a little bit of narnia, a little bit of me, a little bit of healing

i'm steadily making my way through the chronicles of narnia, some for the first time.

rabbit trail: now before you go chastising me for never having read the series, please take into account the following truths: 1) i didn't read very much as a child. i spent most of my life in make-believe of my own. 2) my mom did read to me some, but she mostly just told me stories. she is an excellent storyteller and has one of the best witch voices you will ever hear. 3) our house was not a citadel of great literature. it was a place of discovery, of creativity, of getting your hands dirty. so whereas i did not receive all the virtues that a well-read child will obtain, i think i had pretty close to the perfect childhood: just enough scraped knees to make me tough, just enough toys to aid my imagination, plenty of kingdoms (read: "woods") to explore, endless resources for creating whatever i could dream, 2 sisters old enough to show me the ropes and young enough to be my playmates, talented parents who passionately showed us a dynamic world full of possibilities. but i didn't read the chronicles of narnia. or the lord of the rings series. or about a thousand other books that one definitely should have read before becoming a wheaton college student. so judge me if you must, but i'm putting a dent in the long list of should-have-read's in my budding adulthood.

now returning closer to the point: i've read the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe, (and had it read to me by david chambers and scott brown in glorious character voices with stuffed animal props--one of my fondest memories of my college years and maybe of my life), and i know the story all too well from the bbc version. so my recent reads started with prince caspian in preparation for the new movie. i finished the book and have seen the movie twice, and i decided that i like it, that i don't mind the changes so much because they provided for some more extensive character development, and that i even like the regina spektor song despite its very weak starting line and awkward placement in the movie. (if you've seen it, you know what i mean.) i just finished voyage of the dawn treader. i'm reading the books in the order that they were written instead of chronologically in narnian time because that's the way i started and also because that's the way the writer experienced them and far be it for me to want to delineate from c. s. lewis.

and now, finally, we come to the actual, climactic point of this entry:
all of my experience with narnia thus far has led me to one very inescapable conclusion:
i want to live in narnia.

now, i've had similar feelings about other magical worlds, namely hogwarts. but whereas i'm indignant that i can't be a wizard and accio things on command or expeliarmus my foes, i'm deeply saddened that i can't live in narnia. i'd even accept not being a queen of narnia. i just want to go. i want to be friends with trees that dance and animals who talk and all sorts of creatures that can't be found (or awakened) in our world. i want to be face to face with Aslan. i want to experience the Deep Magic.

i don't really have anything more profound to say than that. i want to live in narnia.

i love fantasy. and i used to thrive on it. but now, in the context of this very mundane life, where adventure seems every impossibility, it makes me sad. not the kind of sad that will put me very much out of humour. but the kind of sad that dims the twinkle in the eye. the sad that misses the magic with which i was once so intimately acquainted. because for the most part, i feel like i've lived the fairy tale. i grew up in the middle of the woods. i've journeyed to far away lands. i know how to waltz. i married my prince charming. i've even had little animal friends along the way (and even if they didn't talk outloud, they may have just as well). so i know that the magic is real. i know there are new worlds to be discovered and explored, new perilous heights to climb, new dragons to battle or to befriend, new seas to sail, new little animal friends to meet...

but--and isn't there always a but?--all these worlds are very hard to reach from my little desk in the confines of my big corporate office.

so one day, when i go into the office supply room to put away binder clips and printer cartridges and reams of paper, would it be too much to ask to find a little secret door in the supply shelves? i could climb through and have a lifetime of adventures, and when i got back, no one would even know that i had gone!

and that's just the issue, isn't it? if i actually did wander into narnia through the supply shelves, i would not be so careless as to wander back. i would miss my husband, my family, my friends, my church. but i know myself all too well. wherever i am, i am there completely. my scope does not extend far beyond my gaze. it's been a lifelong blessing and a lifelong curse.

and maybe that's why there is no opening to narnia in the supply closet. because this is where i am supposed to be--in this world, with these responsibilities, with the people i already love. and i am going to have to learn to be with Aslan another way. i have to know Him by another name, one that has lost a bit of its magic through the mortal enemy of familiarity.

nevertheless, He is not so very far away. and He is loving and wild and good. and for me (as He did for Eustace), He is slowly removing the hard layers of lies i clothe myself with and revealing the sources of pain and constriction which i willingly put on in moments of weakness and making me new. or rather, He Himself has not torn into me yet. He is letting me undress myself. I haven't yet given Him permission--"invited Him into the conversation" as Rama often reminds me to do. it's a scary thing. because i know it will hurt. but He is patient with me, and He lets me try a little until i desperately desire for Him to do His work. so bring it on, Lord...

