“Lost in Disneyland,” a picture of many, a challenge for the church

I can’t get the picture out of my mind. Since I read Dean’s Monday column comparing Disney World crowds with the Passover Jerusalem throngs when Jesus was 12, “lost in Disneyland” has made me think about our present age.

Those three words describe so much of our culture, wouldn’t you agree?

With abandon people today bounce from one experience to another. They buy and spend and buy some more. At every turn there’s another diversion, bauble, or toy to keep them satisfied after the pleasure of their last consumption has worn off.

But the satisfaction never comes. Not really. Those with enough disposable income may not acknowledge the emptiness, because their list of possible purchases is long. But eventually, at least alone in the dark of night, they feel lost. Like Disneyland, our culture offers one diversion after another, but none give the meaning in life that everyone ultimately is seeking.

How are we doing?

The church’s mission and potential has always been to fill that void. So how do you think we’re doing with that these days?

Observers of the current scene say, “Not so well.”

“What we have been doing in the western church is dwindling in effectiveness,” Geoff Surratt wrote recently. “Megachurches grow larger while overall church attendance goes down. In every generation since the baby boom a smaller percentage believe in God than the generation before. And over the past 18 months we’ve discovered that many of the people we considered mature disciples are neither mature nor disciples.”

(Read his whole piece to consider his proposal: The church should be playing a long game of ongoing mission, not a zero-sum game of “winning” by forcing the world to “lose.”)

In every generation since the baby boom a smaller percentage believe in God than the generation before.

Earlier this year Mere Orthodoxy’s analysis described “The Six Way Fracturing of Evangelicalism,” explaining how current controversies over politics, race, the pandemic, and other social justice issues are reflected in seemingly irreconcilable rifts among believers. “The fracturing we are experiencing is likely to be irrevocable as the historical ties that bind have eroded beyond repair,” the piece says in its introduction. “The reality is that while many in the evangelical movement thought their bonds were primarily (or exclusively) theological or missional, many of those bonds were actually political, cultural, and socioeconomic.”

(Read the piece to decide how you’ve seen the six subgroups described there, where you and your church may fit, and how you believe the church should serve in spite of them.)

This is a lot to digest. Next steps may be difficult to decide. Faced with the reality of a struggling church in a divided age, none of us feels sure about how to respond. (This is why so many church leaders these days are so exhausted.)

What are we trying?

But perhaps we can agree that one strategy is certain not to work. We must do better than offer the world our version of Disneyland.

Imagine a 6-year-old separated from her parents in the middle of the amusement park throngs. She’s not looking for another experience. She doesn’t care about getting her picture taken with Mickey or Minnie. She has no excitement in the dark before the nightly fireworks explode. She’s lost, and she’s frantic to be found.

But it seems to me that we too often try to mimic Disneyland with our message to the lost world around us.

Driving through one city in the South last week, I was struck by one church marquee after another advertising its upcoming Trunk ‘n’ Treat or Fall Festival.

I remembered a large church building I passed every day on my way to work many years ago and the message on its lighted sign: “Come Holy Spirit. Bingo Thursday.”

I think of a small central Illinois church I visited several times whose worship service was led by a less-than-mediocre band blaring worship songs the assembly largely sat through without singing.

I’m trusting that each of these efforts was motivated by a sincere desire to serve God by serving people, creating fellowship, or attracting seekers. I’m for all of those things, but I don’t think our efforts to impress or attract or entertain achieve them. At least not well enough. We can’t compete with the slick magic of Disneyland. But we can offer something better: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.”

We can’t compete with the slick magic of Disneyland. But we can offer something better.

It’s a simplistic answer, I know. But I’m coming to believe we may be trying too hard, looking too long for something new or flashy.

Leaders much wiser than I are working to engage a generation that seems ever more difficult to reach. In this space next week I want to share what a couple of them are suggesting. Meanwhile, I invite your responses to the question I’m raising: How can the church offer the unfulfilled masses something better than our version of Disneyland?

Photos by Darren Gundling and Benjamin Suter on Unsplash

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Dean Collins

Pastor, campus minister, counselor, corporate employee, Fortune 500 consultant, college president—Dean brings a wide range of experiences and perspectives to his daily walk with God’s Word. 

In 1979 he founded Auburn Christian Fellowship, a nondenominational campus ministry that still thrives today. In 1989 he founded and became executive director for New Directions Counseling Center, a service that grew to include several locations and counselors. In 1996 he became vice president of human resources for the CheckFree Corporation (3,000 employees) till founding DC Consulting in 1999. He continues part-time service with that company, offering executive leadership coaching, organizational effectiveness advice, and help with optimizing business relationships.

His latest pursuit, president of Point University since 2006 (interim president 2006-2009), has seen the college grow in enrollment, curriculum, physical campus, and athletic offerings. He led the school’s 2012 name change and relocation from Atlanta Christian College, East Point, Georgia, to Point University in West Point, Georgia. Meanwhile, he serves as board member or active volunteer with several nonprofits addressing issues ranging from global immunization to local government and education. 

He lives in Lanett, Alabama, with his wife, Penny. He has four children (two married) and five grandchildren. He plays the guitar, likes to cook, and enjoys getting outdoors, often on a nearby golf course. 

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Easy to read, a challenge truly to obey: “Love your enemies”