Men’s Breakfast

Revd Paul Bentley, Vicar of Christ the King, Birkenhead

A couple of years ago, a few of us began praying about how to better connect with men in our community. We sensed a hunger — not just for food, but for belonging, honesty, hope, and real friendship. And, as blokes often do, we figured food was a good place to start.

So, we launched a monthly men’s breakfast: 10 a.m. on a Saturday, open to anyone. We began small — six to eight men, mostly from church, just to seed it. We cooked a proper breakfast — good bacon, good sausages, plenty to go around — and opened the doors.

Today, that little gathering has grown into a lively crowd of 35–40 men. Some are working, some aren’t. Some come from other churches, some have no church background. Some are housed, some are homeless. It’s a beautiful, messy, diverse mix — and everyone has a place at the table.

From the beginning, we set a few principles:

• A proper breakfast — For some men, this is the only meal they’ll have that day. People are encouraged to take leftovers home.

• Completely free — There’s a donation basket, but no one is turned away. God provides, and somehow, it always works.

• Unashamedly Christian, but never pressured — We always pray, share testimonies, and invite conversation, but there’s no complex liturgy, no obligation — just space to meet God if you want.

The testimonies have been powerful. Raw honesty — men speaking about addiction, pornography, alcohol, violence, mental health, broken relationships, shame, and forgiveness. Big, tough men standing and weeping, sharing God’s faithfulness in the middle of their mess. Those moments change the room. They change us.

We haven’t suddenly filled the church on Sundays — and that’s fine. A few men have dipped their toes into worship, and we celebrate that. But more importantly, we’ve built a space where men can be real, share their doubts, hopes, and fears, be prayed for, and feel seen and known. Isolation is pushed back by conversation, laughter, and the simple act of sitting shoulder to shoulder over eggs and bacon.

It wasn’t always like this. Early on, it was painfully quiet — six blokes spread across a big hall, awkwardly making small talk. Now, you walk in and the room is buzzing. Tables are full, introductions are made, friendships are forming, trust is being built.

We celebrate:

• Growing numbers — from six to nearly 40.

• Men from across churches and no church background coming together.

• Real conversations and real transformation.

• People stepping up to serve — including men who once just came to eat.

• Vulnerability and courage in testimonies.

• The Holy Spirit moving quietly but powerfully.

Of course, it gets messy. Conversations can run long, stories can be complicated, pain sometimes spills into the open — but that’s real life, and God meets us there.

Looking ahead, we dream of more lives changed, helping other churches start breakfasts, encouraging men to share “messy” stories, and seeing every man find his place in God’s story.

It started with breakfast, but really, it’s become a table of grace — where men come hungry, leave full, and discover hope somewhere between the sausages and the testimonies.