A Renewed Mind

Yesterday, a couple of our young adults and I took our youth group on our annual excursion to CedarPoint Amusement Park. If you’ve ever been to an amusement park, you can guess fairly accurately what consumed our day. By early evening, most of the group had pretty much tired of the rides; all but one. Since our young adults were there with the kids, I decided to take a brief hiatus from the group. (In two hours, I had plenty of time to ride 5 more rollercoasters and one other ride; I thought that’s why amusement parks existed.)

Having this unusual time alone in such a setting, I had more opportunity to think about what I was doing as I raced around the park. Waiting lines provide a person with time to think if he or she can block out the music being blasted over the speakers at a nearly unbearable volume of decibels. My contemplation led me to conclude that trips to amusement parks have very little redeeming value, even the best parks like CedarPoint.

I love my annual trip to the park. (As we unloaded the vans in the parking lot, one of the young adults suggested that I seemed more excited to get inside and more agitated at arriving 15 minutes late than did the teens. Ouch!)  But I must admit that the whole amusement park experience is simply worldly. Except for an occasional t-shirt with a Christian message (like the “Love Let’s Live” t-shirt worn by one courageous girl), there is almost no expression of the supremacy of God or the majesty of Christ anywhere. Of course, the evidence is everywhere–every thrill ride in the park can do what it does because of the laws of creation that our infinitely wise God determined; every emotion from fear to relief to joy that brings people to the park was designed by our Maker who also feels those emotions. Yet, his name, his honor, his glory are strangely absent from the whole affair.

If there was any thing of redeeming value in our whole excursion, it probably centered around two things. First, my solo wandering excluded, the overall experience was a shared one. When 19 people are pushed 310 foot into the air and dropped at an 80 degree angle so that you speed to the ground at 93 miles per hour together, it’s more than just a 3 minute rollercoaster ride. It creates conversations and shared emotions and laughter that draw people together and build bonds. When teenagers can laugh at their pastor for wearing a belt pouch that looks “so ’90’s” and the pastor can laugh at his generation’s styles and his own weaknesses (not sinful tendencies) with his teens, possibilities to speak God’s truth into their lives open up. The pastor is reminded that the differences between the teens in his church and himself are largely external, and the teens may begin to open up their eyes to the fact that the pastor’s sermons are not merely attempts to preserve tradition.

Secondly, a day at the amusement park can be a healthy reminder about the emptiness of worldly thrills and the deceitfulness of worldly happiness. Nothing illustrates the former better than our adventure at the Top Thrill Dragster. Forty-five minutes of mostly horrible anticipation, one more check of my pulse (to make sure it hadn’t already reached dangerous levels), and we were strapped into what resembles an F-15 ejection seat aboard an 18-passenger train weighing more than 7 tons with cargo. Moments later, we were waiting helplessly at the starting line. Yellow, yellow, yellow, GREEN! We were catapulted to a speed of 120 mph in less than four seconds, thrust 420 feet into the air at a 90 degree angle, and then dropped 400 feet straight down before leveling out and stopping. No doubt about it, it really was a thrill like no other; great, breath-taking fun. But here’s the catch: A mere 17 seconds after our flight began, we were deboarding wishing for more, wishing for a thrill that lasted longer, that went deeper. Our conversation would lengthen the joy, but the fact would remain: worldly thrills are ultimately brief, unsatisfying, and empty. Granted some worldly pleasures may last a lifetime, but compared to eternity a lifetime hardly seems like 17 seconds.

Regarding the deceitfulness of worldly happiness, a little thoughtful observation at the amusement park makes this perfectly clear. Have you ever noticed that children cry at amusement parks–even while they’re holding their snow cones and cotton candy? Have you ever overheard the tired, exasperated scolding of their parents? Ever noticed an argument between a husband and wife, or boyfriend and girlfriend? Have you ever seen a paramedic giving first aid, or someone frantic because they lost their wallet or purse? It all happens right there in recreational paradise. The park provides so many different kinds of thrills, games, entertainment, and diversions a person could want. Every kind of food is offered anywhere you look. All kinds of helpful accessories are made available to make your day in paradise a pure joy. And yet, it never is pure joy. The reality and presence and effects of sin follow us to the amusement park. No diversion is powerful enough to delight us with pure and lasting joy as long as sin abides. Worldly happiness–happiness that is gained through what this world can offer–is deceitful at best, forever eluding those who seek it.

If a trip to the amusement park can remind us that only a relationship with God through His Son Jesus will bring the thrill and joy that our heart demands, then maybe a trip to the amusement park can be a very good thing. If you’re seeking your joys in the world, maybe you should head to an amusement park tomorrow; perhaps it will remind you that your 17 seconds are nearly past.

I happened to find this post on Religion vs. The Gospel which is adapted from Tim Keller’s work. It provides some helpful tests for us to use to examine whether we are living out of the gospel or out of man-made religion.