It really does take less square footage to be a kid now than it did back in the olden days—by which I mean the 60s, 70s, and 80s, when dinosaurs did not roam the earth, but teenagers with giant stereos certainly did.
Back then, if you were a teenager, your bedroom looked like the back room of a Radio Shack. You had a stereo system that took up half the wall. Not a cute little Bluetooth speaker—no, no. This thing had a turntable, an amplifier, and speakers the size of end tables. If you turned the volume up, the windows rattled, the dog hid under the porch, and your mother yelled your full name from three counties away.
And the music collection? Albums were thin, yes, but they were the size of pizza boxes. And every album had a jacket, and the jacket slid into a cover, and some artists released double albums, which meant you needed a forklift to move your collection. Then came eight-tracks (which lasted about as long as a snowball in July), then cassettes, which required their own storage system—usually a shoebox with the lid missing.
If you were lucky, you had a phone in your room. It was attached to the wall by a cord, and the receiver was attached to the base by another cord. If you were really lucky, you had the long cord, the one that let you walk around the room, change albums, and still talk to your best friend about absolutely nothing for two hours.
You also had an alarm clock—or a clock radio—because you needed something to wake you up so you could enjoy that magical sleep between the alarm going off and your parent entering the room to announce, “I said GET UP.” Today we call that the snooze button. Back then we called it “living dangerously.”
Some studious kids had a desk with a typewriter on it. If you had a Pica typewriter, your term papers looked longer, which felt like cheating but wasn’t. And there was almost never a TV in the bedroom. The TV lived in the den, a 25-inch RCA color set that weighed more than a small car. The whole family gathered around it, and since there was no remote, the youngest child served as the official channel changer. It built character.
Fast-forward to 2026. Kids don’t need a whole room anymore. They need a pocket. Their music, alarm, computer, TV, telephone, camera, calculator, flashlight, and speakers are all in one device. Pull out your phone and look at everything it does. It’s a miracle of modern engineering.
There’s a tool that lets us do things we never dreamed possible.
iPhone.
But here’s the thing: for all the problems life throws at us—grief, illness, broken relationships, guilt, confusion, decisions that keep us up at night—there is no app for that. There’s no setting to toggle, no update to install, no notification that says, “Your peace has arrived.”
When you don’t know what to do…
When you’ve lost something or someone…
When the doctor is puzzled…
When your child or parent won’t listen…
When you’ve messed up and don’t know how to make it right…
When you need direction and can’t find the map…
There is one place to go.
Jesus.
He doesn’t fit in your pocket.
He doesn’t need charging.
He doesn’t go out of date when the next model comes out.
And He’s the only One who can hold everything your phone can’t—your fears, your hopes, your grief, your sin, your future.
Kids today may need less space to grow up. But all of us—no matter our age—need the same Savior to grow into the people God calls us to be.
