On a recent bitterly cold day I was trudging around the internment camp of Auschwitz, Poland, listening to my guide explain this building and that, when I came across a plaque that caught my attention. The plaque was affixed to the side of the wall of one of the buildings that housed the inmates. It marked the courageous life of one man by the name of Maximilian Kolbe, a Polish priest.

Plaque in Auschwitz Internment Camp for Maximilian Kolbe

The story of Kolbe is one I will not forget quickly. After an alleged escape attempt by a prisoner of the camp, the inmates were assembled and from them 10 men were selected for death by starvation. The random brutality of this response was designed to supress any fleeting ideal of escape that may have surfaced in the minds of the imprisoned men.

One of the chosen ten began to break down in tears as the realisation of his fate became apparent to him. At this point Kolbe steps forward from the ranks and offers himself in the place of his fellow inmate. Laughing, the camp’s officers agree.

Locked in a room underground, Kolbe and the 9 other men are left to slowly starve to death.

After the war was over, the camps liberated and the few inmates still alive rescued, one man by the name of Franciszek Gajowniczek limped away from Auschwitz to begin the rest of his life. His life had been spared by the selfless act of the polish priest, Kolbe, who a few years earlier offered himself in Gajowniczek’s place.

Kolbe’s act became the ‘salvation’ moment of Franciszek’s life, who incidentally went on to live to the ripe old age of 95. His entire future existence after Auschwitz was owed to one man, Maximilian Kolbe.

Ultimate Salvation

When Jesus Christ was nailed to a cross to pay the price for a crime he didn’t commit, what was happening had far deeper significance than the people murdering him knew at the time. The Romans had killed a man entirely unaware of the part that they played in the greatest selfless act the universe has ever witnessed.

When Jesus died, the pivotal point in all of human existence was permanently established. Jesus’ death was the salvation moment for not just one internment prisoner, but for the entire world imprisoned by sin and without hope.

God’s love and justice met at the cross. God himself took our place and paid for our mistakes and the mess of the world. Justice demanded due payment and as we faltered Jesus stepped forward and took our place, freeing us to life.

Established in History

You can visit Auschwitz today, as I did, and find the plaque honouring Maximilian’s life. You too can visit the small, dark cell where he was starved and murdered, as Gajowniczek did every year after his release. You can read the accounts of the fellow inmates and others at the camp published for the world to examine.

Maximilian’s story is grounded in history. His exemplary life and death still inspire many today.

So too Jesus’ exemplary life and death reach out to us from history to ask us to learn from his story. Attested to by reliable eye-witness accounts, preserved through written records for generations after to examine, the stories of Jesus Christ reach out to us today and leave us with a question to answer.

Maximilian died and we celebrate him for a hero. We can ask why he did what he did but we ask that question from the comfort of our own detached lives, in the knowledge that the benefit from the act was spent on one man.

But with Jesus the benefit is yet to be determined. Jesus’ story isn’t merely inspiring, a courageous tale of an act of wonderful human selflessness. That’s because the story of Jesus’ life and death isn’t over. We don’t observe it neatly wrapped, framed, and simply restricted to the historical annuls.

When we read of the life and death of Jesus we become aware that we are immediately and inescapably involved in the story. Jesus died that all people would be liberated from their mess and the mess of the world. The benefit of his ultimate selfless act isn’t reserved for one man alone but open to all of us.

Jesus stepped forward, in front of us, to take our place, and set us free. The great selfless act has happened and the freedom that has been bought at great price is offered to you now. The only question now left is: of what benefit is his sacrifice to you?

‘Prove to me that God exists’, a bloke I was chatting to at a bar said to me. I was drinking a lime alcopop that I’d been given on the house. It was disgusting, and my cheeks were cowering inwards by the second.

Whilst my drink was uncommon and grotesque, his request was not. One of the major reasons people give for not believing in God is simply that ‘there’s no proof’. Now, it will often be phrased as ‘there’s no evidence,’ but what they really mean is proof – something concrete that would absolutely seal the deal, like God writing his name across the sky in stars.

