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

Out of everything I’ve seen, heard, tasted and felt, nothing has ever terrified me more. The fear wrapped around me like a straitjacket. I spewed out expletives in front of my beautiful girlfriend and some random families who had joined us on this horrifying excursion in Wendover forest. It’s called Go Ape (But I re-named it Go Home after the first few minutes).

Some funny guy came up with the idea to attach ropes, monkey bars and zip wires to the top of 35ft trees so that humans could throw themselves about like animals. Miriam loves all that. In fact, she has less fear than me generally, but when it comes to throwing yourself from a tree into a flimsy net from 35ft, she beats me all over the park. I took her there on the weekend for her birthday, because I think about her needs before my own…until the fear takes me out for dinner. Guys, you should have seen it. This funky tree surgeon guy even told me that my harness could support the weight of a Land Rover. But it wouldn’t have mattered if he had said it could have supported two planets, seven tanks and my mate Plank; facts are meaningless when it comes to fear.

Miriam ploughed through the trees leaping from one mid-air bridge to the next and shouting strange words like “Awesome” and “Immense” as the zip wire transported her over a main road. I however, clenched every part of my poor Welsh body whilst I begged God to forgive me for my stupidity and pride in attempting to conquer my fears for the fondness of a girl. Never have I thought so much about death.

At the first “small jump” I turned to Miriam and apologised before declaring my abandonment. She first put her hand on my arm for encouragement (Though I thought she was attempting to throw me off the tree so I freaked out) she then used persuasive words to spur me on, but none of these things worked.

As I looked around for the tree surgeons to rescue me from my nightmare, I caught a glimpse of something which changed my trail of thought. My mentalist girlfriend was smiling. She was completely at peace despite being hung from a height that would concern a chimp. And in that moment I knew she was not afraid. Later on that day, after I completed the course and received my Go Ape certificate for my CV folder, I was reminded of a verse which quietened my shell-shocked soul.

1 John 4:16-20

And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him. In this way, love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the Day of Judgment, because in this world we are like him. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because he first loved us.

My fear of heights is neither here nor there in the greater scheme of things. But I also have other fears which sit close to my soul waiting for the best opportunities to cripple me. I need to remember God’s love to give me any chance of walking in freedom.

Peace.

He doesn’t know who Robert De Niro is but he can explain photosynthesis in less than a minute. Oxford Graduate in Bio Chemistry, Christopher Anderton, dances like someone under attack. I saw this first hand in the Island of Crete. I could spend hours commenting on how one of my new best mates looks like the main character is Where’s Wally, or how he proudly reads the New Scientist magazine in public, but I won’t mention those things.

As the plane left the ground in Manchester the same old fear bounced around my empty head. The fear of engine failure. Don’t get me wrong…as a Christian I believe Jesus was spot on when he gave us eternal life. I am also convinced of the authenticity of the Resurrection after studying the evidence. I know my future in this world and beyond is in the hands of that same Jesus who smashed the power of death. However, as soon as my life is temporarily in the hands of a commercial aircraft pilot call Rick, who I have never met, my alpha male tendencies shrink into an embarrassing sweat. I clench my fists around my seat belt, which soon prevents any blood flowing to the organs beneath my rib cage.

I looked at Christopher Anderton. I thought if I was scared, then this geek would be a blubbering mess of a man for sure. (And he wears glasses.)

He saw the look of dread in my eyes and asked if I was ok. I was impressed by his overall calm demeanour, but knew full well he must have been saying goodbye to his insides deep down. I replied: “No Chris of course not. What if a flock of birds get caught in the engine? What if a small crack beneath my seat opens up and I’m sucked out like a tic tac? What if snakes on a plane wasn’t just an awful film, but a superb documentary? Have you thought about this stuff?! Have you!!”

He chuckled to himself. He then said: “Alex, I have thought about these things of course. But I’m not scared of death. And what a way to go to glory, evangelising to the passengers around you as you soar through the clouds. Don’t be afraid Al. You idiot.”

As a beer-drinking, anthem singing, football fan of a Christian, I need to be careful I do not fall into the same trap as the hypocrite who boxes people up into categories. We are much more comfortable using the term “man’s man” here in the British church these days, in a bid to reach out to the average Joe. And that is totally fine. However, we cannot pigeon hole men into manliness because of their drinking habits or the volume of their voice. We must not become like men’s magazine editors describing what a Real Man looks like. Christopher Anderton AKA Mr Bean, is a real man. He trusts God’s Word and does not fear what most men do in this world.

Let’s read the opening of Psalm 1 and consider what a real man looks like.

Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, or stand in the way of sinners, or sit in the seat of mockers.

But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night.

He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither.

Whatever he does prospers.

Men of faith, let’s spend more time meditating on the promises of our king. Who knows, he might bless us with courage, strength, vision, joy and honour. He might just do that for us.

Peace.

My friend Mak is an engineer. He is currently working on a airship which flies itself. Get a load of that…it flies itself for crying out loud. I can barely dress myself, and this machine will be able to fly all on it’s own. Last week my laptop starting ringing like a mobile phone. I opened it up and my Dad’s face was on the monitor and I could hear him speaking to me from Bangladesh. It was one of the most disturbing experiences of my life. For a second I actually thought my dad had infiltrated my mind and was taunting me through my laptop. They call that technology Skype, but I call it the Matrix.

In less than eight months it is claimed that a group of London scientists will have invented an alcohol which has all the pleasurable aspects of a normal bevvy, but absolutely no detrimental effects on the liver or the mind. I have just rammed a nasal spray canister up my nose because I have a cold, and though it has only been 15 seconds since I used it, I can now breathe perfectly. Gents, there is no denying it, the human race has technology in a head lock and is ramming it into new leagues every single day.

But we still have one major thing in common with the sloth. We have no clue what is going to happen in ten minutes time.

The technology to predict what is yet to happen does not look like surfacing in our lives anytime soon. In fact, though we can order food through a computer and get it delivered to our front door, if just 1cm of water falls onto the road leading to your house, and that water freezes, you won’t be getting your pizza anytime soon. Human beings have conquered space travel, but still cannot tackle a little bit of ice on the road.

On Sunday night I bowed my head with my Christian friends and we prayed for our futures. Usually when I pray for my future I ask God to guide me to new things. New house, new car, important things like that

But as I read more about Jesus I am struck by how many times he tells his followers not to worry about what’s coming next.

Though it is true our fast-food culture blatantly urges the individual to sign up for things now, it also whispers “Be afraid” and “What if”. Adverts about what will happen if you do not buy into something are on the rise. I have recently been told that my skin will wrinkle, my hair will fall out and the windscreen on my Fiat Punto will crack, unless I hand my money over now.

So I worry about my future. Even when I pray I worry about it. And then I realise I’m not actually praying, I’m babbling. When I talk to God about my future I sound like I don’t really trust him. I emphasise certain things to make sure he hears them properly. Like God has a hearing difficulty or something. “My God is great, deaf as a post but still great.”

I need to get real about what Jesus says about my future. Talking to his followers in the account of Matthew, he says:

“Your Father knows what you need before you ask him…
“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

I need to stop babbling like a drunken clown and start trusting.

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.