Matthew Ch. 2 v 16-18.

Narrator.

A  rival to the throne
Somewhere unseen,
Unknown.
This would mean
All little boys must die
Who had been
That same night
Of visitation,
Under the flame-bright
Night sky
Of that star’s illumination;
Strange light

To identify
The World’s light
And those who’s plight
Became a dark abomination.

What’s a score
Of babes, or more?
Small thing
For a king

From hell to face,
A simple case
Of damage limitation.
It was just a few
And rather little
Boys that died,
A mere mini-genocide.

But guided by another dream,
It would seem,
The star King
Had by then gone,
With father Joe
And mother Mary
Already become one
More refugee
Family.

So in fact
The killing proved unnecessary.

But, fooled and ignored!
As king
From hell.
No lesser thing
Could so bring
Fear-blown pride
From its hide
And make it ring

The death knell
From a sword.
Yet a diff’rent sound
Was really made
As the blades
Cut each round
Angelic head
From trunk and limbs.
Just sounds of dripping
As they bled.

No note from steel was rung,
The only note heard sung’s
A mother’s scream
As over roofs it skims.

In this history
This mystery
This partly gory story,
Of joy and dreams,
Of lies and schemes,
Of fools and wise
And starry skies,

There’s one thing more,
Deep and terrible
That even wise men
Back then
Never saw.

Before this Truth,
Despite all schools
Of all wisdom’s worldly rules,
All wise become as fools.

That by this birth
The king of life
He came to Earth
To hell on Earth,
To bring a life
That’s otherwise unknown to you and I.

But to bring this life,
An innocent must die.

My mind wandered to some of Charles Dickens’ finest works as the barber’s dog sat at my feet for the entirety of my haircut. All I needed was a pipe and an open fire and I would have questioned if I had actually been raptured into heaven. As the sound of Radio Two created a comforting lull in the background, I was face to face with my reflection. Maybe it was the cosiness of the event or the warm, motherly nature of my hairdresser, but I was more conscious of the fact I was looking at myself than I had been in any other barbers before.

The first thing I clocked was that my jaw is actually getting more square as I get older. I’m known for hosting a “cube head” to quote my brothers, but now its getting a bit ridiculous. Also, my eyes, though as manically blue as ever, are not symmetrical. One of them is slightly smaller than the other. I was shocked to discover this fact. Another strange addition to my ever-changing block is that I am unable to grow facial hair on a specific area of skin next to my bottom lip. Its like a rebellious DNA streak refusing to buckle to my mousy-coloured stubble.

As I sat there scanning my facial features I also realised that I am now the shameful owner of half a wrinkle. The flimsy inroad sits northeast of my left eyebrow threatening to take over my forehead. My face is changing. I’m an ageing 26-year-old heading straight to the infamous 30 benchmark.

And as I came to my self-awareness conclusion that in a few decades I will look like a battered Oxo cube, I take great comfort in one of the wonderful promises in the bible. Check this out:

2 Corinthians 5:4-5

For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. Now the one who has fashioned us for this very purpose is God, who has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.

Yes, I am entirely mortal, but I won’t always be.

Peace.

Incredible. Out of all the apartments in the town, God chose to move into my block. I remember it so vividly, the moment I learned the almighty had moved in. I parked my trusted Punto in my designated space and clocked a brand new BMW a few places down. Though in the Bible God models true humility, it seems things have changed for the creator. The car’s number plate proudly read: Ade is God. Hallelujah. Its finally happened I thought.

I fell to my knees majestically in the car park, awe-struck. I chose not to dwell on the fact that God had revealed his new nickname, and also chose to spend £79,999 on a vehicle when some of his neighbours struggled to come to terms with devastating redundancies…after all, God can do what he likes. Hallelujah.

Some of the residents watched bewildered as I bowed continuously to the Lord’s chosen chariot. I felt sorry for them. How they would rue the day when they refused to bow before their God. I knelt for hours until it happened. The moment I’ve been anticipating my whole Christian life. I was approached by the Lord. He stood at just 5ft 6″ tall, and wore torn G-Star jeans and a t-shirt which had pictures of women on the front. Hallelujah, God cares about fashion…and women.

He looked at me as I bowed before him. And then he actually spoke. I broke down in tears as his voice engaged with my sinful being. “What are you doing mate?!” He asked me powerfully. I assumed the reason he called me “mate” was because I’d accepted the atonement of Christ which makes me a friend of God, saved by Grace, through faith so none can boast.

