A group of fifty-year-old men were sat three rows behind an eight-year-old boy with eager eyes. There were hundreds of them. “What do they expect?” I pondered, whilst holding eye contact with one of the largest crowds I’ve ever seen. Elim’s biggest youth gathering of the year played out in front of me and I was worried. I wasn’t scared that I would say anything stupid, (that’s usually guaranteed) and I wasn’t nervous that they wouldn’t laugh at my bizarre anecdotes, (as long as I laugh I didn’t care). I was worried that my experiences, my testimonies and my teaching would have no relevance to this daunting army of strangers.

I was alone. By this I mean that for the first time in my life I was addressing a crowd where I knew absolutely nobody. Usually there is a friend or two sitting in the back row encouraging me by pulling stupid faces or quietly heckling from a distance. But in Telford International Centre, I was armed with a book older than Gandalf the Grey, and stories about a Welsh town most English people will never visit.

It never fails to surprise me. The age-old method of teaching the bible to those open to Jesus still leaves an effect on men from every generation. As a movement of men across the UK we have laid down the foundation of our defence, our code of practice and our strategies for advance. We call it Codelife and we’re putting it in front of the next generation.

After my attempts to enthuse the masses, a 12-year-old lad called Ezekiel walked towards me. In one breath, he said this: “I’ve been thinking about the lads in my town and how there’s nothing out there for them. I thought it was only me that cared for their faith, but now I know about you guys. I’m really thankful CVM is out there with me. So thank you.”

The lads in Telford are standing with us. The lads in Exeter, Cardiff, Merthyr, London, York, Chesterfield, Bath, Belfast, Romford, Liverpool, Sheffield and beyond, they’re standing with us.

We’re making our stand across the UK, but how long we stand for, is up to you.

The future of the Codelife moment is in the hands of every Christian man in this country. We need your support to help us stand in every town and city in this land. We are not interested in a five-year stint; we want to be in this for the long haul, and this is up to you.

Will you help us stand for the next generation?

Donate your prayers – pray we will stand well. Stand with us. Stand now.

Alex Willmott

CVM

If I didn’t mention it, maybe the experienced mechanic wouldn’t notice.

Stan, my 11-year-old Fiat Punto, hasn’t been working properly since I smashed it into a concrete slab at Bolton service station last year. Everything but the steering works. For a year I’ve been taking corners like a dysfunctional WW2 tank.

Today, I parked the green machine at a garage in Chesterfield, for a reluctant MOT. I didn’t mention the steering. The way I saw it, he was probably just checking the brake pads. (Whatever they are). Walking back to the flat from the garage was the closest I’ve come to leaving a loved one in a job interview or an exam. I actually turned around halfway down the road to catch what may be my final glance at Stan, the “roadworthy’ stallion.

Three hours later, the dreaded call came. Dave the mechanic had carried out the MOT and was delivering what felt like a judges verdict.

Dave: “Alex, I’ve changed the oil, shaved the brake pads and adjusted part of the engine which was leaking.”

Alex: “Superb, nice one Dave, I’ll pick it up now if you like?”

Dave: “Ummm. Well the thing is, I’ve had a look at the steering shaft.”

Alex: “Oh yeah? Any good?”

Dave: “It’s at a right angle mate. You must have caught it on something. I can get the part in and fit it tomorrow. It’ll cost you about £120 extra though mate.”

Alex: “Ok. My bad.”

The mechanic knew I tried to keep it hidden. He even asked me if I could feel half the car vibrating when I drove it. To which I replied: “Well, ummm, I guess there was, ummm, hmmm, yeah. Maybe”.

I learnt two lessons today. 1) You cannot fool an expert. 2) Do not try to fool an expert.

The truth is, my car will be a lot safer and live a lot longer now the steering is fixed. But somehow I persuaded myself that saving money was far more important. Keeping things hidden is definitely part of my genetic make up. I don’t know how it got there, but since I was a kid, I’ve always been aware of it.

Jeremiah nails it here:

“But blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him. They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. 
It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. 
It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.”

The heart is deceitful above all things 
and beyond cure. Who can understand it?

“I the LORD search the heart and examine the mind, 
to reward each person according to their conduct, according to what their deeds deserve.”

Peace.

