We old hands new it was going to be good, but we couldn't have imagined how good.

We knew, for example, that Rand Miller was from an Evangelical Christian background from interviews we'd read in WIRED magazine and elsewhere -- pastor's kid, led Bible studies when he wasn't working on computer games for Cyan, Inc., the company he'd founded with his brother, Robyn. What we couldn't have guessed was that not only did Rand have some familiarity with our own particular neck of the woods in terms of his Christian experience, but that he was so thoughtful about his faith and his art, and would be so articulate and inspiring as he spoke about these to a tentful of fans at this year's Imaginarium. In his morning interview with Kathy Lundquist, the C2K Imaginarium's Special Guest gave us a very special glimpse of his heart and his creative process.

Then, during his evening "Boring Cornerstone Multimedia Presentation" (that was Rand's title, and it turned out to be anything BUT boring!), he showed us an even better time. My favorite moment came as Rand was conducting a guided tour through some of the games his company has created over the years, starting with the very first projects born in the proverbial garage, leading up to their first successes, such as "Manhole," and their first blockbuster, "Myst". Rand was sitting in the front row of the crowded tent with his Power Book on his lap, the images projected onto our screen, playing the game he and Robyn designed as a sequel to "Myst," the even more spectacular "Riven." For those two people reading this who don't know already, Myst and Riven are a pair of the most popular games ever created to play on a computer, featuring meticulously-created worlds the player has to work his way through, solving puzzles to open doors or find the correct path along a story set within those worlds.

As Rand moved this way and that way down the path of "Riven," kids who had obviously stayed up many long nights playing the game were shouting suggestions. "Turn left!" "Go straight!" "Hit the button on the control panel!" "Hit it again!" Rand, who turns out to be as layed back as a country farmer, with a sly, coy sense of humor, kept acting like he didn't know what would happen if he followed the suggestions. "Wonder what will happen if we go THAT way...." he'd say, and the kids would roar.

Then there was the "Gosh, how did THAT get on my hardrive...??" moment when Rand "accidently" let flash on the screen a few images from his company's super-secret work-in-progress -- codenamed "Mudpie," as every hardcore gamer already knows. "That better not show up on the internet" Rand jovially warned the Imaginarium crowd, telling us we'd seen some things never before seen outside of the offices of Cyan, Inc.

Well here it is, Rand, on the internet: from where I was sitting, I think I saw what might have been a bunch of guys wearing uniforms marching across what looked like a bridge. But I can't be sure.

My other favorite moment with Rand was, long after his scheduled part of Imaginarium 2000 was finished. I was coming back to the tent to see if the movie had ended yet, and noticed a small crowd in an empty, lighted seminar tent next door to the Imaginarium. Usually, our tent is the only action on this corner of the grounds after dark, so I was curious to see what was going on. I found Rand, in the middle of a crowd of hardcore gamers, hands in his pockets, still shooting the breeze with fans. Earlier that day, I'd tried to play the role of Protector of the Celebrity Guest, cutting off the backstage discussion following his interview, thinking he must surely want to get away from all those pesky little people and get on with doing Big Stuff somewhere. Now I felt like one of those dopey disciples who'd shoed away the kids from Jesus.

For such is the Kingdom of Heaven. During my non-intro to the film "Hook" -- which is about being too busy doing grown-up stuff to take time with your children -- I had to confess that sometimes the Imaginarium, ironically, is the thing that reaches into my life and threatens to pull me away from my family -- especially right before the fest. There were moments during that last month of fest prep when I actually had to tell my kid, "Daddy is busy trying to watch this movie and write his introduction so he can't really do anything with you right now..." A movie about a man who is constantly pulled from his family by a ringing cell-phone, answering to the disembodied "Brad" on the other end who rules his life. I tried once, twice, three times to watch the film again and take notes, when I had to get up from my notes and go play with my daughter. I finally gave up altogether, and the fact I didn't have any notes for that lecture and the reason why I didn't probably made it the best single talk I gave at the festival this year.

This year I noticed the kids, indeed -- playing key roles in our Imaginarium story.

During my talk on myth, when we were considering the difference between myth and fact, the truth of art versus the truth of history, I posed the question whether the Prodigal Son story was historically true, and after some back-and-forth with the crowd, felt like we had pretty well determined that it didn't matter, that Christ may well have used poetic license to create or shape a story to make a point. This kid in the front row -- he must have been maybe ten years old -- shot up his hand. I called on him and he said, "But if Jesus told a story that wasn't true, or if he took a true story and stretched the truth, then that would have been a lie. And if he told a lie, then he couldn't have been sinless..."