There’s a lot that’s troublesome about that assertion, though.

It may make you feel enlightened and robust to say ‘I’d believe if there was irrefutable proof’, but the reality is that you wouldn’t submit any other aspect of your life to that charge. Outside of pure mathematics, people don’t talk about ‘proof’ in that strict sense. We look at the evidence and make a judgement on where that evidence leads. Nobody owns evidence. We all have the same data to work with.

You will hear people say it. ‘I only believe in what can be proven.’ Fool of a Took! Nobody does – that’s just a soundbyte. For starters, you can’t even prove that the previous sentence is true!

I can’t prove my wife loves me, or that I love her. I can put forward a good case, and I’d be happy to show you the scrapbook that I’ve collated for just such a purpose, but I can’t prove it using science or logic. But if I’d only acted on what could be proven irrevocably beyond doubt, I would never have plucked up the courage to ask her out, and we wouldn’t now be happily married.

There’s so much I can’t prove. I can’t prove to you that 50 Shades of Grey is the worst book ever written and that the author should be force-fed every copy a page at a time until she learns to never do it again and signs a binding contract to that end; but it is nevertheless true.

The point is this: If someone genuinely does live believing in only what can be proven, then they will end up desperately alone, because they will never know love. Even Sheldon Cooper engages in relationship without concrete formulae. So maybe the idea of irrefutable proof is just a cop-out.

The sister statement, that tends to hang around with the idea of irrefutable proof, is the following: ‘If there was a God, He would have proven it to us by now.’ The technical response is the same as above, that nothing that really matters to you in life can be proven in that academic sense. Love, Hope, Beauty, Purpose, Forgiveness: These are the things that really count on a day-to-day basis, and we all know them to be true, even though we can’t prove it.

But when it’s said that God would have proven Himself by now, it’s perfectly correct to assert that, actually, He has – to millions and millions and millions of people across the globe and throughout time. And maybe if you haven’t met him yet, maybe that’s because you’re looking for equations instead of relationship.

Because God’s chief aim is not to get you to merely or blindly believe in Him. ‘Even the demons do that, and tremble’, says the book of James. Again, I believed my wife existed long before I started going out with her. But belief in itself doesn’t bring love or warmth or delight. It was only by getting to know her and spending time with her that those things were possible. Same with God: He wants us to know Him, not just know about Him. There’s nothing to suggest that if God drew His name across the sky in stars, more people would be drawn into a loving relationship with Him.

The guy I was chatting to at the bar was, sadly, far too hammered on the limey alcopop freebies to care what I had to say. I’ve got a few bottles in my kitchen still. I can’t prove to you how disgusting it is as a drink, but if you wanted to come round and taste it for yourself, you’d know I was telling the truth. And then you’d vomit.

… if I have faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing … and now these three remain, faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. (1 Corinthians 13)

Yes faith makes a difference, Yes hope makes a difference but without love the bible says many of our efforts may turn out to be hollow – without love we are nothing.

Sebastian Coe in the opening ceremony of the London Olympics, said that the most important aspect to human life was the pursuit of the highest human achievement – whilst this is obviously a very commendable objective and to be encouraged, the bible shows us that this can be far from God’s main desire from us and humanity – he wants us to looks at our character and in-particular at our heart – his first priority is to see a foundation of love in our lives – this is even more important than human achievement, even more important than having faith to move a mountain.

When we look at all that Jesus went through, especially the cross, what do we think enabled him to endure such things and not fall – here again I believe the bible points to his relationship with his father God, a relationship built on love.

As Christian men we need to be clear about what is the foundation and motivation behind what we do in life and in particular what we do as expressions of our faith to others – it is not about charging into spiritual warfare guns blazing, not about winning at all costs, not about doing as the world does – No, it is about being men who unlike so many, do things differently and stand firm on God’s foundation of love, a love that is able to motivative us to do great things for our father, endure any weather and be there for and with our neighbours in any part of the world.