I mumbled an answer repeating the words Lord, saviour, forgive me, thank you. He opened his boot and reached for his robe, which was disguised as a brown River Island leather jacket. I waited for the moment where I’d have to give an account for my faith. But it never came. In fact none of the things listed in Revelations took place. I looked through my tears for the unattainable number of people groups singing in different tongues the songs of praise and worship for their saviour. I listened intently for the music of the heavenly realms and prepared myself for a glimpse of the new creation. But nothing happened. I slowly dried my eyes as BMW Ade stood over me and told me I was embarrassing him using some uncouth language and a violent gesture. “I thought you were God” I mumbled.

Turns out he’s not the messiah, he’s a very naughty boy.

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.

By Guest Blogger: Andy Drake AKA Hero.

Do you remember ‘Celebrity Deathmatch’? Don’t worry if you don’t, it just means you’re sophisticated.

‘Celebrity Deathmatch’ was a programme on MTV a few years back that had plasticine models of celebrities fighting each other in a wrestling ring. It was stupid of course but to the Philistines amongst us it was funny. Think about it; who wouldn’t want to see Simon Cowell and Tom Jones in a no-holds-barred fight?!?

Ok, only me then.

As I observe the Christian community, I am often reminded of Celebrity Deathmatch. Christians continue to slug it out with each other over all kinds of differences; this stream pits itself against that stream; this church is better than that church. Maybe even, “our men’s ministry is better than their men’s ministry”.

You’ve got to stop sometimes and ask; is this really what Jesus died for?

I had the pleasure of attending a planning meeting recently for a new men’s event in the South West of England. There were about 20 men representing all kinds of churches and theological persuasions. They were meeting together because they had a heart for seeing men live full on for Jesus. Not only were they debriefing a recent event they’d held for over 500 men, but they decided that night to up the ante and go aim to reach 1000 men next. Awesome.

Their united vision for declaring Jesus overrode any difference of opinion they might have had about secondary and tertiary issues. What an incredible example they set for me and you.

You know, I think that even when the things that currently divide the Christian community get sorted, new things will just take their place.

I’m not advocating ignoring the issues, but rather getting perspective on them. The eternal destiny of people around us and the spiritual direction of the country we are in have to be tier one priorities.

Sadly, it’s often men who are the loudest, most aggressive and most destructive when it comes to division in the church. For my part, I’ve seen enough Christian Deathmatch to last me a lifetime, and to be honest, I’m sick to the stomach.

We need a new generation of men who can disagree wisely and work together powerfully. Men who put their arms around their brothers rather than throwing jabs at them. Men focussed on the main battle and not distracted by side skirmishes.

What those men are doing in the South West can be done anywhere. So why isn’t it?

In ‘Heaven is for Wimps and Posh Women – Part Two’ I mentioned the way Jesus once told people about hell, using an accessible, ‘earthly’ place as an analogy. I think he sometimes talked about heaven using earthly ‘hooks’ in the same way. He said, for instance, there would be wealth in heaven—treasure—but not like earthly wealth. He hinted that valuing that kind of wealth went with a complete change of mindset—‘where your treasure is, there will your heart be also’[1].

You could say that was a bit like the sermon I heard where the evangelist said you wouldn’t enjoy heaven unless you were a Christian. But Jesus started from where people were. He reminded them how earthly wealth gets stolen and possessions deteriorate and He simply said that heavenly wealth doesn’t[2].

That’s a good investment in anybody’s book, especially after the banking crisis. He said that heaven’s wealth was a complete step up in value. He helped us grasp a bit of what this means—but only by letting a bombshell drop which puts all of economics in a completely different light. He said that the whole business of handling earthly wealth acted as a test for whether a man could be trusted with any of the stuff in heaven, at all[3].  He called that ‘true riches,’ which makes out earth’s wealth is sort of counterfeit by comparison. In the same conversation, he also seemed to hint something else about heaven, to do with wealth, which is mysterious but tantalising. He seemed to be saying that we don’t really know on earth, what it is to truly own something for ourselves[4]. We will be trusted with real ownership, only in heaven. In the light of that—what a con, earthly greed will turn out to have been in the end.

Will a bloke just sit around, just listening, sometimes singing and doing mostly passive things in heaven, like in most church services? I don’t think so. Jesus hinted that we would have responsibilities. He used the picture of us governing cities.[5] I think this means we will be useful.

