As we drove through the massive gate of the Magic Kingdom, it was as if Tinker Bell herself had sprinkled fairy dust all over our car. The nine-hour trek across 4 states had immediately been forgotten by our two kids. Their mouths dropped open and the past boundaries created by sensible adults of what was real and imaginary had now been erased. Questions in rapid fire about princesses in castles, evil sorcerers, and flying were aimed at us. The question behind all the questions…is this real? Is there really a group of dwarfs living in a tree taking care of a beautiful maiden? Does Cinderella really live in that castle? Are these characters that prance around with a smile on their faces in a pristine and perfect “kingdom” real? In other words, can this be trusted? We decided to play dumb (and probably a little dishonest) and shot back…”if you believe.” It made for a wonderful and magical trip for 2 small children.
Of course, my wife and I knew better. Before you think us terrible parents, we had a fantastic trip, but there was no magic. In fact, it was often that we looked at each other, with sweat dripping down our face, and laughed about the poor soul that was wearing one of those Captain Hook Costumes with a bobble head top. With each child that waited to have his picture snapped with one of their favorite characters, a pose was struck and a smile was made by a happy child. Of course the theme park characters are always smiling. Somewhere deep in Southeast Asia, I’m sure, the plastic head was formed out of a mold to make sure these characters were always happy!
However, if you look closely, all over the park there are doors marked, “Cast Only”. These are the labyrinths where the costumes come off, the smiles are stacked on a shelf and time cards are swiped. At ten o’clock at night the magic is put to sleep and reality awakens. I wondered this week about my little girl’s favorite character, Cinderella. She sat with my daughter for a minute or two and she really looked the part. She appeared like she had just married the prince and her evil-step mother was now doing the castle’s laundry. I wondered though where she really lived. Was this one of two jobs? Was she married? Divorced? Did she have an addiction that was hidden? Was this the only gig she could get cause Broadway didn’t pan out? Once the costume was removed, her life, her real life, started back.
It was as if God spoke as clearly as He ever had, “This is You!!” We and us and them, I suspect, are all lumped into this terrible cycle of magical kingdom’s with plastic smiles, sparkling streets and time card happiness. We are acting out a part, a fictional life of sorts, for those that would step into our lives for a day or week. Our role is manageable, we say, because we get to take off at the end of the day the bobble head and the shoes that are too tight. However, there is a dread, drenched with shame that we are not truly being who we are meant to be. We are walking out the story of Adam and Moses and David and…well there are too many to recount. We are living out of someone else’s dream of what we should be and not out of the magic and power of God’s destiny for our own lives.
I thought to myself as I we watched the fireworks at the end of the night and we walked back to our car, “Would anybody really want to come here if it was real–grounded in pain and brokenness?” The answer was obvious. More so, would I want to take my kids to a land where the tragedy of life and the disappointments of relationships were put on display in parade format? “Not for this price”, I thought. So our week turned out to be a magical distraction, a bit of fairy tale living encompassed by a harsh reality. However, when we returned, I walked into our church offices, looked at the trappings that I had grown accustomed to, the bobble heads that I so comfortably strapped on week in and week out and vowed to the Lord. “I will shelf these costumes, burn my time card and cancel the parades. I will be a real person. I will hurt and be hurt. I will be honest and get angry. I will make my addictions known and place my weaknesses on display.” A terrible vow to make, to be sure.
In the end though, what I find out about myself and fellow followers, the magic is not found in the pretend and fairy dust. It’s not discovered in the power of illusion or the painstaking parade of life. The magic is found in life all around us—in our children’s smiles, in the life redeemed out of the paper mache castles, and lives selfish to discover their own fairytale that has been written by the master of all stories.
