I had the privilege of visiting Wales a couple of weekends ago and whilst I was there, in the very south western corner, I discovered the truth about my mobile phone network – that it really is completely rubbish. I spent the entire weekend opening and losing my mobile phone looking for any sign of network coverage in vain. There was nothing – absolutely nothing. Not even a glimmer of a signal flickered on my screen and it was totally frustrating. I thought it would be somewhat liberating to be out of signal range for a while and feel the complete freedom of not being in contact with anyone from home…but it was absolutely awful.

So if anyone tries to sell you the idea of having a technology detox and suggests shipping you off to some supposedly quaint little cabin on the side of some squirrel infested mountain somewhere well beyond the reach of civilisation (which usually involves not having a toilet by the way) – then run away, because they’re nuts. I hated every second of being out of contact with those who are the most important to me. It was dreadful to not be able to pop off a note to let them know what was going on and how I was doing, or to find out how they were, or just to get any kind of message from them at all so that I could know that everything was ok.

And so I would have been in almost complete despair that weekend except for one glorious hour when I went for a walk down by the harbour of the little town that I was staying in. As I ambled along, my ears firmly plugged into my mp3 player, I just happened to glance down at my phone and discovered, much to my surprise, a signal!

My thumb, which had been poised and ready for such a moment, blurred into action with the reflexes of a Lioness who’d just stumbled upon the secret location of the fabled obese gazelle herd of the African savannah (don’t google it, I made them up. But if you do discover them, remember where you heard it first), and I began speed texting with all my might. And then it got even better, when I started getting replies! Everything was right with the world and I felt as though I could finally relax fully. What a difference it made. So I stayed there for an hour and just kept the communication going, and it did me the world of good.

I’m a citizen of heaven according to the Bible. Not because of what I have done, but because of what Jesus has done for me. He makes it possible for me to have a home in heaven, but He doesn’t just leave it at that, because He’s made it possible for me to keep in contact with Him as well – even though I can’t see Him. But just like my mobile phone network, I go through patches where the signal is just awful. Sometimes it’s my fault – I keep messing with the receiver down here or forget to keep it on charge or, like every nearly every other male on the planet, I think I can get the best results without ever needing to consult the manual until I really have to. But sometimes my network seems to go down and it’s not my fault at all. Sometimes my network provider seems to go offline, and nothing I seem to do can bring it back, no matter how hard I try. But in all of these trials of communication, I am learning a simple little truth for my own walk – when the network’s up and the signal is clear…make the most of it and speed text like crazy!

Having only settled myself into the large sofa that I like to call home in my local Starbucks, and despatched some sort of healthy fruit and cereal bar, my morning musings were rudely interrupted by a very loud and intrusive claxon alarm followed by a rather stern, and disembodied automated voice informing us of some impending doom and demanding that we all exit the building immediately. So the staff in store along with myself and every other store in the mall that I could see from my current vantage point, did what any normal human being does in circumstances like these – we promptly ignored it. It genuinely took several minutes for most of us to wake ourselves out of our comfort zones in order for us to even pop our heads outside the door of the store to see if it was a genuine emergency. Only then did we see that all the other stores were doing the same thing and that some had even gotten as far as pulling down their shutters and had began to make their way to the nearest exits. Looking at each other with varying degrees of bemused excitement and apprehension, we all decided that this was indeed something that perhaps demanded our attention and so we also began leaving the building in that most British of “orderly” manners. Walking towards the assembly point, I smugly congratulated myself on my foresight in ordering my tea in a take-away cup. Of course, I always order my chosen beverage in a take-away cup much to the bewilderment of the ever changing staff of my local coffee house; but this morning I was able to cheerfully parade beside them holding my little thermal cup victoriously high and declaring “See…now you know why I order this in a take-away cup.” Vindication at last! It can sometimes be a long time coming, but today was my day – my faith was rewarded and my take-away cup came with me all the way through our little adventure. Yes, our morning was interrupted by the harsh sound of a blaring emergency horn and yes, we were all subsequently herded out like some kind of…er…well, herd; but throughout it all…through every moment of this mildly terrifying, death defying flight for our very mortal lives…I was ready, and – I had my tea! A theme that you will find in the Bible is the theme of the “sudden”. Suddenly things will change. Suddenly God can intervene. Suddenly God interupts. And Jesus said that we were to be watchful because He is promising to come back…suddenly. It would seem prudent to me then that we perhaps adopt some practices and habits that put us in good stead for one of those God type “Suddenly” moments. There’s nothing like being prepared, even if we forget occasionally the real reason for why we do certain things – because you never know when you’ll need to have your tea in a take-away cup.

