A devotional on childlike faith, holy imagination and the adventure of worship
“You see things, and you say, ‘Why?’ But I dream things that never were, and I say, ‘Why not?’” – George Bernard Shaw
Key Scripture: “Truly I say to you, unless you are converted and become like children, you shall not enter the kingdom of heaven.” – Matthew 18:3 (NASB)
The Pond
In a child’s world, pond life matters; for me, it was no different, as I grew up enjoying nature’s freedom and wandering. Every pond, river, stream, or brook became a place of play and adventure, even bogland- that is, marshy or swampy areas. I have arrived home having lost many a Wellington boot in the sinking mud. The school was very near home; on occasion, parents were dispatched to look for us when we got distracted at the water’s edge. They knew where we would be. The park water course had lured us again. We launched armadas and races; Oxford V Cambridge boat races had nothing on ours. Wood sticks with paper sails that went worldwide. Bridges became deep-dive caverns to explore while attempting to keep dry.
I should have been home in fifteen minutes. It regularly took much more than that. I would kneel at the water’s edge and press my face close to the surface, shading it so that the glare disappeared and a whole underwater kingdom opened up before me: sticklebacks flashing silver, red-throats, water-boatmen rowing across the surface, tadpoles wriggling, newts drifting like small dragons through the weed. WE learned the skill of tickling trout as they went all limp for us to catch with our hands under a stone where they were dwelling.
I would gaze, entranced, while the afternoon slipped away. Why were they all so different? How could so many kinds of creatures live together so peacefully? Did they ever fight? How many meals did they eat in a day? I never once saw a water-boatman drink. And how could they dive and stay under so long without breathing?
They were a child’s questions, and they may seem silly to a knowledgeable adult. To me they were mysterious and wonderful. A world had opened, and I wanted to understand what it was like to live there.
On Saturdays we would visit the reservoir on top of the mountain of our valley; now that was deep water. We dammed watercourses as high as we could, some reaching 2 to 3 meters, then broke them once full to see the torrent flood some of the water-starved stream bed; that was so much fun, but to be honest, very dangerous.
Sometimes would try and build a mini pond of my own, stocked with creatures carried home in a tin. Frogs, tadpoles, newts and anything else we could. Everything went well until one of its occupants would escape or I got board.
Stories long gone should make us smile when we recall them, the adventures of getting dirty. But I have come to see that the pond taught me something.
A World of Adventure
Who has not smiled at a little girl wheeling her pram, chatting to her doll as if it were alive? Who has not laughed at a boy tumbling down the street, battling an invasion of evil aliens, then suddenly stopping with arms thrown wide like a conqueror surveying the field?
The child does not live in the world as it merely appears. The child lives in the world as it could be. Nothing is ordinary. Every puddle is an ocean and every garden a jungle. Every day is waking to a new adventure of discovery.
Children’s role as teachers is evident in the narrative of biblical thought. Jesus shows us that, once called a little child to stand among his disciples, it was learning time for the 12 who had been arguing about who was greatest, and said: “Truly I say to you, unless you are converted and become like children, you shall not enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3 NASB). Children and their ways were ever present for Jesus, as he said, “Suffer little children to come to me”, as the religious 12, I would suggest, attempted to police access to Jesus. Elsewhere he added, “Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it” (Mark 10:15).
What was he teaching? Perhaps he meant a child’s simplicity and trust. Perhaps he was also pointing to something more: that the kingdom is received by the eye that can see what is not yet visible. I suggest these two elements, simplicity and the ability to live in a world not yet seen, are both required of us. The child is so at home with imaginary friends and a created world, investing in ordinary toys an unseen world.
Notice the order of his words. He did not say, “Unless you become like a child and then be converted.” He said, “Unless you are converted and become like children.” The childlike attitude follows the turning. It grows after we come to Christ. When the Spirit makes us new, he restores what the years had worn away: wonder, trust, and a willingness to explore. Restoring adventure, given or encouraging seeing the world not yet here. As I consider the world of the prophets and ponder their descriptions of a transformed world, I long to see it. The world restored in Isa 11, Isa 58 when streets are restored, Isa 65, 61, Zach 5:8, Amos 9:11-15; Psalm 33:5, 119:64, and so many other scriptures. I am told in Acts 3:18 that a period or time known as restoration will be restored, as the “prophets said it would be”. Can you see these in your mind’s eye as we move toward the culmination of all things?
