My Cereal Box Sign…

A few days ago, I posted on Facebook about my first experience ever of standing on the street with a cardboard sign. I was asked for the whole story, so I thought it was about time for a new blog post. 🙂

I have mentioned previously that I am currently traveling around the UK looking at sites that have significance in Christian history. During the past 3 weeks, I have visited Armagh, Downpatrick, Saul, and Belfast in Northern Ireland, Paisley, Glasgow, Oban, the Isle of Mull, the Isle of Iona, Edinburgh, St. Andrews, Melrose, and Roslin in Scotland, and Holy Island and York in England. (Not all of these places held significance for my research, but they are places I have traveled.)

Last Thursday was the day I had planned to leave Scotland and travel to Holy Island. I had been given the names of a couple living there whom I should contact for help both with my research and with getting to the island (which is a tidal island). When I called them a couple of days prior to this portion of the trip, I was told there may or may not be a bus running to the island that day (which I already knew there wasn’t), so my best option for travel was to take a bus from the train station in Berwick-Upon-Tweed to a place called Beal. From there it is 2-3 miles across the causeway and then another 1-2 into the town on Holy Island, so the recommendation was to make a sign that said “Holy Island, please?”

After that phone call, I also began looking online for accommodation on the island. Without knowing it, I had chosen to arrive on the island for the first half of a bank holiday weekend… I called nearly every hotel and B&B on the island, but there wasn’t a single vacancy. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure a wanted a vacancy because I wasn’t convinced I could afford a room. Prices for a single room ranged from 50-85£ per night – which, with the exchange rate, is nearly $100-170!

I finally found a place with a vacancy the night before I was leaving. It would cost 60£ a night, and it was across the causeway from the island. So, I began asking God if I should take that room. It would mean less time on the island because I would only cross on the Friday morning and then have to be back across that evening before the tides came in. I wanted to experience the quiet of the island during the evenings when the tourists had gone, rushing to beat the tides, but maybe that wasn’t necessary after all.

In the end, I decided to step out on a limb with God. The worst that could happen was that I would have to find a bench to spend the night on, or that I would have to leave the island and hope that room on the mainland was still available – provided I could get a lift)… Right? I felt like God was asking me to stop planning for a bit and just let Him show up for me, whatever that looked like.

Of course, when I woke on Thursday, it was to the sound of a downpour. The weather had gone from sunny and very warm on Wednesday to cold, windy, and pouring. However, I continued with my plan, so as I finished my cereal, I saved the box for a later part of my journey and off I went. 🙂

The train trip was fairly uneventful, and after about an hour the bus which would drop me at Beal arrived. Unfortunately, the bus was having some issues, and it kept stalling. Eventually we arrived at my stop, and I do hope that the bus made it through the rest of its route.

Because of the tide times, I had a bit of a wait until the causeway opened, so I bought lunch and enjoyed it while standing inside the convenience store. As my current host would say, it was raining cats, dogs, gerbils and a number of other things.

Finally, it was time to try out my sign. I had borrowed a pen at the train station, and my cereal box was now a cry for help. 🙂 The cry was heard, and after only about 10-15 minutes, I was in a car with a lovely couple headed for Holy Island.

After a pause in a cafe to warm up with some hot cocoa, I made my way to the home of my contacts. There, I was treated to tea and a very enjoyable and informative chat about the history of some of those who were part of spreading the gospel throughout this land during the centuries following the fall of the Roman empire in Britain.

Before I left the house, with one phone call, arrangements had been made for me to have accommodation in a house with the most beautiful view of Lindisfarne Castle, a short walk from every place a needed to visit, and a lovely lady who provided breakfast each morning. All of this for less than half the price of the hotel I nearly settled for on the mainland.

Would God have provided the money if I had made a reservation to be safe? Of course, but where is the fun in that? If I learn nothing else on this journey, I have more proof than ever, that God is faithful. Using wisdom is a must, and I highly doubt you’d find me hitching a lift into London or some place like that. However, planning too much and leaving no room for God to show up and surprise you can be dangerous too. I’m sure I would have enjoyed a day on Holy Island with the comfort of a room to go back to, but I would have missed out on the adventure of stepping out of the boat and seeing Jesus show Himself faithful again… Always.

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