With over 500 million users Facebook is quite the online meeting place. The second most popular website on the Internet occupies many users’ browsing time and is the go-to place for people wanting to keep in touch with friends both locally and globally.

You can access Facebook on your computer, mobile phone, games console … any web connected device really. Users are never more than a couple of clicks away from logging in to this cyber-network of relationships.

Love it or hate it, it’s popular and people use it. And that’s why CVM are on Facebook. It’s simply another way of connecting with people out there, sharing our resources, telling people about events and getting people involved.

So if you’re on Facebook come and say Hi to us. While you’re at it, tell your friends about us … Let’s see if we can get up to 1000 followers by the weekend! We publish all our blogs, videos, pictures, events etc. online as well as up-to-the-minute reports of what’s going on and where.

So come and say Hi, tell your friends and let’s see if we can hit 1000 fans by the weekend! Thanks and see you online!

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Dave was in the eyes of the world a loser and a total scumbag.

As soon as he got up in the morning he would start to down litre-sized bottles of strong, cheap cider.  Usually before midday he was hitting his girlfriend.

I used to see her walking around the estate with black eyes and/or bruises and scratches on her arms and legs.  She was naturally really beautiful but life was more than tough to her and here she was in her early 30’s looking 10 years older.  When you managed to make eye contact with her (which was rare as she was always looking at the floor) she had a hollow look of being haunted and scared.

The blokes on the estate kept their distance from Dave.  In fact they despised him and they let me know it.  He was a social outcast and as far as most people were concerned should burn in hell. (Strange how people believe in hell when it suits them …)

I went to see Dave a couple of times one week. Once when his girlfriend was there.  I found him surprisingly open about stuff and genuinely horrified by his behaviour, desperate that he didn’t seem to be able to stop himself.  I didn’t have any answers really but said I would keep in touch.

Over the months I started to see him quite often.  Mostly our chats were superficial but I helped them with stuff and if anything, just tried to be some kind of stable influence.  There were lots of complications of course.  After all he was assaulting her.  But there was no way the police were ever getting involved.  It just wasn’t like that there; it wasn’t what you did.  I felt powerless.

Then the phone call came.

“Get round to Dave’s place now.  He’s on a right bender…”

Two minutes later I was standing outside his flat along with about 12 other people and listening to screaming coming from inside the flat.  Not a woman’s voice though.  It was Dave.  Looking through the letterbox I could see him smashing his head against the wall, face covered in blood, snot and tears.

Biting the bullet I pushed the door open, only to have Dave charge at me and throw himself into my arms.

A few minutes later we were sitting opposite each other in his little living room.  A few minutes after sitting there in silence, he picked up a glass and smashed it into his own face and started trying to eat it in a very poor attempt at killing himself.

An hour later I was in A&E whilst Dave, under police escort, was examined and patched up by a nurse and interviewed by a psychologist.

5 hours later we were back at his flat.  Dave with stitches and me with a blood stained shirt.

Later that evening I had to drop into a church leaders meeting but found myself too choked to take part, so left to go and hang out with Dave again.

After not getting a response from knocking on the door I pushed it open and went in to find Dave hiding under a coffee table in the corner of the room.  I sat there with him until about 2am in silence, until he finally emerged from under the table and sat opposite me again.

What I hadn’t noticed earlier in the day was Dave’s goldfish bowl with a solitary fish in it. Miraculously it had survived the earlier living room carnage.

Then, one of the most profound conversations in all my work with people happened. It went like this:

Dave (in a slurred voice due to stitches):  “I love my goldfish. I really do.”

Beechy: “Yeah it’s a great fish.”

Dave (now crying): “No one’s ever told me they love me, I’m a piece of shit.”

Beechy: “God loves you mate …”

Silence.

On the way home I had a strange set of feelings and emotions. Lying in bed later thinking, it finally dawned on me.

I loved Dave as well.

I didn’t know why.  He hadn’t done anything for me.  He was an abuser and a black hole of desperate need.   I can remember thinking that perhaps I was feeling what God was feeling for him?  I think maybe I was … I’ll tell you why I think that some other time.

Perhaps also it was because behind all the rubbish and the carnage, that night I had seen he was a scared, frightened, insecure, fragile, messed up, sinful, violent person, who was also one of Gods beautiful creations who desperately needed God’s peace.

