The Advent of the Reece’s Tree

November 1st I saw the first Reece’s Tree, the novel Reece’s Cup in the shape of a pine tree. It didn’t take long to replace the Reece’s Pumpkin, which first appeared on store shelves years after the invention of the Reece’s Tree. The Reece’s Pumpkin and the Reece’s Heart owe their very existence to the success of the Reece’s Tree and Egg. I should know, they are my wife’s favorite candy.

Kristi, used to look forward to the day when the trees showed up on grocery store shelves and gas stations across the country. She enjoys them so much that I have been known to get 30-40 of them and wrap them up for her for Christmas. She’d have just enough to make it until Spring, when it’s cousin, the Reece’s Egg, would arrive. In fact, one year I think that we still had trees left so we totally skipped the Eggs.

However, I’ve noticed that she isn’t as adventagious as she once was looking forward to the Trees appearance.  After all it’s the same delicious peanut butter covered in smooth milk chocolate with which the Pumpkin and Heart are made. The Trees have lost their nostalgia. The Trees have lost their uniqueness.

I think the same thing is happening with Church. In our hurry to be culturally relevant we lost our nostalgia, our uniqueness. Not that I am for pipe organs and choirs and hymnals and 25 verses of Just As I Am, “We’ll sing just the odd.” I’m just not against them. In moments of deep despair I still go to the hymns for comfort and for perspective.

In our hurry to move worship into the technological age where we create an experience to tickle every sensation we lost the power in still moments, moments so still we could feel our numbness. I wonder if we have created a new expectation that people should enjoy church, and once they begin to be bored with it they move on. I wonder if in our making man’s enjoyment a priority we fail to demand a discipline worthy of the shed blood of Christ. I wonder if in our desire to hear words like, “I never thought church could be like this,” we chose to appeal to desire instead of conscience. I wonder if in the midst of too much sameness Church has lost it’s nostalgia, and in a way we have lost our adventagiousness.