...just, not quite yet.

my sundown

this past saturday morning was the "morning of grace," a monthly women's prayer meeting (sort of) at my church. i generally love morning of grace. the women in my church are pretty amazing. but there is one little problem: saturday morning is not generally a time i like to commit to anything other than wildly indulgent sleeping in.

so as i was lying in bed trying to decide whether or not to go, i had pretty much settled into a firm and decisive "no." i was tired. so what if i miss morning of grace? it'll be there next month. and the month after that. and as i rolled over and got all snuggly in my nice, warm, comfortable bed, "my sundown" (a jimmy eat world song) randomly slipped into my head.

it started with the more disinterested lines:
"with one hand high, you'll show them your progress.
you'll take your time, but no one cares."

but then i remembered the opening lines of the song:
"i see it around me. i see it in everything.
i could be so much more than this."

dang it. alright, Jesus, i guess i'm going to morning of grace.

when i got there (a little late), i found that the theme for the morning was psalm 139. and i chuckled to myself. because God is just funny.

the leader for the morning gave us beth moore's outline for psalm 139 as follows:
1. i am known.
2. i need to be known.
3. i'm scared to be known.
4. i've always been known.
5. i can know because i am known.
6. my enemies are known.
7. my anxieties are known.
8. i give God permission to know--complete surrender.

so i reflected a little and tried to reason out with God on paper what was going on. i'll let you listen in the prayer that followed:

God, i do want to be known.
but i am scared to be changed.
and i know that You are a dynamic God
Who will not leave me as i am.
Your desire is for constant proximity.
and how can i stand in Your presence unaltered?
i fear that i don't want Your calling.
i fear it is too hard, too high for me.
i fear that You will not empower me
to carry out Your plans.
i fear much struggle along the way.
i fear the weakness in myself to yield
but to do so with bitterness and spite.
and even as i write, i am ashamed.
i have already become what i despise:
timid, demanding my rights, settled.
in clinging so tightly to "who-i-am"
i have collapsed into myself
and changed my freedom and passion and moxy
for fear and bitter acceptance.
so yes, i want to be known,
but as i was, not as i am.
and i fear the process of restoration.
i fear your words of reproof
even though they are words of Life,
Life i long for but am too timid to pursue.

but, God, You do know me,
and You hold (tighter than even i do)
to the dreadful and wonderful truth
that You crafted me on purpose.
who better to protect and preserve my identity
than He Who formed it with His own hands?
who better to revive and recover me
than He Who first breathed into me life?
He Who began a good work in me will see it through.
indeed, such knowledge is too wonderful for me.
for You call me to release my grip from what i treasure.
You call me to run hard in pursuit of You.
You call me to lay aside whatever hinders,
even if it is my very own self.
and if i don't?
if i run hard in the other direction,
if i blind my eyes and dull my senses,
if i stand watchful guard over my heart
not granting Your river of Life admittance...
i am no less known, no less guided by You, but
i am living from empty stores.
so in my battered and bruised understanding
of what it is to be known by You,
i fear the correction, the path, the Life You offer.

so yes, i want to be known.
i want to be known by a God of power.
i want to be rediscovered by a God of movement.
i want to be searched by a God of deep mercy.
but He already knows me to the utmost.
and if i likewise want to know myself,
He Himself must lift my head.
and i, timid and bruised,
must stand in His presence and wait.


--but i have waited 'til i am weary,
for i have filled my waiting with adolescent angst,
holding tightly to a state of being misunderstood.
but if truth is what i seek,
i cannot be possessed by misunderstanding.
for my God understands me completely.
what's more, He made and sustains me.
He has never, ever let me go.
so tired, in surrender, i cannot stand.
i run until i fall into Love,
a Love so deep as to completely hem me in.
yes, i want to be known.
but may i never be known without Love.

this Love that You give
is too rich, too good, too complete
to leave me as i am.
so i ask with a weakened, pleading, empty heart
that You would grant me the courage and the strength
to know Your Love without constraint,
to not fear Your admonition,
to live in the full understanding
of Your deep and penetrating grace.
You, oh God, have run hard in pursuit of me.
You have given me everything,
even Your very own Self.
You have set the example of redeeming life
by the surrender of self.
Lord, grant me that kind of abandon.
show me more of Who You are that i might live.
and as i live, give me the passion
to live in light of the truth
that You know me,
that You love me,
and that You are good.