The last book of The Bible says that we will be servants of God, reigning and bringing glory and honour into the heavenly ‘city’[6]. We’ll be working, doing stuff.  And I don’t think it means things like handing out the heavenly service sheets or checking the heavenly PowerPoint projector either. In fact, because Jesus seems to think that every aspect of heaven is bigger, more real and more significant than any counterpart on earth, then these responsibilities are going to dwarf any previous ones we’ve ever known. We’ll be more use in heaven than we ever were on earth.

But since we know there’ll being nothing bad in heaven, this won’t come with the grinding pressure or the fear of failure we know here. We can’t understand how, yet, but I think these responsibilities will be perfectly fulfilling, challenging and satisfying, without any downsides. And like the way we handle earthly wealth, Jesus made out that how we handled earthly responsibilities was a test for what heavenly responsibilities we would be trusted with.

There’s another mysterious hint about all this in the picture language of the last book of The Bible. It says that on reaching heaven, God will give each of us a new name and we will each be the only person who understands that name[7]. In other words, as far as God’s concerned there is something uniquely special and valuable about you and about how and why He made you.  There is a unique secret between each of us and God. Being finally told what it is, is a reward not a punishment. Some have said that it’s something to do with the work we’ll be doing. Some have said it’s something to do with each of us being made to appreciate a unique aspect of God. Whatever it is, it’s part of what we were each created for and it must be worth more than any other gift we could ever be given.

A man can sometimes look at a drop-dead gorgeous woman and feel something different from lust. Sometimes just what she looks like can speak of wisdom, grace, openness, strength and peace. Writers have used the phrase, ‘the face of an Angel’. This may be the closest many men come to what the World means by worship. Heaven must be where we find that earthly feeling is just a shadow of the real thing; where  the spell can’t be broken by some earthly ‘angel’ opening her mouth and telling you to … off, or breathe out the smell of stale cigarettes.

A man can turn to drink, drugs and loveless sex to look for satisfaction and fulfilment but fail to find it and become a slave of these things. Heaven must be the place where a man finds complete satisfaction and fulfilment in the only kind of slavery which gives him true freedom, and that is in service to God.

The preacher I mentioned in the first blog was right. Heaven must be full of praise and song and is only heaven because we will meet Jesus. But the praising won’t just be a passive, endless gazing at someone. Worship (praise) even in this life is described in the Bible in terms of how we live our lives[8]. So in heaven surely it will keep us involved in the most meaningful, useful, important, challenging, interesting and rewarding stuff we could imagine and beyond imagining. I don’t think time as we know it will be an issue. Any ‘singing,’ (to use our poor idea of singing), will be something more than we can now understand and it won’t depend on earthly talent or musical appreciation. It will be more welcome to us than water to a man dying of thirst.

Many men come closest to heaven on earth, at home with their family or with a bunch of mates they’ve shared adventures and hardships with. But for many people this ends in conflict, broken relationships, pain and regret. And death finally brings an end to all friendship and family bonds.

One picture of heaven in the Bible is a celebration feast with Jesus and the saints—our elder brother and our brothers and sisters in Christ[9]. But this image of heavenly friends and family isn’t going to inspire me deeply, if I’ve never had a strong bond with my Christian brothers and sisters in this life. And perhaps the secret truth deep inside many of us is that we don’t feel massively inspired, day by day by the prospect of eventually meeting Jesus. Perhaps this is related to why we don’t have a strong bond with our brothers. Perhaps it’s because virtually our only experience of Jesus is from reading His story in the Bible, wonderful as that is.

Only as we move on from that first knowledge and acceptance of Him and take risks in life, doing things for Him and with Him, which put our time, our comfort, our peace, our money, our career and our safety on the line will He begin to make himself known to us more and we know Him more.[10]

Only as we do this with a band of brothers will we feel a bond with them.

Only in this way will we begin to truly look forward to meeting Him and his saints as they shout ‘COME ON!’ to us on the home straight.

Only by doing this will we start to find out what heaven is like in this life, because it’s going to happen in the New Earth anyway.

Only as we do this will we know that heaven isn’t for wimps and posh women, but it’s where men find out what being fully masculine is about. And for that matter it’s where women find out what being fully feminine is about, posh or not.

So sign up to Codelife and just do it.

[2] Matthew 6:1,2

[3] Luke 16:11

[4] Luke 16:12

[5] Luke 19:17

[6] Rev chs 21 and 22

[7] Rev 2:17

[8] Rom 12:1

[9] Matthew 26:29; Rev 19:9

[10] Hebrews 6:1-3; John 14:21

Did you read ‘Heaven Is for Wimps and Posh Women Part One’? Did it annoy you? – I hope so. Preferably because you sympathised with blokes who can’t connect with churchy views on heaven, not because you thought I was being unfair on the preacher. It’s all lies though—I mean the western secular world’s take on heaven and hell. When you think about the effect this has on ordinary blokes, and when you judge this take against the real thing—well, if there really is a personal force of evil—a devil, then he’s a really cool operator; I mean, really shrewd (1). He could twist us around his little finger. It’s frightening.