I carried on seeing him and saw him finally one day pray to Jesus.  The very last time I saw him was at a bus stop carrying a book about the evangelists “tough talk”.  I like to think he was on the next stage of the journey.  Guess I will one day know!

I found out sometime later that Dave had all the classic horror in his background.  Beaten horrifically by a Dad who eventually ran off, a mum who was disengaged and drunk most of the time.  No strong male role models etc. etc.

That’s not an excuse; it just drove the point home to me.

That’s partly why I do what I do …

The question is.  What can we all do to reach out to those in our society we call untouchable?

Luke 4:18 rings in my ears …

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But before the big launch Anthony is blogging on different chapters to give you a taste of the material to come. Not only that but with your feedback the book could get even better!

Check out Anthony discussing the latest chapter: Friends on his blog.

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By way of Ray Ortlund.

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As the Muslim lady walked passed the outdoor seating area of the refurbished bar, my friend Dave and I were left horrified as an English lager lout shouted: “Oi take your mask off!”.

I turned 26 on Tuesday and read through the massively encouraging cards which had been sent from Wales, York and Preston.

Looking back on this week I can safely say that the power of the human tongue is quite simply phenomenal. The power to change a life with words is also highlighted throughout the teachings of the word of God. However, it’s not just the things we say, be they good or bad, but often in my life and the lives of my friends, it’s the things we do not say.

Was it more or less painful for the Muslim lady to hear the racist comment or the silence of the beer garden drinkers after it was shouted? I said nothing as that arrogant yob hurled his abuse at an easy living target who dressed differently.

The frown I wore across my aging face when the couple insulted the homeless guy is as pathetic as their words. If I don’t start speaking up for those who are being silenced, then what good are my frowns, my thoughts or my blogs? What is the point in me following Jesus, the Messiah who stuck up for those outcast by an arrogant society, if I refuse to do the same?

In the book of James it reads: “With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers, this should not be.”

My birthday wish is to man up and speak up this year. Brothers, please pray for this.

Peace.

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With this in mind, three events were planned in fairly quick succession … a quiz night in April, a Father’s Day celebration in June, and then an event to celebrate the World Cup final – three events where the community could be welcomed.  Only the Father’s Day event was explicitly evangelistic, but all three gave God’s people the opportunity to love people through hospitality and through conversation, and also to grow together through teamwork.  This last bit is absolutely key, because for all three events people have worked their socks off moving chairs, making and serving food and drink, welcoming and inviting people, and generally working to do all they can to make these events happen.  Afterwards, we’ve all been left with a real (and deserved) sense of achievement.

I’m a dreamer, a big picture guy.  Details are really not my thing.  This can be useful, because generally means I have great ideas (even if I say so myself!), but it also has its drawbacks – I have absolutely no idea how to put them into place! Hosting a World Cup special event was a perfect example.  I thought it would be brilliant to host a family-friendly event in our church where people could gather to watch the football.  We could precede the match with a barbecue, all-age kick-around and other football-related activities.  Brilliant! So, the event was approved, the date was fixed, before we knew how we’d actually screen the football.  After all, how hard could it be?

Very hard, actually!  The church building was a logical venue for the big match, but the church didn’t have a TV aerial installed.  No problem – simply take the signal from the vicarage – we’d only need about 30m of coaxial cable!  And then there was the small matter of the massive West window, which would make it difficult to actually see the screen.  No problem – let’s black it out with paper!  A crazy idea, but one which might just work.  But then came the seeming death knell to the event – an email that notified us that FIFA required organisations to obtain a special licence to screen the football in public.  When did I find out? 10 days after the application deadline passed.  But people knew about the event.  We couldn’t pull the plug now

Then my wife, Liz, had a brainwave – put a marquee in the garden and screen it there.  It would be on our private property.  People would be there on our invitation, so it wouldn’t be a public event.  Perfect!  All we needed to do was find a marquee, which, amazingly, a member of the congregation happened to own.  Brilliantly, it fitted in our garden – just!  Another member of the congregation happened to own a gazebo, which was perfect for housing the screen and projector.  We were up and running.  All we needed was to get the signal from the TV aerial to the digital receiver in the garden, and from the receiver to the projector.  Easy … or not! Bought cheap cables from eBay, which didn’t work.  Someone donated coaxial cable for us to use … that didn’t work!  I did one of the things I do best, which is panic!  After panicking, we bought more expensive cable and ready-made coaxial cable, and finally, only six days before the world cup final, all was sorted.  Talk about cutting it fine!