Do things differently … but the greatest of these is love.

Love. Love. Love. All you need is love. If that’s the case why is it so hard for Christian men to say they love Jesus? I can understand a certain reticence to be too lovey dovey when trying to talk to non-Christian men about Jesus. I can understand focusing on different aspects of God for that. But Christian men? Christian men are often being told that they have been emasculated, that churches provide mainly for women and I wouldn’t argue with all this at all. But is there a case for reclaiming some words rather than trying to say them differently?

It seems to me that the love Jesus displayed was not a frilly, doily type of love but a love that drove Him to the cross. “Greater love has no-one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends” said Jesus, and He should know. Jesus’ love caused Him to tell His friends that they showed little faith, to call one of them satan. His love caused Him to call out hypocrites, to upturn tables, to drive crowds into murderous bloodlust. His love drove Him to complete His mission by being tortured and nailed to a tree. His love was patient but it was also true, it was gentle but it was also fierce.

Maybe if we loved more like Jesus we wouldn’t have to convince people that it’s ok to love and be loved by Him. That’s the kind of love I can sign up to. John 15:12 ‘My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.’

Let me tell you about the oldest woman in my city. She is incredible. I’ve not known her that long, but as soon as I gave her the time of day a few years back, I knew I’d be friends with her for the rest of my time here. She met me when I was going through a tricky time in my life. And though at first, I assumed a lady like her wouldn’t want anything to do with someone like me, I couldn’t have been further from the truth. I noticed straight away that she is the sort of woman who remembers people’s names.

I’ll be honest, she’s not an expert in many things, but she puts a fair shift in. For instance, she cooks for me and many others every week. She offers to help me out when I’ve fallen on hard times. And without fail, she always asks me how I’m doing in my life and is keen to meet my mates at any given opportunity.

I did a bit of research into her life due to her lack of boasting. And get this; she has done pretty much everything. I read about her early years and was mesmerised as I found out about her time in Asia Minor when she was attacked because of what she believed. I wept as I read about her time in China when many of her family members were executed for sharing the same faith as her. Never has a life story gripped me so much as hers. She worked as a nurse in wartime, a teacher during the apartheid and she even helped rebuild houses and schools after the devastation of natural disasters in recent times.

At first I thought she was a perfect human being, but she soon stopped me in my tracks. She confessed to a lifetime of mistakes. I was told about how some men had taken her down roads she had never intended to travel. She told me that regret was never far from her despite the difference she had made in the world. She even remembered the names of those she had offended by not prioritising them when it mattered. As she fought back the tears, I tried to remind her of the people she had helped in her life. However, she simply confessed to being constantly reminded of her past failures.

After hearing her life story to date, I couldn’t help but cry with her in the middle of York city centre.

Some of my friends found out that I started meeting with the old lady regularly, and their reaction was somewhat varied. One of my friends described her as an outdated failure. (I later found out that he had actually been fed, watered and loved by the same old lady a few years previous, but he had forgotten.) Another mate of mine scoffed at her charitable works and muttered: “Let’s face it, she’ll be dead soon.” I was stunned to hear such volatile words spoken about such a humble and honest woman.

I shared my friend’s comments with the old lady last week, and was once again floored by her reaction. She told me that she had never been perfect, and for every good deed she had carried out, she also made a mistake. However, it was her parting words to me which I’ll never forget. She said: “Alex, I’m trying to get better at how I love people. Please tell your friends that I’m sorry I failed in this love.”

My friends were not interested in redemption though. And I’m learning that redemption is their prerogative and not mine. However, I informed them that I would not stop having coffee with the old lady. For all she has done for me and people like me all over the world, I will be forever grateful. I also told my friends that despite their rigid opinions, I would not allow any of them to say horrible things about her in front of me. She is my sister, my guardian, my healer, my teacher and my best friend. She is more than 2000 years old. Her name is Church. Mrs Local Church, and I’d take a bullet for her.

