‘Faith’ the atheist concluded ‘is a crutch for the weak.’ As he sat down, I seethed in my seat. Although I was aware of this argument I couldn’t believe that a supposedly educated man would use this aged saying as his closing gambit. The theme was ‘Do we need God in the 21st Century?’ As I imagine these things always do, it turned into ‘Does God exist?’ In the God corner weighing in with faith were a Christian Bishop and a Muslim Cleric, and in the no-God corner advocating free love and nudity was a naturist and the above mentioned atheist.

(By Mandy Marshall)

‘It’s alright – I know what sex I am love’ came the response from a man when I told him what job I did. The phrase Gender Advisor is not exactly the clearest of job titles. It does make it open for comments such as ‘Do you work in a sex change clinic then?’ and ‘So what do you do once you’ve separated the men from the women?’

The very title of my job can actually scare men off. The word gender conjures up images of bra-burning feminists of the 1960’s that has somehow stuck with us. Not something that is helpful when you are trying to bring men and women together to work in partnership and harmony. I need men!

It is easy to slip into stereotypes and makes assumptions about people and words that we use. A challenge I have is to try to engage men in gender issues when the vast majority think it’s a ‘wimmin’s issue’. The reality is very different. Gender looks at the cultural stereotypes we have of men and women. They differ from culture and culture and change over time. So the images we have of what men did in the 1800’s certainly is different from today. The same applies for women. Roles change over time as opportunities for education & employment increase and policies are in place to support this.

Gender equality is all about ensuring that men and women have the same opportunities in life, laws that are applied equally, discrimination based on being male or female ended. Gender equality includes equality for men. It is not about raising the rights of women at the expense of men. That is not equality. It’s about restoring a balance: a balance that has historically been skewed for a long time. Both men and women suffer as a result. In my work it is often men that don’t think that they need equality, or that they see it as bringing them down a peg down a two. That is just not the case. It is often about having a new vision and seeing how better life can be when all are considered for the talents, skills and experiences they have. Allowing both men and women to be who God created them to be. Not boxed in by what society tells us we ‘should’ be. This applies equally to men and women.

I see in the media in the UK a real dumbing down of men that is frankly unhealthy and at its worst, sexist. The new diet coke advert is an example of this. At one point in the ad a woman pinches a man’s bum in the bar. If it was the other way round there would be a stream of calls complaining. So why should it be acceptable the other way round? It is not. It objectifies men. It is unacceptable. It makes my job harder.

The ‘F’ word has also been much maligned and misunderstood. I’m talking about Feminism. The very word makes men want to run in the opposite direction. It is a movement for equality. You could say Jesus was a feminist. He pushed and challenged the cultural boundaries of the day. He allowed women to financially support his ministry (Mary, Martha, Mary Magdalene and a host of his other female followers would have actively supported him), he mixed freely with women in his daily life, he taught women theology (Mary) that was unthinkable in his day, he allowed a woman to show him affection in public (Mary Magdalene washing his feet), he restored women’s dignity, self worth and value (Samaritan woman, woman bleeding), he displayed a balance (woman caught in adultery). Overall Jesus treated women as equals, subjects not objects. He was radical, inclusive, and counter cultural in his day.

When we look at feminism from the perspective of restoring a balance, the balance that was from the beginning, it is easier to engage. In my job I need men to bring about changes. They are often the ones in positions of power, authority and responsibility that can bring about change. I need men to model healthier relationships to other men to stop violence against women. I need men to confident in themselves and who they are in God to step out in faith and be counter cultural in today’s society. Not conforming to the pressures of society that tells us that money, status, power, who you are having sex with, and consumables are who you are. We have the good news to share. As every person who has been to Sunday school will know, the answer is Jesus. We need Jesus to bring us into a newness of relationship with him. To challenge those areas that are not right. To bring our self value and self worth based on money, status, power, cars, consumables, sex rather than on whom we are in God before Jesus. We are loved, restored, forgiven, highly valuable, amazing, powerful, heirs with Christ, part of a family, unique. We need to apply these truths on the inside. Each one of us, both men and women, are needed to bring about God’s kingdom here on earth.

I am one person doing a job in a large organisation. The task is massive. It’s a UK issue. It’s a global issue. I can’t do it on my own. I need men to join in the journey for better, healthier relationships. To journey on restoring the balance between women and men. Will you join me on this journey? Men are required – apply within.

Mandy Marshall is Tearfund’s Programme Development Advisor focusing on Gender issues & Co-Director of Restored. She has travelled extensively with Tearfund over the last 17 years.