As the above demonstrates, I have to work really hard (often with people who have far more than myself) to ensure that everything goes as smoothly as possible – and even then, things don’t always go to plan.  Take the father’s day celebration for example.  The timing couldn’t have been worse – it came three days after I returned with my family from a two-week holiday.  The day after my return, I went on an ordination retreat for two days and was ordained priest the day before the event.  It was a crazy few days.  Knowing all this in advance, I did all I could to plan the event meticulously – doing the necessary technology bits, preparing the service, and delegating other tasks.  It was all sorted.  I was ultra-organised.  But then, on my return, I discovered that the guest speaker was unable to make the engagement.  Suddenly I found myself writing the talk before the suitcases had been unpacked!  I also found myself asking a couple of guys at very late notice to share their testimony.  Thankfully they agreed, even though they’d had only a couple of hours to prepare.  Amazingly the event all came together and we welcomed a good number of people into our church to celebrate the joys of fatherhood.  One guy came along who’d previously sworn he’d never set foot in church again.  That alone made all the stress well worth it.

As I write it’s a week after the world cup final event.  The gazebo and marquee are still in my garden; the only reminders of the “World Cup Final Family Festival” hosted jointly by our church and one of the village’s community groups.  It was a very long afternoon and evening, a lot of hard work, but also a lot of fun.  A good number of people (the majority of whom were not regular church-goers) came to the event.  We had a great time together and were blessed by the weather, which, thank God, remained warm and dry.  Everything went smoothly and I was left with a cocktail of emotions once the final whistle blew and the last people left – relief, exhaustion, euphoria, excitement and above all, thankfulness to God.  After all, so much could have gone wrong – it could have rained, the technology could have failed, people may not have turned up, people may not have put in the hours of hard work to make the events happen – but it didn’t.

A week on, I’m still pretty exhausted but the sense of gratitude remains, along with a sense of wonder that our amazing God would allow me to have so much fun working with so many amazing people to share his love with the community.  I may have been flying by the seat of my pants, but I’ve got by thanks to the overwhelming grace of God.

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This year we’ve seen loads of interest in these places – which is fantastic news! As a result however we are now all sold out!

As well as this our regular places are moving pretty quickly too. So make sure that you reserve your place now, otherwise there might not be any space for you!

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The fact I had passed the 8km marker brought a wry smile to my red face. Who was this pace maker in front of me? Was this his first long distance race like mine? Did his lower back feel like it was about to fall through his legs? Why was he cocking his head to one side and blowing profusely through his left nostril? What is this sticky, watery-like fluid now running down my face?! Oh yes friends, he just blew his nose and the wind directed his release to my head. What a wonderful way to celebrate the final stint of a charity run.

The crowds of people cheered us on as we hit the final straight in Blackburn. My adopted hometown in East Lancashire proved a fitting place for me to complete my debut distance attempt. The finish line stood like a human magnet drawing this painful saga to an end. I shifted gears and performed a sprint finish. I must have looked like a disabled gorilla after seven pints of Stella. Lying face down on the grass in Witton Park, surrounded by fellow fund raisers, I was stunned by the sense of unity. We had done it. All in different ways and in different times. Each of us wearing different colours inspired by different stories. We started the race as strangers but sweat like friends throughout. Our team of journalists who ran together shared quirky events which had faced them on the journey. Some spoke of the temptations to stop, puke and/or faint. Others ushered in their hard-earned rest which was to come. We all laughed at the Welsh boy (yours truly) who was at one time covered in the snot of a stranger.

Carl Beech once drew a parallel between his Marathon efforts and the Christian experience, and how right he was.

My conclusion was this. At the end of our race, it’s not that we will forget the messy, nonsensical invasions of our lives, nor will we pretend the pain was a mere sub plot. We will however, be so engrossed in the welcome which awaits us who keep our hope in the words of the one they call Jesus, that we will consider everything else as second best.

Some of us have barely left the starting point in our Christian faith, whilst others are performing their sprint finish. Some however, are wiping down their faces after a seriously unpleasant encounter. In our different shirts and various abilities, we run this life awaiting a full revelation of what we have seen in glimpses. The finish line of the faithful.