Is Jesus inviting us to rediscover imagination and adventure? To have a faith that sees the invisible and acts as though the invisible were visible? The writer of Hebrews describes faith this way: “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see” (Hebrews 11:1).
The Dreamer’s Eye
When I began my Christ-like journey, I wasn’t a dreamer; then I met people, dreamers themselves, who taught me to dream. I do not mean false dreams or cheese-induced dreams. These dreams have become what I call wide-eye dreams: seeing what things could be, not only what they are. I mean seeing potential far greater than what is currently visible. Realising that humanity was created not mature, but rich in potential, like creation in Gen 1 and 2, full of potential. That was there for humanity, and all creation was to fill out this potential.
History is full of men and women who learnt to dream with their eyes open. They visualised beyond the present and reached into the future with a faith that turned the dream into reality.
Isn’t the narrative of Scripture full of these types of dreams, those with childlike imagination and faith, their eyes opened, and they pursued what they saw?
- Moses, from Sinai, was to build a tabernacle in the wilderness “according to the pattern shown you on the mountain” (Hebrews 8:5; Exodus 25:40). He carried the vision down with him.
- Joseph in prison remembering one day his brothers would bow before him (Genesis 37:5–9). That dream guarded him from bitterness and revenge. Years later, standing before those same brothers, he could say, “It was not you who sent me here, but God” (Genesis 45:8). That is the dreamer.
- The prophets gave voice to what they saw: a return from captivity for God’s scattered people (Jeremiah 29:10–14), and a latter house whose glory would exceed the former (Haggai 2:9).
- Jesus entrusted the mission of blessing the whole earth to a small band of fishermen and ordinary people. (Matthew 9:37–38; Acts 1:8).
- Paul saw the purpose for which Christ had taken hold of him and pressed on with all his might: “Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal” (Philippians 3:12–14).
WE are all to be dreamers; if you love God, see the dream and make it real!.
Faith That Sees Before It Moves
Consider the woman who had suffered from bleeding for twelve years. She had spent everything she had on physicians, and instead of improving, she grew worse. Then she heard about Jesus. “She came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, because she thought, ‘If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed’” (Mark 5:27–28).
Before she ever stepped out of her house, she was already seeing herself whole. She saw herself healthy, strong, able to live again, free to walk into a room without shame. Her faith had travelled to wholeness long before her feet carried her into the crowd. Jesus turned and said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace” (Mark 5:34).
Think, too, of Abraham. With what excitement he set out for the land God would show him (Genesis 12:1–4)! Even while he packed his tent for the nomad’s life, his eye of faith was looking down the generations to “the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God” (Hebrews 11:8–10). It was the seeing of that city that enabled him to endure the tent.
When the Adventure Dies
I am convinced many people become sad in life because, somewhere among life’s experiences, they lose the exploring mind of a child. We say and enjoy when a preacher holds imagination that it was wonderful, so can we cultivate it always in us? We should hold and develop imagination, wonder, and the wow of our salvation, rather than letting bruises, rejections, rebuffs, and disappointments become primary. Capture a childlike view; remember, not childish but childlike.
Jesus knew this danger. He warned that “the worries of this life, the deceitfulness of wealth and the desires for other things come in and choke the word” (Mark 4:19). A heart crowded with anxiety has no room left for wonder.
Praise and worship might reach another level if we retained a sense of adventure. I have heard it said that worship ends when mystery and wonder die in the heart. Where they are kept alive, however, the quickened mind and released affections are drawn upward toward the mysterious beauty with which God has clothed himself. “One thing I ask from the Lord,” says David, “that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord” (Psalm 27:4). David gazes; you hear it in the words he penned in Psalms, into whatever was before him he was utterly given
Footprints in the Snow
I look out on a winter morning when snow has fallen and covered everything so wonderfully; it changes how everything looks. So undisturbed, so clean, covering paths and roads, sitting on branches, sometimes even bending trees, painting everything white, it transformed the scenery into one colour palette overall.
Then the urge takes you to be the only footprint in the yard, to make a mark where no one has been. Something inside you wants to open up a trail, then you follow the footprints back to where you came from to keep it clear. The snow seems to have made all the old new, but giving it a new cover. What about our old pathways? Perhaps God wants a new adventure with you in your devotion, in your experience of God
To Do – Reflect
- Lose track of time simply gazing at God’s creation or at his goodness? What did you see?
- Is there a dream God placed in your heart
- What would it look like to let a child’s curiosity back into your life experience?
- What is one new path you will explore this week?