Walking through a wet Cwmbran was about as enjoyable as chewing through a wheelie bin. The Welsh winds threw me up against a tree at one point in my two mile hike to a church called “Victory”. As I approached the revamped warehouse-church, my mind welcomed the sparks of scepticism. The question which provided an umbrella for a million other sarcy thoughts, was this: How can a large shack on a hill in South Wales make a difference? (In hindsight, I think the entire heavenly realm shook their heads at this.)

Within five minutes of sitting in the warm reception, I saw two builders, two businessmen and a musician pass through to speak with the church leaders. It was a bit like a doctor’s waiting room without the sickness. I removed my coat. In fact, I was made to feel at home so much, I could have removed my shirt.

What happened next can only be described as a whirlwind of vision introduced by a man called Richard Taylor. I’ve thought long and hard on how to convey this in blog format, and my conclusion is that bullet points would probably be the most efficient method.

> Church started one year ago with a group of former drug-addicts and a married couple. In one year, the church has grown to 650 people.

> Church is now one of the fasted growing churches in Wales.

> One couple came to faith, got baptised and married in one weekend.

> Church service includes three songs and an hour’s bible teaching.

> In every service at least one person takes their first steps in the Christian faith.

> Richard Taylor, who leads the church, is a former drug addict and found out about Jesus whilst in prison.

I saw what can only been described as the results of faith in Cwmbran. Real faith. Faith in Jesus. I saw a man who actually believed he could change a town, a region and a country with the message of Jesus. And what is more, during my whirlwind introduction, I saw a man who was actually doing it.

There was no rhetoric in the way he talked about Jesus. It was as if he was walking around with the Word of God in his heart. And the Truth is, he was.

As I left the Industrial Unit and headed down the hill back to the station, I was overcome with tears. In a brief meeting with a fellow Welsh Christian, I had encountered the greatest encouragement of all. Amidst the stories of phenomenal growth, mass baptisms and community transformation, I was reminded of the words in 1 Peter 1 vs 8-9. “Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls.”

Maybe it’s not about personality. Maybe it’s not about how gifted you are. Maybe it’s about believing in Jesus, and then actually doing what he asks in Scripture. Maybe it’s as simple as that. Just maybe.

This week I celebrate a decade following Jesus. I say “following” because that’s the word that best describes what I’ve been doing. But to be honest, sometimes these words would have suited my journey better:

Searching, Chasing, Stumbling, Abandoning, Pestering, Entertaining, Embarrassing.

On February 16, 2001, I had no idea where my mustard seed of faith would take me. And here, ten years later, I still don’t. I read the stories of the faith heroes in the New Testament and long for more confidence in the message of Jesus. That same message, which gave me life to the max a decade ago, has been igniting the souls of men and women across the British Isles even today.

However, my faith anniversary will not take place without sombre reflection. I can think of hundreds of people I have spent time with who have not been able to see the wood for the trees. Men and women have poured out their broken hearts declaring an issue which has hammered their daily lives. I have watched my closest friends yearn for a cure to their deep-rooted lack of joy. I have witnessed the downfall of those closest to me. So many people have snubbed the message of Jesus as a religious anecdote bearing no relevance to their struggle with the human condition. Some of my mates have described in detail the hole in their soul, with wry smiles across their depleted faces.

Their lives come at them from every angle, yet they refuse to stand on the solid rock. They even express envy at the rock on which I stand whilst ignoring my open invitation for them to join me.

But the common denominator in every story I encounter, is the colossal sense of hope.

If the message of Jesus can radicalise a 16-year-old Valley boy on a cold night in February, then it can do the same for anyone and everyone. I know this to be true.

I, like so many others, have been entrusted with the most uplifting, counter-cultural message on the globe. It heals the broken-hearted, grounds the arrogant, inspires the weak, comforts the abandoned, rescues the reckless, exposes the liar, restores the hopeless, and makes me laugh in coffee shops. It is the ultimate game-changer for the human race.

And so I crack on to the next ten years. I forget the things that have hindered me, and I rub my hands for the next chapter.

Proverbs 2

My son, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding, indeed, if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the LORD and find the knowledge of God. For the LORD gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding. He holds success in store for the upright, he is a shield to those whose walk is blameless, for he guards the course of the just and protects the way of his faithful ones.

Peace.