Oh, the deep, deep thoughts of youth. I had been intentionally trying to be provocative in asking the question the way I did, but I hadn't pictured such little ears listening and such little eyes zeroing so deftly on the exact right point. I knew had to deal with this problem again, in a way that this little guy would be sure to understood where I was going with all this -- and I realized that this might be the most important moment of the whole seminar. "All art is a kind of lying," is the point I tried to make -- "like playing make-believe," I realize now I should have said -- and I fumbled and somehow really did work out to this young man's satisfaction what is really the first sticking point of the whole discussion of myth and fact, the one so many Christians seem to have such a difficult time with in their consideration of literature and film. Or the evening news, for that matter, which we discussed as we delved into the way fact is sometimes turned into a dramatic story with less regard for the fact than the story.

The other sticking point in this discussion was the next issue I raised, and the kid jumped in on, so -- again -- I had to make sure my explanation was something a ten-year-old child could understand. (This experience was something I needed, and I recommend it for anybody who presumes to try to explain anything in writing!) "What about the story of Jesus?" I had to ask next. "Is it okay if THAT story is just a myth that helps us learn particular lessons? Does it matter if the Gospel is actual history or not?" And we had to wrestle together with THAT one, kids and grown-ups alike, deciding, of course, that Christians of all people have a stake in the historical truth of the Gospel and this naturally led us back into C.S. Lewis's discussion of the Gospel as both Myth AND Fact. Meanwhile, we were reminded that once you start opening cans of worms at the Imaginarium it's never easy to stop.

Last year we, indeed, opened cans of worms in our Gopher Guts Sing-A-Long when we most literally partook of the worms together. A kid I remembered from the sing-a-long was here this year, only he was sticking around after the movies for the first time to join the discussion with the grown-ups. He got my attention the same way as the kid above did, by pulling me up short with an unexpectedly on-target observation or question. "You've been at the Imaginarium before..." I stuttered, trying to think of how to answer his question or deal with his point. His reply completely destroyed any chance I had of pulling myself any further together. "I GREW UP coming to the Imaginarium," he said.

Holy Cow, I thought, we haven't been doing this THAT long... and then I realized, WE HAD. My knees buckled as I realized that all these years there was so much more going on then rushing around, solving logistics problems, trying to make sure the seminars and movies started and ended on time. Somewhere in the midst of all the fuss, people were actually being shaped by the experience of the Imaginarium.

People were GROWING UP here. I'm still trying to grasp the implications of that notion.

The Harry Potter seminar provoked many, many conversations with kids, and their parents. One guy -- maybe thirteen -- chased me down after the seminar to ask me some questions about fantasy role-playing games. I saw that it was the first time he'd ever been able to talk about the things he loved with a Christian adult who could even begin to understand these things so close to the imaginative side of his heart. He was having a conflict with his mom, who seemed to think all fantasy role-playing games were "of the devil." Thanks, no doubt, once again, to certain busy little Christian publishers, who have built such a successful industry, with several publishing houses now publically-owned and trading on the stock market, out of fear of the devil. "Look," I said. "Blanket condemnations are usually not the most intelligent way to proceed here, but the safest. People like to either say something is all good, or all bad. What you have to do with the games is the same thing try to do with the books and movies and tv shows we talk about here. Separate the good from the bad, on a case by case basis. Sometimes that will mean the whole game is okay or not so okay, or some part of it. But you have to involve your parents. Because the parent-kid thing is a whole 'nother issue that you have to make sure you're handling properly along the way..."

I don't know that I was able to solve his particular problem, but I think just having a grown-up understanding it and showing him how it might be set it in a larger, Biblical, context -- one not driven by blind fear -- will mean alot to this kid in the future.

There was a mom at one of the film discussions -- And who knows? It could have been that last kid's mom! -- who had the light bulb go off over her head as we talked. "As I listen to all of you, I'm wondering if I've been too hard on some of the things my kids like -- the Goosebumps books and things like that. Maybe I need to go back and look at some of these things with them and maybe rethink alot of my approach here..."

Pirate Night was out of control. Our movie theme this year was "Fairies and Pirates," and while we started with fairies, it was evident quickly that we were building up some pent-up pirate-ishness that would unleash itself with fury by the end of the week. I was hearing "Aaaaaargs" from the crowed, and more each day, from the first session. True, we did hoist the Jolly Roger over the Imaginarium from the first day -- but what a waste of a great pirate flag it would have been if we hadn't maximized it's use, eh? I wish you could have seen it flapping in the wind against the fire-red sunset following one of our notorious Cornerstone storms. Red sky at night, sailor's delight indeed.