By Nick Welford (Covering for Alex on leave in South Africa)

The other week I watched the film Coach Carter. Based on the true story of basketball coach Ken Carter it charts his journey of coaching a poor performing college team to some unexpected success. Every time one player enters a game Carter asks him ‘What do you fear?’ The player doesn’t have an answer for him until much later in the film when he says this:

‘Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do. It’s not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own lights shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.’

Nice quote eh? I even thought to myself ‘I might use that in a sermon!’ Sometime later I remembered that thought and looked up the quote on the internet and this is what I found:

‘Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Did you notice it? The removal of the mention of God. It changes the quote, suddenly the reason for our light is our own ability rather than God’s grace. This phenomenon, removing God, has crept into every sphere of our life. New atheism in particular, is aggressively trying to remove God from the human consciousness.

But the trouble is that we cannot hold ourselves accountable, we cannot shine by ourselves, when we try we do promote insecurity in others, without the knowledge that our light comes from God all we are left with is pride. And it’s not just the secular world that we see this trend – How often do I acknowledge God in my life? How often do I thank Him for the many, many things He does for me? When I preach or lead a service and people thank me, do I acknowledge God or accept their praise? The Bible tells us to make the most of every opportunity, yet we often leave God out of our everyday lives.

Jude 1:24-25 ‘To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy to the only God our Saviour be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and for evermore! Amen.’

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.

I do not measure up to the world’s image of a man. I don’t like rugby. I bake cakes. I am pitiful at DIY and now, after recent events, I am forced to admit that I can’t even repair a punctured bike tyre. Now I have been really unlucky with this tyre, it has been deflated a number of times. Also deflated is my ego at each failed attempt to repair it. Usually after working up an anger to rival 5 aside fury I give in and buy a new inner tube. So when I came to load my bike into the car for a weekend away at Center Parcs and found the tyre, yet again, flat, you would have thought I’d have rushed to the shop and got a replacement tube. After all that would have been the sensible thing to do wouldn’t it? But nooooooooooo! Not me. You see I take each punctured tube not as bad luck or misfortune, but a direct attack on my total ineptitude at practical masculine, and somewhat simple, tasks.

The tiny hole that allows that air to bled from my steed is not just creating another job for me to attend to, but it is mocking me mercilessly. Can you hear it? Listen close to the raspy little sucker – ‘Welford is that you? Can’t even fix me can you? You pathetic excuse for a man! I have reduced you to a wasted hour of failed attempts, fits of fury, and more swear words than you have used in the last year! Mwhahahaha!’

After my third attempt to apply the stupid patches I picked up the tube of rubber cement to see if I was missing some vital instruction. ‘IRRITANT!’ the side of the tube boldly proclaimed. ‘You’re not kidding’ I thought, as I launched it across the garage.

In that moment I was a mix of anger and despair. Anger because despite following the instructions it still didn’t work, and despair at being reminded that here was another simple task I could not perform. While my friend, God bless him, who has just moved in down the road is building shelves from old drawers, painting the house from top to bottom, working shifts and looking after two kids under three, I was struggling to patch a hole the size of a pinprick. And if I couldn’t do that, in what other arenas would I fail to live up to my designation as a man? I have already failed to provide my wife with a child, she is the main breadwinner, and my lack of DIY nous means I am relegated to performing even simpler chores such as hovering, ironing and emptying the dishwasher.

And as I dismantle my person so effectively, there, sat on the work bench is Jesus. He’s not said anything, he doesn’t need to. He’s just waiting, waiting for me to turn and face Him, to receive His comfort, to let Him meet my needs, to let Him reaffirm me, not in the image I have taken on, not in the mantle of the world, but in the way He created me, in His image, in the robes of the King.

Sounds good.

Nick is covering for Alex, who is in South Africa sipping red wine

There’s always a scrap or two taking place at break-time; I’m sure it’s one of hundreds if not thousands of schools where little fights between nine and ten-year olds break out amongst classmates. Sometimes it’s tough to keep up with the latest ongoing kerfuffle; are they playfighting or do I need to get myself over there sharpish and break it up…? The latter, obviously, must be done, if in any doubt whatsoever.

On this particularly chilly Wednesday morning though, there wasn’t a shadow of a doubt; the big lad (who we’ll call Kyle) was raging, blood boiling. The significantly smaller fella he was chasing, Max, let’s say, literally looked as though he was running for his life: fear, dread, a genuine ‘will-somebody-please-save-my-neck-here’ look. No other teachers were around, I had to step in.

No sooner had I stood in front of a vengeful looking Kyle, attempting to calm him down verbally before being forced to do so physically, had his encouraging mate, his anchor man, the Crabbe or Goyle to Kyle’s Draco Malfoy, valiantly (or maybe that should read stupidly, or disrespectfully) stepped in front of him to face me. Then, the words that would stick in my over-sensitive soul for way too long came out of his mouth forcefully, and with spite.