Read the words of John as he peers into heaven in the book of Revelations:

I turned around to see the voice that was speaking to me. And when I turned I saw seven golden lampstands, and among the lampstands was someone like a son of man, dressed in a robe reaching down to his feet and with a golden sash around his chest. His head and hair were white like wool, as white as snow, and his eyes were like blazing fire. His feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace, and his voice was like the sound of rushing waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, and out of his mouth came a sharp double-edged sword. His face was like the sun shining in all its brilliance. When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. Then he placed his right hand on me and said: “Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades.”

This is the finish line we are stumbling towards.

Peace.

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Friday morning I was woken up at 5am when a German Shepherd dog decided to lick my face in Chesterfield. (Thankfully I wasn’t dreaming anything dodgy at the time.) This dog is obsessed with shadows. It waits for any movement in the room before pouncing on the silhouette in an attempt to claw it out of the floor. I tried to show the dog that it was my hand which brought the shadows to life. I tried to teach the dog that shadows were reactions to movements; secondary results to primary motion. The dog was more interested in the shadows. My teachings are not even appreciated in the canine world. Hard times.

The truth is that Jesus knew the world would find it hard to put its trust in an unseen God after he died and rose again. The scriptures tell us it was because of this issue that he left his Spirit here so that we would know the Truth and it would set us free.

Sometimes I feel like I’m a dog chasing shadows in the floor. I often wish I could see God like my friend sees his new Audi. I wish I didn’t have to keep my eyes fixed on an unseen Saviour who speaks to us through his word. If only I could take my eyes off the word of God and promises of Jesus for a few moments and become like the majority of twenty somethings in this culture looking for salaries, sex and sedatives.

In the Gospel of John, Jesus told Thomas “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” The Spirit Jesus has left us, means that we are now blessed. Though the Lord is unseen, he is not a shadow caused by the motions of men. It is a blessing to keep our eyes fixed on the unseen. When our eyes drift to what is purely seen, consequences have to be paid.

On my way back from Derbyshire, I took my eyes off the road for a few moments whilst driving Stan, my green Fiat Punto. When you turn your head in a car, you naturally turn the steering wheel as well. That is why you should only check your blindside quickly before turning your attention back to the road. Unfortunately, I was too late. I smashed my car into a concrete island in a service station, crushed my steering shaft, front wheel and lost all my pride.

The consequences for my wayward eyes will set my bank balance back a bit. However, when our eyes stray from Jesus, we pay in joy, hope, peace and love. We lose those things which make life worth living.

Fix your eyes on the unseen.

Peace.

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I’m talking of course of the USA football team that exited the World Cup this weekend.

I watched the last-16 game between Ghana and USA with interest. Partly because I wondered what it would be like if England were in that game, partly because of my American links, and partly because I have Landon Donovan in my Fantasy Football team …

In a tense affair, the game had everything; goals, a penalty and lots of close chances.

We should all offer our congratulations to Ghana – what an achievement! They wanted the win, worked for the win and went into celebrations as if they’d won the entire competition!

But for the USA, it’s the prospect of a long journey home. However, they can be proud of what they have achieved as a team.

Topping their group was no mean feat and reaching the knock out stage was never assured them at the beginning of the tournament.

Two things they have shown consistently throughout their matches:

1. A true team spirit
2. A never-say-die attitude

We could learn a lot from the esprit de corps that the Americans have shown in this World Cup.

Staying The Course

I was in Sheffield on Saturday with a group of guys from different churches and together we resolved to stand side by side and give it all we’ve got in this life to make Jesus known. To do this we’ll need to show the same characteristics that the Americans portrayed throughout their time in South Africa.

When things don’t look like they’re going well it’s easy and cheap to criticise the failure of those around us in a bid to claim the high ground. In football we can point to other players performances, the coach, the referee or linesmen.

It’s the same for any organisation and especially so for the church. In any group of people derision and infighting can take a team down. So let’s band together, encourage one another, share in the victories and take the losses together.

Back home, the USA might not yet have football fully in it’s blood. They might not yet have shown us what they can produce. But they did play this game of ours well, and in the highest spirit. A beautiful showing of the Beautiful Game.

Their morale resolute, their unity resolved they will learn and grow from this experience and they will be back.

For us our calling is higher than the expectations of a nation. Let us leave our mark on this life in a way worthy of the death of Jesus. That when we reach glory we might do so together as an indefatigable, ragged bunch of guys that truly gave their all in this lifetime.

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