E-vangie Tales #61: Saving Micky Mouse


A trip to the Magic Kingdom presents a lot of opportunities to share the gospel, but can a Disney character really be saved? My goal was to visit Mickey Mouse and ask if he was going to Heaven or Hell…

My family and I started our pilgrimage through “The Happiest Place on Earth” where no one has a care in the world. The streets were not pure gold but well swept. And the city did not need the sun or the moon to shine on it because they had great artificial lighting. Everyday is an experience in mortal bliss. John Lennon once sang, “Imagine there’s no Heaven, it’s easy if you try…” I wonder if he penned that song in Anaheim? Off we went to Fantasyland.

“Wow! Aladdin’s genie!” I wanted to pray with the guy ’cause he looked kinda blue but he was in a hurry. No opportunity to share any good news with this dude; he was definitely in lala land. Probably a New Ager anyway.

With special autograph books in hand, my girls were on a mission to get as many signatures as possible. I on the other hand, had another mission in mind. “Ooooo, isn’t that Sleeping Beauty, girls?” (She’s much better looking on T.V.) The Princess was in a rush also and way too concerned with the things of the world so I didn’t waste any time evangelizing her.

I still had this vague sense of urgency about presenting Mickey with the good news of Jesus. I needed to see him quickly since he’s pushin’ eighty and well, ya know. The big mouse trap of life could snap any day…

There’s Pluto! That faithful old canine has been Mickey’s pet for a long, long time. He was always around when his master needed him. Rolled over. Fetched. Begged when he had to. Nah, no chance of him believing. He thinks just being a good dog will save him.

Chip and Dale signed our books. Man, talk about a couple of losers. You want to stay away from those guys. They had a great reputation ’til they opened that strip club at Donald’s suggestion. Bad company really does corrupt good character. Couldn’t share with them either, they were too squirrely.

Goofy also signed. I didn’t understand a thing he said. Confused. Amiable. No real opinions just some garbled platitudes. The ultimate Post-Modern. I’m sure if I shared about eternal things, he’d agree and say something like, “Uhh huuh, uhh huuh! That’s cool for you man, if that’s what you believe. Just don’t push your stuff on me. Uhh huuh, uhh huuh.”

The Mouse House. Large, new, conspicuous. Inside, a complete museum dedicated to the life of Steamboat Willy himself. Mickey with this famous person and that celeb. Mickey headlines. Mickey, Mickey, Mickey. You’d think he was Elvis or somethin’. The viewing room showed clip after clip of the little cheese-breath himself. The guy has major pride issues.

We were escorted into a private room and there he was in his royal-red robe. My kids jumped into his lap as I stood on the side. I glanced at my wife and waited patiently while he signed his name to the girls’ autograph books. A few more seconds and… I lost my nerve. I didn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it!

Though the Bible says that the righteous are as bold as a Lion King, I was a mouse.


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