“You’re not even a real teacher – get away!”

For much of the remainder of the day, I imagined a scenario involving the lad who aimed the deadly dialogue right in my face to be in Max’s ‘save-my-soul’ position the very next day, begging me for help, only for me to shrug my shoulders nonchalantly and arrogantly, and to remind him that ‘I’m not a real teacher, I can’t help you.’

Just one of many, many occasions when I need to ask myself ‘What Would Jesus Do?’, realise that he’d laugh off a comment from a boy who probably forgot what he had even said to me five minutes after doing so, even if I couldn’t, forgive him, do my very best to get along with him, love him and do the very best I could for him whilst working in that school.

The same way God forgives me when I don’t deserve it.

Hebrews 12:15 says: ‘See to it that no-one fails to obtain the grace of God; that no “root of bitterness” springs up and causes trouble, and by it many become defiled.’

What a wonderful, incomprehensible, unfathomable, beautiful, undeserving but eternal and overwhelmingly quality of our Great God. Amazing grace indeed.

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.

It was only for an hour or so, and I was adamant that it would be productive. I really didn’t see a problem. I didn’t really need to be anywhere else.

I get paid very little for what I do; nowhere near enough, frankly. The teachers look down on us teaching assistants if I’m being honest – even the kids know we’re not teachers. Not really. But we work hard, and we get very little credit despite the fact that it’s often our job to take the tougher, more disruptive, academically challenged pupils out of the classroom. I was owed a free hour. To do what I wanted. No-one would know; no-one would care.

The Year 8 lad I usually supported at this time on a Wednesday had been sent home for swearing at a teacher. I could have wandered into a handful of other lessons to assist; there was even a display in the English department that required completion, but I couldn’t be bothered. The staff room was deserted and the computers were free.

I began by checking my e-mails; the usual stuff that went out to all members of staff and wasn’t of any particular relevance to me but, inevitably, I began browsing websites to quench my thirst for film and footy gossip. But a dozen or so minutes into reading about the latest transfer rumours and a review of the latest mediocre Marvel comic movie, I began to feel guilty. I was blatantly and undeniably breaking a commandment; I was stealing. A sneaky, no-need-to-justify type of stealing which I imagine most of us are guilty of now and again. I may not have stolen an old lady’s purse or a packet of skittles, but I was stealing time from work. Time that I was getting paid for.

I lacked a huge chunk of something I try to live by daily: integrity. The four months I’d been working in this school, as I gain the experience that will hopefully result in my landing a place on the PGCE teaching course next year, I’ve made a good impression; been a good role model. I engage with the kids, they seem to respond to me – the Senior Vice Principle is even trying to create a support position in order to keep me on in September.

Ephesians 6:7 reads: ‘Serve wholeheartedly, as if you were serving the Lord, not men.’ God is always watching, even when I almost convince myself that there must be a million and six bigger sins taking place.

So – there we were.

Blokes.

Blokes in a big tent.

Blokes in a big tent in a windswept field.

Blokes everywhere. Big blokes, little blokes, beardy blokes, shaven blokes, baldy blokes, hairy blokes, young blokes, old blokes. It was exciting. Banter, bacon rolls, burgers, beer, and the ….I’ve run out of b’s – but you’ve got the idea.

We’d come from all over the UK. One guy had come from Mexico, or so it seemed. I rather think he was visiting the UK and got invited along. Surely no-one would come all the way from Mexico, just for a bit of Christian fellowship and fun?

We’d come together to celebrate being a man. To encourage, exhort and edifiy one another. To be church for a weekend that was just male but nonetheless just as rich, just as textured, just as nuanced as our usual experience.

Men together for the Son of Man.

The meeting started in an unusual way with a rolling darts competition. Any old chancer could come up to the ockey, throw two sets of three and the highest five scores over the next 36 hours would go forward to the grand final on Sunday morning. A truly effective crowd warmer. We loved it.

There was an inspiring amount of blokey banter between the three wise men fronting the event, but it was never cynical, never nasty, just fun and occasionally a bit challenging as the deeper things about our bloke-ishness were exposed and examined. Healthy stuff this. We were dealing with man–issues and having fun.

Then the trouble started.

I’d been enjoying a long period of really getting to grips with this ‘personal relationship with Jesus’ thing. I’d learned to take lot of time meditating on small sections of scripture. Maybe just a verse or two that I’ll carry around for a week [ or more ] until I get to the time when I shut myself away, put on some quiet music and really, really think hard and pray deeply about what I’m looking at. One aspect of this process is that worship becomes deep, intimate and sometimes rather intense. I love it. The worship thing can now happen almost anywhere, anytime. Beautiful.

It was Kendrick’s fault.

