Last week, The Wife and I took a trip to the Magnolia Market at the Silos in Waco, Texas. The Wife is an HGTV fan, and the Magnolia Market is the creation of HGTV stars Chip and Joanna Gains. 

The Magnolia Market

The Magnolia Market is adjacent to downtown Waco and prior to its makeover consisted of two abandoned grain silos and a collection of decaying buildings near railroad tracks.  

Now you walk from shop to shop, while manufactured scents hang in the air and soft rock music plays from hidden speakers.  Kids play corn hole on top-grade astroturf, while others play baseball with a whiffle ball at a miniaturized baseball diamond.

In the center is an old church, freshly painted white, and its aged wood floors buffed to a shine. Inside, there are pews and even a stage but no pulpit or people.

Food trucks offering tacos, barbecue, and ice cream are strategically placed around the perimeter of the property, and there is a collection of picnic tables where you can enjoy your food next to people you don’t know and will never see again.

Why it works

The charm of the Magnolia Market is that it makes you feel you are on Main Street in a small town. Such places are not unique to Waco, Texas. Town center developments are popping up around the country–facades of small town community built with big town money.

After we stopped for a break at a picnic table, The Wife and I enjoyed coconut milk from a coconut stamped “Magnolia,” which is the trade name of the Gaineses’ business empire. The Wife took a picture and posted it on Facebook, and before we left, I checked back to see if anyone had liked it or commented.

As I sat there checking Facebook, it struck me that this entire experience had been built around the appearance of community. Hundreds of people gathered together, taking pictures and eating together and yet remaining strangers to one another.

That’s the thing with social media and town center developments —they make us feel connected with others without actually having to connect with them. They provide the benefits of community without the mess. Whether it’s a network of curated friendships on social media or newly constructed old towns, community sells, even if it is not real. 

What it tell us about ourselves

These things aren’t bad in-and-of-themselves, so long as we recognize them for what they are and what they are not. At best, they hint at community. They give us a taste without the meal, and the reality is that people are hungry. 

Social media and town center developments work for the same reason Starbucks works—people need community. It is not good for man to be alone (Gen. 2:18). Social media, faux town centers, and Starbucks make us feel like we are not alone even if we don’t have any meaningful relationships.

But when faced with man’s loneliness, God did not provide him with a cell phone; He provided him with another person.

Real community comes at a higher cost than a monthly cell phone bill or a visit to the Magnolia Market. It involves working through conflict rather than unfriending on Facebook; it involves crying with someone who has suffered a personal loss, rather than merely liking their social media post. 

Real community means seeing those people around town you have struggled with and those you have cried with, stopping to ask about their families, and having them ask about yours. 

The irony is, the more lonely we become, the more money we spend trying to recreate the thing we destroyed.  We build artificial downtowns, gather in coffee shops with headphones on, or scroll through curated friendships on Facebook, convincing ourselves we are connected because we are surrounded by people. 

But proximity is not community, and pictures aren’t people.

God’s answer to loneliness is more interesting, unpredictable, and fulfilling: It is people who actually know one another. GS