One of the tricky things about grief is that it lies to you. It tells you that when you encounter loss, you have simply been left with nothing. That your hands have been emptied and what once was, is now no more. And it is that terrifying thought of a life without the seemingly one thing that lit up your life which disturbs the soul. Don’t get me wrong; the pain is real, the swollen bloodshot eyes which attract sympathy from strangers is real. The sense of hopelessness which sits on your chest as you lie in bed at night and wraps itself around your waking moments is real.

A close friend of mine had to accept something really difficult this week. Like me, he has four men in his life whom he goes to when big decisions have to be made. They don’t know each other but they all follow Jesus. They very rarely give him the same advice but this week they all said the same thing. They softly told him that the girl he was once poised to propose to, who has recently told him to leave her alone, has gone for good. They told him she was no longer his beloved. They told him the time has come to man up and accept the painful reality.

When he told me about this he was crying and smiling at the same time; like a crazy man. I told him he looked like a crazy man and he soon stopped crying. I tried to express my deepest sympathy for my friend but he then placed his hand on my left shoulder and said: “Alex, pipe down for a second, because I have learnt something wonderful today which might even make a blog for you”. I laughed and told him it would never make my blog but to tell me anyway.

He said: “Alex my brother, accepting this rejection has been horrible. However, I am guilty. I bought the great lie which haunts every man who gets told it’s over by the woman of his dreams. I believed that my life experience bag I carry in my heart had been depleted. But that’s not how God works brother. I took a good long look at my heart and though it has been dump tackled onto the concrete, the bag inside is full! Its full!!! There are lessons in there which were not there before I met her and they are imperative lessons I needed to learn to become the man I was born to be. Lessons on what love is, what romance is, what sacrificial loving looks like and most importantly how to trust God’s unique plan for my life. And I trusted him when I was with her so I can trust him now I’m single. He hasn’t changed Alex. He isn’t worried about my future so I shouldn’t be. He filled my bag with priceless lessons through meeting, dating and losing my beloved. The sun will rise tomorrow brother, and I will be able to use those priceless lessons in my day. I need to man up and leave her go now.”

Tears were now streaming down my face as I smiled back at my friend. (But he didn’t tell me I looked like a crazy guy.) There is no formula to deal with loss. But there is truth. I think Jesus was right when he said the truth will set us free. And he didn’t just mean free from sin. I think its more than that. I think truth helps us to cope in a mess despite the temptation to sink.

Consider these wonderful truths in the book of James 1 v. 2-4. “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

The bags in our hearts are being filled by God through the good times and the bad. And what is it for? It’s for God to see us on our last days on this planet and say those words to us: “My child, you have persevered and you are now mature and not lacking anything.”

My friend told me if I could do a shout out to Mark and Lucy who helped shared the above verse with him. I told my friend I was a serious journalist and not some punk who allowed trashy shout outs to litter my precious blog.

Peace.

Nine years ago this week I became a Christian. (That’s a weird turn of phrase isn’t it?)

I celebrated the occasion with my bread-stealing flat mate Mark. Together, we sat in front of the box, cracked open a bottle of Sailor Jerry Rum, and talked about life, love and loaves.

If someone had told me I was going to become a Christian on the morning of February 16 2001, I would have probably told them to have a drink and drive to the coast.

Though I had paid two very unsatisfying visits to the local church, I was still living my daily life as if I was in complete control. To be honest, until around 7.35pm that evening, my heart actually believed that whatever felt good, was good. It was a surprisingly liberating experience to find out that I wasn’t the man at the centre of the universe.

Since that moment when I honestly asked the Jesus spoken of in the bible to lead me in my daily life, I have had to constantly fight the temptation of reclaiming the throne of my existence.

The weird thing is, that until recently, I looked back on that day as a 16-year-old in Cardiff and thought it was the most important day of my life. But it was not.

From looking closer at the stuff in the New Testament I now know that today is the only day that matters. The message that Jesus came to bring to this earth was “Today if you hear my voice, do not harden your heart.” Jesus did not say, “In your own time, when you’ve got your life sorted out, come and see me.”

I’ll be honest with you. These last six months have tested my faith in ways I couldn’t imagine when I was a teenager. Grief has really had me by the balls recently, and though my emotions are often mirroring that of a monkey on LSD, I am so happy that Jesus is still in my life.

The number of mistakes I’ve made in the last nine years as a Christian is quite simply embarrassing. Which makes the fact that Jesus not counting my sins against me sound so good.

And not only that, since that day I put him at the front of my mind, he has been strengthening my faith and character. And the truth is he doesn’t seem to be running for the door any time soon. So nine years later, here I am.

And as Mark and I took a fair chunk of rum and coke on-board, I shed a few tears looking back at the last six months. (Don’t worry lads, I’m going rugby training later tonight to man up a bit.)

But because of recent losses to people close to me I am always a few steps away from a good cry. However, I also felt an overwhelming sense of sadness for my many friends and family members who do not have God as an anchor in their lives yet.

I thought about how accessible a living relationship with God was and how a whispered prayer of tiny faith started the most immense journey of joy, adventure and truth any boy could wish for.

Nostalgia got the better of me and I prayed the same prayer that kicked it all off before I went to sleep to mark the 9th year anniversary of my Christian faith.

“Lord Jesus, I reckon you are who the bible says you are. I want you to be my Lord. I’m so sorry its taken me all this time to admit all this. I’m also sorry for ignoring you and doing it my way. Thank you for dying on that cross for us Jesus. I believe. Amen.”