As usual, Graham led us in praise. He does it beautifully, simply, powerfully. But above all he does it with a humble grace that leads you to worship. So I worshipped. All I could do was stand there with my hands by my sides and feel the tangible presence of the Spirit of God. Right there. Right then.

Worship often makes me see things differently. I’ve become acutely aware that God, Jesus, Holy Spirit, my spirituality is something that I can only describe as ‘other’. It’s otherworldly. It’s other being-ness. I just know when the otherness is opening up ‘this’ world becomes thinner. It’s as though there’s a veil over the spirituality until I choose to focus on the spiritual things then the veil flips and I’m in the ‘other’ and I’ve left ‘this’ world partly behind. See Colossians 3 : 1-3. See if it makes different sense now.

I love being ‘other’. I love leaving ‘this’ behind because ‘other’ makes more sense to me than all the pressures and pursuits of ‘this’.

I’ve understood for years that sin isn’t a range of actions & attitudes that are unacceptable to Father God, rather it’s the persistent choice to live and make life choices independently of Father God. It’s choosing ‘this’ world rather than pursuing the ‘other’ world.

So that’s my trouble that I’m in. Thanks to CVM and Graham Kendrick I now know that otherness isn’t confined to my study. Otherness is with me wherever I am. Otherness can be attained in what appears to be the least likely of circumstances and is no less potent for it.

In the midst of all that fun and masculinity and banter, the teaching of John 10:10 shows us that life remains fully open, fully accessible to us all.

His name is Jesus, the portal, the door to the ‘other’ way of being fully man and fully alive – forever.

(Acknowledgements to Roy Crown, after his talk at the CVM Gathering, 26.06.11).

Pete:

“It happens ‘specially when I’m driving alone on a long journey. I’ll get one of my big ideas. It’ll be something which will solve loads of our problems in one go, or make the work go ballistic. They come from something that’s happened to me in the past or some random thing will spark one off. Sometimes they come from other people who’ve had a similar idea but they don’t seem to see its full potential, or they just can’t be bothered to do anything. I’ll get really fired up about an idea because I can see the potential straight away. I’m good at selling an idea to other people and getting them fired up as well. I just crack on with it. It makes me feel full of energy and I can put loads of hours in—no problem, networking and getting everybody behind it. Sometimes my head’s so full of these things, I think it might burst. It’s difficult keeping so many projects on the boil and new, even better ideas keep coming to me… “

Tim:

“When one of these ‘ideas’ blokes tells me about his latest one, my mind switches onto it straight away. It takes about a second for my head to fill with all the implications that nobody else thinks about. I can see at once the overestimates and underestimates that I already know the’ideas’ bloke’s made. I’ve seen them stumble into the same pitfalls before and I remember all that, where they forget. I can get completely absorbed by all this. It’s mouth-watering. I can put loads of hours in—no problem, usually on my own, beavering away, planning and turning an idea into reality. I don’t like making a song and dance about stuff with other people. I’m just not like these ‘ideas’ blokes…”

Pete:

“… Then I talk to my colleague Tim about it. He doesn’t ever seem to get excited, unlike most other people. He gets this look–his face glazes over. He might manage a, “That’s really good…” But it comes out so flat, you know it’s forced. And it’s usually followed by, “But ‘ang on, what about…” And then it starts—all the things that might go wrong, all the risks, the deadlines and so on and on and on. Trying to listen to Tim’s like watching a dumper trunk pouring out a deluge of facts and figures on top of an idea, so it gets buried. You just get lost in it all…”

Tim:

“…like Pete. On the rare occasions when I get him to stop long enough for a serious conversation, he just doesn’t seem to listen. He’s so excitable. He gets this look—his face glazes over. He doesn’t get how much time and effort there is between just having an idea and actually making it happen. The devil really is in the detail. He gets bored with details. He’s got so many projects on the boil, the work is littered with stuff he’s put on the back burner. Who knows when it’ll come off ? You don’t want to give him any of your own ideas. I’ve tried and two weeks later he’s back selling it to you as one of his…”

Pete:

“…That Tim, he’s so negative. He’s an irritating nitpicker. He kills things off. He pees me off completely. I just can’t understand him.”

Tim:

“…That Pete, he’s an airhead. He’s a superficial thinker. He’s over-optimistic and naive. He pees me off completely. I just can’t understand him.”

Read. John 21, 1-14, about Peter who jumped in and the rest who rowed the catch to shore; and 1 Corinthians 12, 12-26, about body parts who argue with each other.

Pete, the visionary leader who jumps straight in and Tim, the administrative genius, who’s rowing to keep up, desperately need each other. They’re different parts of the body. Working apart, they’re stuffed. Working in the (difficult) unity of The Spirit, trying to understand each other’s gifts and patiently making allowances, they could win the World.