Peace.

The queue was huge and it didn’t seem to be going down at all. I knew I should have left five or even ten minutes earlier, I could have done without this.

There were shelf stackers but there was only one person on the tills. That’s the problem with these express supermarkets – you know, the ones that are just about two or three times the size of corner shops. There’s always some old lady with an overflowing basket, and three people behind wanting to pay for four items between them. It’s SO frustrating.

I go along to a film night with friends from church every Monday (‘man night’, as one of the lad’s girlfriends calls it – it’s strictly an evening for the fellas). We always have a bit of pre-movie banter, before we reveal our contenders for the weekly viewing, ahead of the eagerly awaited vote. I hate turning up late for it but it was looking inevitable on this ocassion.

When I’d finally paid for my microwavable popcorn, after much tutting and groaning as I made my way to the front of the queue, I was out of there. I drove nearer 40mph through the sleepy 30mph Northumberland village but I noticed cars up ahead were turning around. There was a police car with lights flashing and a cop standing, arms folded, blocking the road. Closed. Great.

It added another ten minutes onto my journey and they were all 30mph zones; although apparently a two mile stretch was a 22mph section, if the speed of the old chap in front of me was anything to go by. I cheekily attempted to look beyond his ugly lime green Micra, seeking a chance to take him, but it was a curvy road and pedestrian crossings were preventing me from going for it. If I was gonna even make the start of the film let alone the pre-movie cuppa and chat, I’d have to get lucky at the level crossing that I knew was just around the corner.

But no. Another three minute wait, which I’m sure I would have avoided had the old timer in front gone a tad faster or been good enough to pull over and let me get on with my life.

I arrived at my friends feeling infuriated and angry. As I knocked on the door of his first floor flat, shook his hands and climbed the stairs, I was alarmed to find that no-one else had even arrived yet.

I went to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror as the vein in my temple began to settle. I was wondering how many crosses God would have given me on the old ‘would others know you’re a Christian?’ chart. Deliberately showing my frustration to staff and shoppers in a supermarket queue? Driving like an idiot and breaking the law? Intimidating an old man in his car? Thinking of myself when there had most likely been an accident leading to a road closure?

Patience is a virtue. After God instructed Noah to build the ark, he waited 120 years before he heard from God again, but he treated others fairly, took years of mocking and abuse, loved the Lord and conitnued to obey Him – and he built one heck of a huge boat, during a major drought! I can learn a lot from that guy.

A crept slowly towards my balcony overlooking the car park where the gang loitered. “I can see you” I whispered, like a cross between James Bond and Fireman Sam. They had been hanging around Ady’s BMW and my slightly older Fiat Punto for days but this time I wasn’t going anywhere. My eyes were fixed on this army of tracksuits.

I pondered on their intentions. Maybe they were eying up potential cars with a five-finger discount. Perhaps they preferred to leave their mark on the side of vehicles with a set of house keys. Or maybe they particularly liked standing in the middle of a private car park watched by yours truly: Eagle Eyes Willmott.

One of the gang members walked away from the group and stood beside my car. I had my iPhone ready to call the authorities like any good journalist would. “I’ve got you now fella” I muttered under my breath. And what happened next was truly incredible. As soon as the estranged gang member turned his back, the others scarpered down the alleyway…they were playing a game of hide & seek.

I watched for five minutes as the lad scurried around the wheely bins and nearby trees in an attempt to find his mates. Of course I could see where they were all hiding, which made it far more exciting for me.

Is it wrong to fear for the welfare of a Fiat Punto I call Stan? Probably not, but I’m sure it’s not healthy. I guess my hope is to become a bit more optimistic when viewing those around me as I get older.

Ephesians 4:31-32

Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.

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.”

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.

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.