And didn't we shiver some timbers on Saturday Night, starting with Dave's wacky Treasure Hunt? Note to all the Moms and Dads who think the inmates are in charge of the asylum at the Imaginarium: nobody knew Dave was going to take all those kids on the mad dash through the grounds until Dave announced it -- we don't think even Dave knew until, caught up in the spirit of the moment, he did announce it and so precipitated the mad rush. Luckily, we didn't lose any matees finding the treasure. And what treasure! Cool stuff Dave (the Donation King) plundered from all our favorite sponsors, Universal Home Video, Badger Airbrush, Testors Corporation, Polar Lights, Cyan Inc., and Chronicle Books. Thanks, everybody. You help make the Imaginarium seem as magical as Christmas. (My daughter won a Captain Action doll -- and no, we didn't rig that drawing -- and the first thing she did when she got home was borrow an outfit of Ken's and introduce the Captain to Barbie. Chicks dig action-heros, but lose the polyestor jumpsuit, Cap.)

Long-time Imaginarium attendee Geoff Horton (and check out his entirely cool Imaginarium tribute!) comments that the Jolly Roger over the Imaginarium seems apropo, given the slightly outlaw-reputation of a program devoted to the imaginative at -- gasp! -- a Christian festival. We think so, too, Geoff. And we commented during the program that it was high time for Godly pirates to take back the high ground of cultural engagement from the non-poets in the church who seem to be the only ones doing poetry criticism, to steal a phrase from the Imaginarium's head pirate, G.K. Chesterton.

There's quite a community of us "growing up in the Imaginarium".

This was the year I had several of our regular attendees come up to me separately offering to teach a seminar in the future. Stay tuned on that one; somethin might be happenin' here.

Meanwhile, Charles Franklyn Beach is a young Ph.D from Nyack College in New York who attended the Imaginarium as one of the paying customers before his friends talked him into suggesting a seminar on his area of expertise, Charles Williams, and talked us into taking him up on it. (And we are pleased to note Charles just sent along his seminar notes to post!). Before I introduced myself to Charles I listened to him bragging to somebody in the Speaker Hospitality trailer talking to someone else about how he used to play air guitar to the early Resurrection Band album "Colours" back in college, and I realized we had a real "home-grown" Imaginarium speaker already!

Our other fine speakers -- like Doctors Chris Mitchell, Lance Clark, and Mike Foster -- they may not have done their undergraduate work in the Imaginarium, but we're giving them honorary degrees. Especially Chris Mitchell, who once really was a hippie, though they don't know that at Wheaton. Bonk that man with a chicken, somebody.

Speaking of home-grown, Imaginarium wise-guy Sloan announced he has selected a topic for his dissertation (involving miracles and quantum mechanics... figures), and by the time of Imaginarium 2001 will ask us to address him as DOCTOR wise guy.

This was also the year I realized our former popcorn boy, Orion, had become truly overqualified for that position when he got us (even Imaginarium AV pro, Kevin A!) out of several jams with our varying A/V needs. Congratulations, Orion. Next year, you're moving up to projectionist -- maybe Doctor Dave will make the popcorn.

Actually, Doctor Dave is staying busy with his own new job -- he's actually talked us into turning this Imaginarium deal into a full time gig. We were pleased to announce to our friends the creation of "Imagin 'Dat," a hobby-toy store that takes many of the ideas of the Imaginarium and turns them into a ministry to kids in our Chicago neighborhood (also giving the Dave a much-needed place to store his own growing personal collection of toys!) Bookmark (along with your present location, of course) the Imagin 'Dat website, along with the Wonder Magazine Web site, where Rod Bennett carries on his WONDER-ful tradition online. Many people have been writing and asking for Rod's seminar notes from his "Cracking the Star Wars Code seminar, here spruced-up for posting. If he knows what's good for him George Lucas will bookmark this brilliant analyses and plot prediction and do the next two right by making the ever-prescient Rod's predictions come true.

I don't know if even Rod could have predicted what an incredible blessing the Imaginarium was going to be. Or what an adventure we've been on here these last six years (thanks for the reminder of that, Sven. You're a key part of this story!)

We're a motley crew, many of us Imaginarium lifers. But probably not any more motley than Jesus's disciples. Thank God for the example of such occasional doofuses like Peter, who during the moments of transcendence thought it would be a good idea to pitch a permanent tent and try to hold onto the mountain-top experience forever. (Hey, anybody who's been to Cornerstone knows tents are unreliable candidates for preserving anything for very long...) But Simon Peter was not Pan, and he grew up. He learned not to mistake the pleasant stops along the way for the destination. And he took all he learned from the Great Shepherd, and turned around and fed His sheep.

Hmmmmm. So that's what grown-ups do. If Long John were sitting among us for this discussion, he'd rub a finger over his bewhiskered face and bellow a thoughtful "ARRRRR-Men".

See you next year, by which time we hope to have decided whether -- being the year of Our Lord 2001, A.D. -- we are somehow required by obvious expectations to screen the film of that name, or being the Imaginarium, we must subvert those expectations.