From Moses and Mickey Mouse – How to Find Holy Ground in the Magic Kingdom and Other Unusual Places – recently re-released.
As soon as the school calendar paroled my children: Cayla, the eldest, fourteen; Abbie, nine; Nathan, seven; and our nephew, Jared, twelve, we packed ourselves into the van along with a sizeable portion of our belongings and headed to Florida for several days at Disney World. It turned out quite a few other people had the same idea.
As I moved through the masses of the different parks, I was amazed at just how many people were there. I did quite a few genetic observations while people watching, “So, this man and this woman produce these offspring. Fascinating.” Or, “Wow, you picked him for a mate. Was there alcohol involved?”
Then I asked myself, “Why do so many people come to Disney World again and again, bearing the cost, the hot Florida sun, the miles to get here, the congestion?” The answer seemed and still seems obvious – wonder, collective, shared, wonder.
Wonder is the Holy Grail of the Magic Kingdom, draped in a surprise, a thrill, nostalgia, or sweet sentiment. Whatever the form, Disney packages wonder, and our hunger for wonder draws Disney lovers from across the globe, into the parking lots, on the trams, through the gates, in lines, and on ride after ride.
I experienced that wonder on our trip to the Magic Kingdom. The rides and my children showed me the way, especially on my favorite ride, Peter Pan.
Peter Pan called out, “Here we go!” as our pirate ship left the boarding station with the long line of people behind us. Abbie yelled, “We’re flying!”
We sailed into the bedroom of Wendy, John, and Michael Darling
“We’re flying! Dad, how do they do this?” Abbie asked.
I started to answer, my hand pointed up at the rail above our heads, which attached ship to ceiling track, but I resisted, certain she’d figure the mechanics out soon enough. She did. She looked up on her own, saw the rail, but chose to ignore it as we flew like Peter, Wendy, John, and Michael, sprinkled with pixie dust, thinking our happy thoughts, through the bedroom window and into the night sky.
“It’s London!” Abbie squealed as we sailed around Big Ben.
“The cars!” she cried out pointing to pairs of lights moving along dark stripes on the floor.
I looked. I saw. The dark stripes became roads and the pairs of lights became headlamps. My daughter spoke. I heard her voice. And I believed.
She did for me what Peter did in the book, the movie, and the ride. She took this aging child, struggling to find his imagination, and gave me wonder. She took this land-locked, bed-bound child, and helped me fly.
By the end of the ride, with her as my guide, I heard the tick-tock of the pirate-hungry crock, fought with Hook, ran with Smee, danced with Tiger Lilly, and swam with mermaids. I was young again; I was amazed; I was flying.
Like my daughter, I saw the rail but chose to ignore it. We were flying. With her, I was sky high, and it was wonderful.
YOUR WORLD
G.K. Chesterton said, “The world does not lack for wonders, only for a sense of wonder.”
Though Chesterton’s observation is a century old, it is clearly applicable today. For us, people of this new millennium, wonders abound, but we, the overly stimulated under impressed, have a tough time seeing them. Anthony De Mello described our lives with this image,
A group of tourists sits in a bus that is passing through gorgeously beautiful country; lakes and mountains and green fields and rivers. But the shades of the bus are pulled down. They do not have the slightest idea of what lies beyond the windows of the bus. And all the time of their journey is spent in squabbling over who will have the seat of honor in the bus, who will be applauded, who will be well considered. And so they remain until journey’s end.
As De Mello illustrated, our problem is not that our lives are devoid of wonders; our difficulty is just that we do not see them; our shades are down, our eyes blind. We live inside boxes, caught up in competitive, hierarchical scoring games, devoid of awe, our once vivid imaginations paralyzed in routine, left behind as part of a tragic flaw in the process we call maturing.
Do you remember when you outgrew your child-like imagination? When you lost wonder as an approach to life? When you looked at a Tonka Truck and saw only something to trip over? When you looked at an action figure or a cherished friend and saw only a doll or a stuffed animal? Do you remember when you threw away toys because you did not want others to think you childish? Do you remember when you grew up and pulled the shade over your eyes to wonder? Do you remember when your imagination grew numb from inactivity or did it just happen over time?
Walt Disney dreamed of parks that would pull us out of our coma-like stupor, which would allow us dreams, laughter, and joy. Disney said, “I am interested in… bringing pleasure, particularly laughter, to others.” His goal was to give people a place where they could rediscover their sense of child-like wonder. He said of his parks,
To all that come to this happy place: welcome. Disneyland is your land. Here age relives fond memories of the past, and here youth may savor the challenge and promise of the future. Disneyland is dedicated… with hope that it will be a source of joy and inspiration to all the world.
