In retrospect I don’t really know why it was such a big deal.  Jo and I were on the train last night at about 8.30pm to pick up Jo’s mum’s car from Manchester (cos they’re off to Barcelona) so that we have some transport for the best part of a week since our car got nicked. The train was nearly empty, maybe 3 or 4 people in the carriage. It was one of those carriages that was no better than a bus from yesteryear. Jo told me to stop complaining about it - I just couldn’t get comfy, once you feel settled in one position something somewhere begins to ache and beg to be moved into another position. So I moved again, maybe leaning forward with my head bowed onto rail on the seat in front. And so the cycle of move, get comfy, ache, move continued until eventually I leant on Jo and decided to stay putt no matter what.

There were a couple of girls sat a few seats in front of us. Behind us and to the left there was a Somali guy. After a few stops the girls got off and other people got on. Meanwhile, I dozed for a bit, leaning on Jo. I was really tired from the fitness and circuits that we did at football training the night before. I still ache a little from it now, but thankfully my body has an ability to powernap. I can doze for 15 or 20 minutes and come out of the dozing and be wide awake for a few more hours. I woke up at about 9.15 with still another 25 minutes left on the journey. It would have been nice to doze for longer but I was awake now and could feel the cogs beginning to whir in my brain and it was too late to go back.

I sat up and looked around. Jo leaned into me and began dozing. The train was near deserted - it was just us and the Somali guy behind us.

“Go and talk to him.” said my brain as it put English words to my sense of God’s will.

Bananas - I hate cold contact with a passion - I’m not particularly even good at it when its just a social occasion. I used to talk about Jesus to my workmates whenever and wherever and it really wasn’t ever a deal, but there’s something about cold contact - it reminds me of doing it in my childhood, or that time when I was on the ministry team at a youth conference when I was about 12 and really didn’t know how to pray, never mind the guidelines of ministry. There was a woman at this conference that looked about 40 years old, probably a mother, and was waiting for ministry. I asked her, after plucking up all the courage a 12 year old could, ‘What is going on? Can I pray for you?’. She gave me this look of ‘what? eh? you?’. It totally destroyed the little confidence I had for praying for people. It wasn’t until I came to St Toms many years later that I would confront and retract the vow I made then.

The train rocked and bumped me back into the present reality. It really shouldn’t be this hard. Just what IS the problem? The sense was one of those really clear ones: do it and you’re obeying God, don’t and you’re not! Simple. My heart rate escalated as I again began to internally discuss the reprocussions of such a move. I fidgeted as I felt God apply yet more pressure and eventually I began to rationalise it. First, though it is quite easy to not obey God, I hate the state of my life immedietly following an act of disobeying him. It’s awful in so many ways: the shame, feeling a fraud, telling God with little proof nor integrity that honestly you do love him, no really, and then wanting to sacrifice elsewhere in your life to prove that you do love God but not trying to finish with works what God started with the spirit… It’s just all just rubbish, self-centered, confused and forgetting what grace means rubbish.

Second, just what is the worst that could happen? Death? So what?

A freisian cow moo’d in my ear. “Stop moving!” she said “my pillow won’t keep still”. I stopped moving, though I hadn’t particularly listened to what Jo said, I was too deep in thought.

A resilliance came to me, an sense of unashamed proclamation regardless of response. I was reminded of Morpheous in the Matrix Revolutions when his commander shouts at ‘Not everyone believes as you do Morpheous.’

‘My beliefs do not require them to.’ came Morpheous’ reply.

Jo was looking at me strange now - I knew I had to tell her, but I also knew of course that if I did tell her that I would be committed to doing it. Bananas (times two). Who was it that said ‘you cannot live in the will of the Holy Spirit and not appear at least a little eccentric’. But just talking to someone is hardly ‘appearing eccentric’. I was reminded of something that God has been repeatedly saying to me of late ‘your battle is your battle’. There’s no getting away from your battle, often satan will try to de-perspectivise a battle so that it either looks too small and you look elsewhere for your real battle, or it looks too big and you become overwhelmed or fearful. It doesn’t matter how big your battle is for someone else, or someone elses battle is if you were to fight it, at the end of the day your battle is your battle. Here was my battle - joining forces with my fear from cold contact years ago.

I practiced the first line in my head, though I’m not sure why, it was not as if I was about to chat him up and ask him on a date. Still, I did want to speak with integrity and truth whilst prompting a response, and so I settled on “Excuse me. I felt like Jesus was asking me to come and talk to you. Do you know why that might be? Is there something you’d like to talk about or perhaps I could pray for you?” That was it - I had been thinking about this for about 20 minutes now and I just had to do it.

I told Jo what I was about to do and she looked at me with the “ooh no, what is Matt going to do now?” look on her face while laughing. Yeah, thanks hun.

I got up walked over and sat down near the guy. I managed to get the words out in usual Matt fashion. The man looked at me, startled as you’d expect, but signalled with his hand for me to keep talking. I had expected more of a response so that we could build into a conversation. Bananas (times three). I hadn’t thought this far ahead. Jo told me later that she was laughing at this point and felt the whole of heaven laughing at the same time. Yeah, thanks hun (times two).

I remember talking about how Jesus had changed my life and well, the usual true stuff that feels quite normal for most of us now! He was actually very interested and we chatted a bit about who he is and what he does. “Anyway” I continued “I felt like I should give you my bible, so that you can meet Jesus get to know him too”. I have about 10 New Living Translation ’seeker’ bibles that look like paperback novels from the outside. I tend to read them and then give them to someone that doesn’t know God, but it’s always been a friend from work or football. This was the first time I had given one to someone I had never met before. He nodded his head and gratefully accepted the bible.

In retrospect there’s a million things I should have asked. He was responsive and called me ‘a really nice man’ and was genuinely thankful that I had given him my bible. He shook my hand, I got up and went back to my seat. I felt complete relief and elation that I had done what God had asked me to and that it wasn’t easy and that I wouldn’t get anything out of it for myself, it was just for Jesus not for Matt. Doing things that aren’t Matt-centric is soo satisfying. So anyway, could you pray for Ibrahim, a student of Tropical Diseases at Liverpool University and will be returning to Somalia for a job in the summer.

I soon realised that the hardest part of all of this was the internal debate and procrastination - it took 20 minutes! The talking to him about Jesus and the giving the bible bit was dead easy in comparison. The thing that I’m trying to learn is that even when in future it doesn’t go well that I remember that I did the right thing regardless of the result. Perhaps next time I’ll aim to just struggle for 18 minutes…

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