A Message From God. Seriously.

Scenario: I am teaching a church Sunday School class with the 15-18 year olds. We are learning about love. Compassion. Reaching out to others.

Good stuff, yes.

Scenario Continues: I challenge the class to consider the needs of members of our class who, for whatever reason, are not here. (I am not sure about the use of who in that sentence. Whom?)

Good stuff, yes.

Scenario Continues: We look around the classroom. Student X is not here, we realize, nor has he been for a few weeks. But I already know he will be absent and I have contacted his Father for permission to text him. On his cellphone. One member of the class at a time. To say we miss him. We care. We hope to see him soon. A text every ten seconds for 100 seconds, which is longer than most people can hold a plank in my Pilates class. Not me. I can hold it for three minutes, easily.

Good stuff, yes.

Scenario Continues: We enter the number provided by the Father into our phones. We type our messages. We prepare to send.

I go first. SEND.

A student pipes up, and ironically, it is the same student who worked in the pawn (porn) shop mentioned in an earlier post. He says something about having Student X's number in his cellphone already and Student X's name does not come up when he enters the digits and, "Wow, that's kinda weird. Are you sure that's the right number?"

Of course I am sure. Well, I think I am sure. Maybe I'm not so sure.

Oops. I am wrong. Someone out there just got a text. Some random individual. Some random individual who's life will never be the same.

Because God just texted him. It had to be God. Because who else would say, "I missed you in Church today. I hope to see you next week!"

Heck, yes.