Disney parks draw so many people in because they systematically pull wonders together in one accessible place. They call to the deep part of our soul lost in blind stupor.
Disney and his descendants can teach churches a lot about burning bushes. As a pastor, I can say from the inside of congregational life, Disney recognized what churches too often haven’t: people are better led than nudged, better a carrot than a cattle prod. Whereas the church has too often used guilt to motivate people, God entices with wonders; and as with Moses, God’s doorway to the divine is not a shove of shame but the draw of wonder. Wonder attracts. Moses was lured into a holy quest through a tease, an enticement, a lure from God, and Moses responded in wonder.
Wonder can be lost, but it can also be found. We can catch wonder. Our family found wonder on our trip to Disney World and on our way home. In search of adventure, on our drive back toward Tennessee, we left Highway 75 in Florida and went to Ichetucknee Springs State Park. After a swim in the cold spring, we rented six inner tubes (for only twenty dollars) and floated down the Ichetucknee River. We took our swim goggles, frequently left the tubes, and floated along under water checking out the sizeable trout.
At one point, as I was floating along submerged, I came upon a group of three trout, the largest almost a foot. I startled them. Then I had an experience I have never had before, the largest fish bolted when he saw me, and I heard him. I heard him move. Whether he bumped another fish or had some finger knuckle popping sound from his spine, I know not, but I heard him. I had never before heard a fish underwater. I was amazed.
This trip reminded me of a commitment I set for my role as father, to do my best to encourage in my children a sense of wonder. Albert Einstein said, and I believe it is especially true with children, “Imagination is more important than knowledge.” Facts, truth, and reality come soon enough for growing children from stern teachers and the harsh lessons of life. However, lessons in wonder may or may not be part of the curriculum. So why point out the man behind the curtain; why roll out the blueprints for the universe, as we understand it; and why not instead, if you can, help them simply live, if only for a moment, in awe?
The goal is simple, when the opportunities arise, encourage wonder instead of stifling it. For example, with each child, when they have looked out the window of the car or van and said, “Dad, the moon is following us!” I have responded with a simple question, “You think so?” They have never asked, “Dad, is the moon following us?” which opens the door for an answer, but always declared, “Dad, the moon is following us!” So my response is to let them alone, let them marvel at the moon for a while rather than reduce the wonder of astronomy into a you-don’t-get-this-yet-but-you-will-one-day lecture. Marveling at the moon is the best beginning for a lifelong education in astronomy. As their parent, why not let them live in a world where the moon follows them around (as long as they aren’t afraid of it), why not let them live in a worldview where the universe is overly friendly? Won’t life correct them soon enough?
Einstein’s full quote is,
Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.
Whether at Disney World or riding in the back seat of a car, encouraging wonder in children helps the young find a path beyond immediate answers to life-long exploration and learning where not only are they embraced by the universe, but they embrace the universe, experiencing wonder daily.
Socrates said, “Wisdom begins in wonder.”
Consider where our great, life-changing inventions started, not for a desire to know facts, but in a quest to experience wonder. Wilbur and Orville Wright wanted to build a plane, not because they wanted to know how to fly, but because they wanted to fly. Thomas Edison invented the light bulb because he wanted to see in the dark. Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone because he wanted to talk to someone far away. Neil Armstrong wanted to be the first man to walk on the moon, not just to prove that it could be done, but to do it, to experience it, to live it.
Wonder is an experience worth seeking, because of what it does to us, because it transforms us, as it did to Alice in Lewis Carrol’s Alice in Wonderland. Carrol wrote,
For you see, so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately that Alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really impossible.
Wright, Edison, Bell, or Armstrong were no different from Alice. They were caught up in wonder and its pursuit. They were transformed, and so went the world with them.
What about you?
Seek wonder and you will find wonder! How can you get to Wonderland? The same way Alice did, she saw a white rabbit and chased it. How can you find God’s adventure for you? Like Moses did, he saw a burning bush and went near it. How can you go to the moon? Like Armstrong did, he saw the bright orb in the sky and went after it. Follow their example: chase the white rabbit, explore the burning bush, and reach for the sky. Seek things that make you go “Hmmm.” Seek things, experiences, books, people, art, anything and anyone that make you go “WOW!” With the many addictions in our culture, choose this one – become addicted to wonder. Be curious. Perhaps wonder will lead you to figuring out how a ride works, what makes a cloud cry, what makes a rocket reach, what makes a swing fall back to earth. Ask. Ponder. Query. At the heart of any question is an experience, a quest. Reach. Seek. Grasp. And as often as you can, fly!
Quasimodo, in Disney’s version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, gave us a great life philosophy when he said, “Why, if I picked a day to fly… Oh, this would be it.”