The M25 is the Golem of all British roads; deceptive, deceitful and downright disgusting. The overwhelming sensation of unfaithfulness swarmed me as I drove the company car instead of Stan, my aging Fiat Punto. That sensation soon disappeared when I dipped the clutch on this two-litre beast. I ate up the M1 like a Celtic goblin. And then I hit the M25. The road which has less character than a bus full of Premier League footballers.

I was heading to Essex to stay with CVM faithful Andy Drake, the proud Australian. Every encounter I’ve had with the man from Oz (that sounds weird doesn’t it?) has resulted in uncontrollable laughter. I was excited.

As thousands of cars surrounded me entering the English south, I clung to the hope of beers with the CVM team later that night. However, traffic jams have the edge on my optimism. After two hours of greyness in slow motion, every sense of joy gets deleted. I stare endlessly into the machine.

My Sat Nav could sympathise with me, as it completely lost the plot. At one stage it told me I was in Barnsley, when I was quite clearly in Basildon. The journey was becoming heavy, like the tension one faces in a school exam.

Eventually I arrived, only to find Andy wasn’t at home. I sat alone, in a random street in Essex, with nothing but broken thoughts and stressful twitches to keep me company.

And then, in my rear view mirror, Andy Drake was bowling down the street with the typical air of confidence that can be found on every Australian.

On entering his house I was given melted cheese on toast, (The greatest dish on Earth) a cup of tea, a can of full fat coke and a bottle of Peroni…all at once. Hallelujah. Instantly I was experiencing an “it was worth it” moment.

Can you imagine how much better its going to be for those who have kept the Christian faith on their arrival into eternity?

Every slow motion moment of greyness in this world will be worth every second in the everlasting.

And I’ll drink to that.

Peace.

To find out more about Jesus, read the Gospel of John; the most important book ever written.

I awoke, standing 95% naked in the middle of my room with my iPhone in my hand, as a woman spoke down the phone to me: “Do you think the message of Jesus has become irrelevant to men?” she asked.

Three days previous I had agreed to be interviewed by a BBC radio reporter regarding the issue of British men and Christianity. The interview was due to take place on Sunday morning at 7am, and so I set my alarm accordingly. Unfortunately, my alarm did not go off.

I slept through the early stages of the interview, but still answered each question.

Listening back to the broadcast, I was absolutely astonished at how coherent my answers were. (Some of my close friends are trying to persuade me to sleep through any future interviews.) I told my boss about my stupidity straight away, and hoped he would see the funny side of it. Thankfully, he laughed uncontrollably.

There are so many lessons in my sleep talk saga for us all:

1) Make sure you set your alarm properly

2) Go to bed earlier

3) Check tomorrow’s diary schedule tonight

But I think the most important thought I’ve had since the embarrassing episode, is the pointlessness in taking myself too seriously. We sit and ponder our deepest ambitious flings, we pledge to live differently to the previous generations, we promise ourselves through gritted teeth that we will overcome our tests and trials. Yet when all is said and done, what are we? Sleep talkers, foolish dreamers and naval gazers.

But before we develop our sombre frowns, maybe our mortality isn’t that bad after all.

Ecclesiastes sums it up

I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that people will fear him.

I laughed so hard I almost dropped her child. Little 10-day-old Morgan slept like a drunk baby in my arms as I chatted with two of my closest friends, his starry eyed parents: Luke and Hannah. I have had high hopes for Morgan, AKA Mogwai the Relentless, since his folks told me he was on his way. Within seconds of me being formally introduced (Luke dropping him into my hands) I started sending subliminal Welsh propaganda into his English dreams. His parents giggled, though that will change when he turns eight-years-old and for some reason hates the English rugby team.

As I thought about God’s wild and unknown plans for my tiny little friend, I prayed simply that he would soon know Jesus as his best mate. I watched Luke and Hannah compete to tell me how amazing he was already. The blank canvas that is Morgan’s life inspired me to thank God for leading me in my life so far.

The grace which has given me so much hope in my scatty walk with Jesus will be the same grace which holds Morgan Smith, my sleepy pal.

During one of my attempts to persuade Morgan to support the Welsh rugby team, his mother Hannah (also from God’s favourite nation) said something which cracked me up. She said: “Alex, the thing is, I keep forgetting his name! I think it’s because we named him.”