There’s this thing which is the greatest thing we can ever experience. What we’ve all been made for, born for and we’re waiting for; the thing which trumps all other pleasures, satisfactions and experiences in life. And he’s got us so we hardly ever think about it and then, hardly ever seriously and often we find ourselves using our flawed church services, as a pathetic illustration of it.

Then there’s this thing which really is much worse than your worst nightmare; something which would be the biggest, most heart rending regret you could ever, ever imagine. And he’s got us thinking about it as though it’s an inspiration. He’s insidious, a manipulator, brilliant, and fiendish. And he’s against us.

We’ve got to break the cultural lie that hell is a tough, blokey, jokey even inspiring idea, not a reality. It’s not said directly—he’s far too shrewd for that. It’s all slowly drip-fed by vague associations.

We don’t have to look far to break the lie. We’ve started to produce the beginnings of hell, right here. In this world, people can be innocent victims of a hell caused by other people or guilty inhabitants of a hell caused by themselves.

Think of how it must have felt, being a child on the wrong side in the Rwandan genocide. You’re hearing the men with the machetes getting nearer and the screams getting louder. Your mum and dad are already dead and there’s nowhere left to run. You’re sinking into a pit of fear and despair with no way out. That’s the tentacles of hell, on Earth in the recent past.

Think of a young East European woman, an illegal, alone, today in a room somewhere in central London, held captive as a sex slave. She’s kept from making contact with the outside world so near at hand and forced to have sex with ten strangers a night. She’s beginning to lose her mind and wonders whether she’s still a person or whether she’s become just a living piece of meat. Suicide is looking like the only way out. That’s hell’s grip on our country, now.

Hell must be something like being a father who was in a road accident while driving under the influence of alcohol, and it killed his child. He lives for the rest of his life in an agony of regret. That degree of frustration might be something like Jesus’ meaning when he said hell was a place of ‘weeping and gnashing of teeth’ (2).

If we can make hells like this in this world where there is still some holding us back by God, through his common graces of law and order and basic civilisation, just think what sort of hell we can make if He finally accepts our repeated rejection of Him and He just leaves us to it, finally and forever outside His help.

If you found yourself in the real final hell and were conscious of its meaning, surely you would see that you had been completely conned about the whole of life, sold out, had been made the butt of a stinking joke, ratted on, been made a fool of because you were one, used and spat out by the person you realised you had been following—no less than the devil– and who you now saw was the Great Con Artist of all time (3), who hated you and who was still laughing at you.

You hardly need to add any sort of Divine retribution to that. But surely there has to be that as well, however unwanted or revolting the idea might seem to us. Otherwise the unknown, unheard victims of hells caused by other people would never have any comeback. They would not, in the end, matter. People would not, in the end, matter. Without real, final justice you do not matter—but you believe you do.

We know Jesus once described hell in terms of a local valley (4) known to his hearers which had a history of being the ancient site of child sacrifices and which at one time had been the place to burn the entire city’s filth. In their minds it must have been linked with everything which made you feel sick; everything which would disgust you.

I was once driving off-road in the mountains of southern Spain, and I suddenly found myself driving through the rubbish site of some village or other. Dark smoke filled the air. I was lost and alone and the only things I could see clearly were the glowing red centres of fires looking out at me like angry eyes, from inside smouldering rubbish piles. Until I finally found my way out, I felt something of the effect of Jesus’ illustration, even though for me the place didn’t have the horrific links which that valley had in the minds of his original hearers.

We should start to describe hell in some accessible earthly terms from today’s world, so men start to take it seriously for what it is.

1. Genesis 3:1

2. Matthew 25:30

3. John 8:44

4.‘Gehenna’(Greek), from ‘Ge Hinnom’(Hebrew) or The Valley of  Hinnom  south of Jerusalem.

What does the word ‘heaven’ say to ordinary blokes? There’s ‘chocolate heaven’ which sounds a bit girly and after all, is just a pudding which women especially drool over. Then a lot of stuff about heaven seems to get mixed up with all the romantic hoo-hah around Valentine’s Day, with cute little fat, baby cherubs in adverts floating about with tiny non-threatening, dangling willies (or willies safely covered by some random bit of scarfy looking stuff). But the only reason why blokes get onto the Valentine bandwagon is because the retail industry has got them on a guilt trip unless they buy a Valentine’s Day present for their partner.