Post script: It turned out to be an emergency drill. I was at least hoping for an alien invasion or something. I could have been a useful help to humanity – the alien invaders might have quite liked tea, and preferred to sit down for a nice chat with biscuits. Ah well – next time perhaps.

My wife has been teaching in and leading the Sunday School in our home church for many a long year now; and during that time has built up quite a catalogue of humorous and quite often, moving anecdotes. As any parent or children’s worker will tell you, if you want any circumstance summed up with refreshing clarity and simplicity, then ask a child for their assessment and prepare yourself for a little bit more colour in your life.

Take this little incident as a prime example of the pure and uncluttered clarity of children:

It was a Sunday afternoon just like any other that had gone before it. One of the teachers, who serve alongside my wife, was talking to her little class of six year olds about how Jesus healed the sick when He lived on earth. She was doing her best to explain how good Jesus really was at making people better, no matter what their sickness was. She was about to continue her discourse when a little hand shot eagerly into the air demanding her immediate attention.

It is probably the single moment that any public speaker dreads when someone decides to break ranks and fire a question at the “learned personage” in full flow at the front. These moments of unscripted interrogation are so unnerving that we have almost succeeded in eradicating them completely from the adult life of the church; much to the relief of those people who have the onerous task of occupying our pulpits week in and week out. All of us “adults” know the rules. We have been trained to sit, listen and push to the back of our minds any of those irritating little doubts and niggles that threaten to lead us from the path of light. And so we keep our place and dutifully accept what we are told by those who are paid to explain it all to us. Yes…we adults know the rules and we stick to them. Not children though – No. Thankfully, children have no idea about or indeed, care very little for these rules.

You see, in an adult scenario, it would be safe to say that a raised hand in the midst of those gathered would indeed be a warning sign that a tricky question was on the horizon; allowing the speaker in question to tactfully choose to literally ignore it, thus avoiding any unnecessary embarrassment. With children, however, a raised hand may not mean an intellectual query is on the horizon – it may simply indicate that the body to which the frantic hand belongs to may be sending a very important warning signal to those in it’s immediate vicinity; that unless immediate action is taken…the chances of someone having to shout “Surfs up!” are increasing exponentially with every passing second. With his hand sticking straight up in the air and that kind of “you must pay attention to me now because I may be about to hold it in any longer” look on his face, this young pilgrim needed to be heard. (Of course the experienced children’s worker will also know to look for those other signs that usually accompany the “real emergency” moment – tell tale signs like the fact that the arm that is bolt upright, reaching as far into heaven as it possibly can, is usually counter balanced by the other arm which has gone in the opposite direction in a desperate attempt to find the valve that shuts off the water supply. Add to that the distinct possibility that the child may be manifesting the spirit of “Tigger” while still trying to look as though they are staying seated, and you will get something of an idea what a level 5 bathroom emergency looks like.)

This particular hand was not accompanied, thankfully by these signs. It was indeed a question. One simple question that had sprung from a mind captivated by the idea that Jesus makes people better. A question that still makes me smile every time I recall the story as it was relayed to me. And what was that question?

“Excuse me miss…does that mean that Jesus is better than Calpol?”

Yes. You heard it here first folks. Jesus is better than that most effective of children’s elixirs. To this little boy, Calpol was the magical draft that could ease his suffering with one little spoonful. But now…perhaps for the first time in his life…he had a reference point for how good Jesus really was.

Upon His teacher reply that “Yes, Jesus was better than Calpol.” Our little theologian simply replied with a satisfied grin: “Cool”

Is it any wonder Jesus spent so much time trying to get us to think like children?