When Enchantment Fades

I am sitting in a McDonald’s all alone, waiting for my wife to pick me up after dropping my car off at the mechanic for an inspection. I do not go inside McDonald’s very often anymore. Usually, it is just a quick trip through the drive-through, a fast exchange through a window, food passed from one hand to another, and then I am on my way.

But today I am inside, sitting still long enough to look around.

And it does not look much like I remember.

The McDonald’s of my childhood was not subtle. It was bright and loud and strange in the best kind of way. There were lovable characters, colorful walls, hamburger-shaped seats, trees with eyes, statues of the Hamburglar, Playlands full of noise and motion, and Ronald McDonald himself presiding over it all like some cheerful king of childhood wonder.

Now the colors are muted. Everything is gray, brown, and earth-toned. The lighting is modern. The lines are clean and sharp. The furniture is tasteful. The whole place is attractive, efficient, and carefully designed.

But the enchantment is gone.

Maybe that is what I am really noticing. Not just the absence of Ronald McDonald or the Playland or the cartoonish furniture, but the loss of a world that once seemed bigger than it was. A hamburger place could feel like a kingdom. A Happy Meal could feel like an event. A plastic toy could feel like treasure. A trip inside McDonald’s could feel like an adventure.

Maybe this is not only a reflection on McDonald’s. Maybe it is a reflection of the world we live in.

It is easy to move through life as though the enchantment is gone, or at least as though we have missed it. By enchantment, I do not mean fantasy or pretending the world is something other than it is. I mean the deep truth that the world is filled with God’s divine presence. Creation is not empty. Ordinary life is not hollow. The days we rush through are not without glory.

But we are often so consumed by the hectic pace of life that we overlook the divine artistry all around us. We hurry from one obligation to the next, from one errand to another, from one screen to another, and we stop seeing what is right in front of us. God’s goodness and grace surround us, but we lose sight of them.

Yet God’s enchanting presence is still bursting forth all around us: in the beauty of creation, in the wonder of art, in the sounds of life, in the kindness of strangers, in the laughter of children, in the love of those who care for us, and even in quiet moments when we find ourselves sitting alone, waiting to be picked up.

As the Apostle Paul told the Athenians in the book of Acts, “In him we live and move and have our being.” We are never outside the presence of God. We are never beyond the reach of grace. We may fail to notice God, but God has not failed to notice us.

Maybe God is simply waiting for us to discover him again.

God has so much to share. So much beauty for us to behold. So much grace for us to receive. So much joy for us to enjoy. The enchantment is not truly gone. It is still here, hidden in plain sight, waiting for us to slow down, look around, and see again.

I’m still waiting for my wife. I wish there were a playland in here. But there is a world outside waiting for me to discover it again, and God in everything he has made. The world still belongs to God. Maybe I should pay more attention.