Though our human nature often leaves much to be desired, that moment gave me insight to just one of the million things which must make God laugh. The creator of all things, who will help Luke and Hannah to raise their son, knows the number of hairs on Morgan’s head. He knows Morgan’s life story. He sees the adventure set before him, and for some strange reason, I will get to be a tiny part of it.

Cymru am Byth

Peace

Some of them will be thankful, hopeful, joyful. Others will be furious for the sake of poverty, activists for the Christian faith, trailblazers amongst sleepwalkers. Some of them will know the words to every song of praise, faithful subscribers to Driscoll, Bell, Piper and Chan.

Some will force their tears, others will fight against them. Some will claim to be followers of Jesus, however, others will know that they are not.

Nothing has changed since Jesus addressed his crowds. The heart of man is deceitful all the time. The good news is that the Spirit of God and the Word of Truth is bigger than the human heart. So what do me and Dave do tomorrow, when we head to New Wine’s 18-30s conference for Christians? How do we look to serve and encourage the crowd of chameleons? How do we deny our reputations and sinful desires to help those who need Jesus?

We’ll strive to be mere signposts. Unassuming, plain, servants who fight under an audience of one. We will fly the CVM flag in a bid to point young men to their Father.

Code Two: I owe everything to him, I will do anything for him.

Please pray for us as we attempt to inspire a generation to see men follow Jesus.

Silent night, holy night, three lads break into my Fiat Punto with all their might.

As I tried to reflect and give thanks for the answers to prayer that had littered my 2010, I cast my eye over my ever-sturdy green machine, only to find the driver’s side door was hanging over itself like a smashed up robot. What a lovely Christmas gift from the lads in my hometown. Cheers.

How apt that last week’s entry exposed my selfish desire to see the future in a bid to protect myself from suffering. And though I want to use this week’s space to write about how God will judge evildoers, I am going to get my head out of my backside for a change.

Think on this: Is it possible for us to predetermine our reactions to disappointments? (Bear with me lads).

My reaction to the attempted theft of Stan my Punto was to swear and call down judgement from heaven. (Which is always hilarious in a Welsh accent). However, in the cold light of day I honestly believe that my material possessions are worthless compared to the riches I have in Jesus. I also believe that if someone genuinely asked me to give them my car, I probably would.

I know that the part of my DNA which is driven purely by survival and selfish gain will always fight for his seat on the throne, but surely after almost ten years of following Jesus, I should be able to put up a better fight?

Work out your faith, Paul says, and right he is. The truth might be that my ability to react to disappointing situations is far from mastered, but how immense is it that I have all day and night to work this stuff out? To pray, to predetermine, to forgive, to serve, to love. And I’ll have tomorrow also.

This time last year I challenged us all to put our faith into fifth gear, but not this year gents. This year I want us to work out our faith under the sovereignty of Jesus who calls us on.

The likelihood of the perpetrators of my smashed up Fiat reading this is very small, but just in case you are, hear me. It’s all good between us. I’ll buy you a beer if you’re up for it.

Peace.

On Earth, everything changes, all the time. Looking back on 2010 I can testify that like our technology, life is rarely static. I started this year living in a different part of the country, working in a different profession, carrying around a barrel full of unquenched desires which soon became prayers.

I have seen the hopes of my friends become a reality during the last 12 months while many others have been tackling the ever-present curse of grief.

I have come to the conclusion that nothing ever ends in our lives; things just merely change. This leaves two opposite thoughts bouncing around my head.

1) Freedom from the pressure of ambition.

2) Fear of the inevitable unknown.

Sometimes I wish I could have a two second glance of my life one year from now. I don’t know how that would affect me today, but I guess it would take away any fear of the unknown.This desire for a time machine fills my thought life occasionally, but it is instantly smashed to bits the moment I encounter God.

Though the challenge of the fluidity of life hovers above me, the greatest challenge of all is do I trust God with my today.

With that I mind I look back on 2010 with a completely new set of eyes. I see the lessons I have learned by reading the Word of God, the unquestionable love which wraps the Christian Church up into an invincible body and the creator’s constant desire to have a focussed friendship with me.

In the book of James, the Word of God sums up what I’ve tried to say in this scatty blog.

Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.”

Peace.