When does a bloke say to his mate, ‘fancy going for a beer?’ and his mate says, ‘oh, that would be heaven!’– like never, unless they’re both heavily into amateur dramatics. On the telly or in films, the only people who say something is heavenly are upper class women or some bloke in the caricature role of the harmless, effeminate, bumbling twit of a country vicar. Heaven is where parents tell their little kids, Grandma’s gone when she’s just died, even when the old bird never mentioned the place or never appeared to give a tinker’s cuss about the place when she was alive.  Heaven is soft, fluffy, nice, boring, pale and filled with middle aged, middle class women in white dresses who spend their time getting a buzz from Philadelphia Cream Cheese.

Heaven is for wimps and posh women. And who gives a passing cloud for whether it really exists or not?

‘Hell’. Now there’s a word worth thinking about. ‘Give ‘em hell’ is a battle cry to strengthen your brothers in arms. Hell’s Angels are respected nowadays and ‘hell raisers’ are sort of rogues you admire. Hell Boy is a cool super hero. The primary American carrier-based fighter plane in the second half of World War II, the Grumman F6F, was called the Hellcat. The Scottish infantry regiments in the British Army still wore kilts into battle during the First World War. This and their fighting ferocity caused the German Army to honour them with the nickname, ‘The Ladies from Hell’.

‘We rode like bats out of hell’, is a proud achievement. ‘We’re in this till hell freezes over,’ is a determined vow of endurance and ‘we’re with you come hell or high water,’ is one of loyalty. Hell only starts to get nasty in those horror films with a touch of the occult in them, but—hey, they’re only films and you can come back to Earth with a beer and a curry afterwards. Hell only really gets a bit nastier with ‘restaurants from hell’—like the clip where the bloke complains and the CCTV shows the waiter in the kitchen peeing into his coffee. Or slightly worse, ‘neighbours from hell,’ but—hey, any bloke worth his salt would soon sort them out (if he wasn’t one himself—chortle, chortle).

‘Hell’ may not be nice but it’s not soft, fluffy, pale or boring either. Once you’ve chucked the worn-out joke version where little devils with tails run around pricking sinners with their forks, like unhappy barbecue sausages, what we’re left with  is challenging, exciting, dark red and crunchy. It’s definitely not for wimps or posh women.

My thoughts on all this weren’t helped a while ago when I sat through a sermon on heaven, meant for non-believers. As I write this I see that the phrase ‘sat through’ gives the game away. The preacher got very enthusiastic about heaven. He made out that heaven would be heavy on singing and a thing called praising, which was closely connected with singing. Everyone there would be full of joy because Jesus would be there. You wouldn’t be allowed in unless your sins were forgiven and got rid of. Perhaps the force of that might have been lost a bit by him saying that if you weren’t a Christian you wouldn’t enjoy it anyway. The logic that followed was—well, you’d better become a Christian so you could enjoy heaven.

The longstanding church goer in me who has been on the receiving end of ‘sound’ Bible teaching for years and years acknowledged that everything he was saying was true. The ordinary bloke in me, who steadfastly refuses to keep his thoughts to himself, thought the preacher had succeeded in making heaven out to be like an endless church service, which is another view of heaven which turns ordinary blokes off. It even turns some believing blokes off who have a boring or embarrassing experience Sunday by Sunday sitting passively in rows, listening to long monologues or singing songs they cringe to. But of course, it’s less likely to seem boring to the one bloke who gets a huge buzz standing up in front of them being 100% engaged in giving everybody else his message. That’s ironic—init.

It seemed to be one of the best examples I’ve heard, of preaching the Gospel mostly from inside your own mindset and not trying to put yourself much into the non-believer’s mindset. A likely result of this is a doctrinally accurate message, with no communication with the people you are trying to reach. Or worse, communication of a message you didn’t want to communicate. After all, if you won’t like heaven because you’re not a Christian, the obvious alternative to becoming one so you can enjoy it, is to say—well, because I can’t connect with this ‘heaven’ you’re talking about, I’ll do without both the heaven and the ‘becoming a Christian’ bit, thanks.  But perhaps I’m missing the point. Perhaps, on the subject of heaven, preachers in the UK today are only meant to be communicating with wimps and posh women. That can’t be right though, can it?

Heaven Is For Wimps And Posh Women is a 3-part blog. Part 2 will be published on Wednesday 17th November.