodwork came all of Jacob’s friends who also knew Jesus, and suddenly, a prayer network was born, interceding for the student in a coma with head injuries beyond belief and a leg that had been chewed up by the wreckage.

Eight months later, to see the person whose survival we had been pleading with God for, stroll into my house and settle down for a pizza with us, was like witnessing a miracle. But more than that, I got to tell him just how significant that was. I had asked God to one day give me the opportunity to tell Jacob just how many people had been praying for him. I wanted him to know that as followers of Jesus, we believe in the power of calling upon God to bring life and fullness even in the most seemingly impossible circumstances.

In short, when the bible says ‘Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer’ (Romans 12:12) that’s what it means. I want to get better at persevering in prayer even when the odds seem stacked against the answer being the one I ask for. Because Jacob proves that anything is possible. But more than that, I want to get better at sharing this with the person I’m praying for. Imagine if you actually told your mate at work, the guy you play alongside on the pitch, that parent you meet at the school gate that you have been and will be praying for them. I think I’m going to try that this coming week.

We trust God with the prayers he says yes or no to, but God trusts us with praying in all circumstances.

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“I figured you’d ask me where I’m at with God stuff so I spent a few hours last night thinking about the answer to that question.”

I didn’t expect Matt to come out with that. I didn’t realise I was so predictable.

We only had an hour or so for a mug of tea outside Euston and a quick catch-up after probably a good six months apart. Naturally we hit our headlines: family, work, holiday plans… and of course I asked all the relationship questions us girls like to know (got to make sure you guys are treating your ladies right!) But I have never been in a situation where my friend has asked themselves “the God question” first. It was quite refreshing really, but it did take me by surprise.

I appeared to have created a habit in my friendship with Matt that meant every time we caught up, I’d ask him where he was at with God and what he was thinking about church. Except this time, he was so expecting the faith challenge, he beat me to it! Away he goes with what’s in his head: his struggles with church, how he reckons the Bible should be taught and the over-arching message of love he believes we often miss with God.

He wouldn’t call himself a follower of Jesus, but he also won’t write it off. He genuinely had spent hours thinking through where he stands with Jesus the evening before, in order to discuss it with predictable old me over a cuppa. The habit of our God-chats actually enabled Matt to give it some head space and reassess where he is.

In Colossians 4 it says “make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.”

What are we seasoning our conversations with? What flavour do the lads around you sense? Would you risk salting your chats so that blokes can taste the difference?

As much as I don’t like being thought of as predictable, I’ve decided to embrace my apparent tradition of routinely asking my friends about where they are with God. Anyone else feel like joining me in acquiring this habit?

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A Christian and a Muslim were walking down the road.

Sounds like the start of a bad joke doesn’t it? In fact, this was last Sunday. My newly met Muslim friend genuinely wanted to know whether she would be “allowed” to come to church with me.

I’d not really noticed the headscarf. Looking back, I suppose it was a bit of an odd picture; my gentle and quiet guest in her black hijab, discussing the book of Philippians with the talkative blonde student who thinks she’s a surfer and wears a bright purple bobble hat. It’s not the norm in church culture is it? My friend even flagged it up again at the end of the service: “Are you sure people won’t be offended by me being here? You don’t think they’ll mind that I can’t sing all the songs? Do you think they have a problem with me wearing this?”

In our Western culture of surface-deep philosophy, where the packaging is everything and appearance dictates our snap-judgement first-impressions, it’s no wonder my friend was acutely aware of being written-off for her religious garb that shouted “something different!”

And it only struck me then how it isn’t ok for me as a follower of Jesus not to walk with people from other faiths into Church. I don’t remember Jesus telling me to only invite certain types of people to His party.

In 1 Corinthians 9: 18- 20, Paul has this take on living out our faith:

“Though I am free and belong to no one, I have made myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law.”

If my friend and her hijab don’t feel welcomed and accepted by God’s representatives on earth, then I think I’ve missed the point. If us women don’t sacrifice our own reputations, and change our focus away from each other’s appearances, we might as well go sit in Starbucks on a Sunday and people-watch out the windows.

A Christian and a Muslim were walking down the road. The Muslim turned to the Christian and said… “I’ll see you next Sunday for church.”

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