Chapter 16: The Very End of the World

King Caspian endures a stern rebuff by his fellow passengers in this chapter. Caspian desires to go with Reepicheep to see the World's End, but is told, by several voices, he may not. Reepicheep sums up their sentiments well, "You shall not please yourself with adventures as if you were a private person."

There are a couple of things in this statement which chill me.

1) "You shall not please yourself..." It reminds me how often I do live for my self, even if it is so I feel better about myself by doing a perceived selfless act. Do I serve others with a mind of my calling, or do I lean toward my own ambition, desire?

As kings and queens, our time here is not for our personal satisfaction. We are responsible to rule, to serve the citizens of Narnia, the (talking) beasts, the kingdom itself. It is a great responsibility. But one for which we were created.

This isn't to say Caspian (or we) can't have any fun. I believe Caspian has very much enjoyed time with his friends - as we see his sadness at their departure. But his friends also remind him his role, his journey, was to recover lost people. It was never meant to be a pleasure seeking boondoggle.

2) The other part of Reepicheep's reminder - "as if you were a private person" - echoes community for me. I am never meant to be or see myself as a solitary person. I am part of the people of God. We are on a quest. Together. Not a bunch of individuals in the same boat. We, collectively, share an identity - as a particular church (Lakeland) and as part of Christ's church (worldwide). To see my journey as separate from this collective identity is "called deserting" by Rynelf. I think this is why my heart aches when some friends leave the church. It lessens the whole entity. And we are all diminished by their absence.

Caspian's bullheadedness triggers a "meeting" with Aslan. He "speaks" to Caspian, bringing him to his senses. Aslan is described as "terrible", stern when necessary, but all done out of love. He desires Caspian to live into the life for which he was created. This is a marvelous reminder; when I do forget my role, Aslan will redirect me and steer me back.

I can't end this post without including my favorite lines by Aslan, " ... there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there." Yes! Isn't this why we love the Chronicles series? We learn about Aslan, understand his heart toward us. We are drawn to the character there because we see reflections of the Father here.

"But you shall meet me, dear one". May you desire the not tame lion above all else.

Chapter 15: The Wonders of the Last Sea

Water is underrated.

How often do you LONG for water? What rapturous adjectives describe it? How many of you are looking forward to water for your Christmas dinner?

I found myself thinking about the attributes of water (or lack thereof) as I read about the "sweet" water at the end of the world. The little value the water seemed to have was lost when Reepicheep clarified "sweet" meant "fresh," as in not salt (I was imagining a favorite flavor – or something with a kick!).

So the Narnians braved this amazing journey to the end of the world to find…water. How disappointing.

Or is it? Perhaps the issue is not the lack of water’s value, but the lack of my appreciation of it. Are my circumstances causing me to miss something important here?

• I am reminded of camping. We bring in all of our water, and suddenly every drop is guarded as we cook, clean, and drink.
• I think of the Haitians. Newly tortured by cholera (a water-borne killer), fresh water actually means life to them.

Hmmm…

The description of this wonder of the last sea continues:

• The water "shone like glass."
• After drinking, the King was changed. "Not only his eyes but everything about him seemed to be brighter."
• Caspian says, "That’s real water, that. It – it’s like light more than anything else."
• "It’s the loveliest thing I have ever tasted," Lucy said with a kind of gasp. "But oh – it’s strong. We shan’t need to eat anything now."
• After drinking, "for a long time they were all silent. They felt almost too well and strong to bear it."
• "Hardly a word was spoken on board all that day, till about dinner-time (no one wanted any dinner, the water was enough for them)…"

There is something deep going on. Holy, even.

This water is filling and changing them in a way they had never been filled or changed before. The water was enough for them.

(There is a beautiful connection here to the commentary from Chapter 12: The Dark Island. Lucy was changed… )

Listen to what Scripture says about water and thirst:

• Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, "If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. (John 7:37-39)
• God describes the restoration of His people: "They will neither hunger nor thirst, nor will the desert heat or the sun beat upon them. He who has compassion on them will guide them and lead them beside springs of water." (Isaiah 49:10)

Sounds…nice. I am underwhelmed.

Perhaps my problem is that I don’t often (ever?) feel thirst, the real thing. We know such immediate responses to this instinct (and often meet it as a want rather than a need), that the power of being thirsty is lost. We don’t relate to what God means.

And then we equate His response to our spiritual thirst to the physical thirst we barely know. And we are disappointed. Or underwhelmed.

Perhaps His response to our souls is much deeper, more alive, beyond what we ever thought or could have imagined. Perhaps His living water is like light – that shines and changes us.
Perhaps His love is not just a version of love we’ve tasted before, but an entirely different love so strong that, like Lucy, we can hardly bear it. We find no need for the ordinary just as the Narnians found no need for food. Perhaps there is a silence wherein we find that He is enough.

C.S. Lewis wrote, "If we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desire, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased." (The Weight of Glory)

Where do you settle for too little?

Chapter 13: The Three Sleepers

Aslan sets a lavished table every day for a great feast. It is there for the eating for any who would like to have it.

The three Narnian Lords came and sat at this table. But they didn't eat, instead they began to argue and fight among themselves. They touched the only object on the table humans were not meant to touch (the stone knife) and so fell into a deep sleep. Now they can do nothing but sleep until the curse is broken.

The crew of the Dawn Treader comes, but seeing the three sleepers makes them afraid to eat the food.

How familiar this story is...

The Lord God sets a lavish table for us. The world is filled with wonderful foods, exotic places, the joy of friends, and fun, and even sexual love with a spouse of our choosing.

But we come to Aslan's table and immediately begin fighting amongst ourselves. We turn all the food into some corn derrivative, add cancer-feeding chemicals, and enough sugar to send a hummingbird into insulin shock. Into the exotic places we spew toxic fumes, dig pits and fill them with crude oil, and pile up mountains of trash. We trade fun for cheap thrills, past-times for obsessions, and sex for disgusting displays that leave us feeling dirty at best and bored at worse.

Now when people look on what we've done with the world, it makes them suspicious of God. "What sort of God?" they ask, "Would set a table like this?" Until the curse is broken, no one can do anything but sleep through God's lavish feast.

There is indeed a curse upon our creation, but it is Jesus who has broken the curse and made a way into Aslan's country. Each time someone decides to pursue that kingdom, they and those they are closests to begin to wake up.

When my friend decides to go to Africa to heal women of diseases, I too realize that this is more important than my own desire to give my teeth an expensive bleaching. I want to pursue THAT kingdom instead!

When a member of my family prayers five times a day, I too realize that this more important than my own desire to follow my favorite TV show on Netflix. I want to pursue prayer instead!

When my family watches A Christmas Carol:

• My daughter (8) says, "The most important thing to Scrooge is money."
• My son (6) says, "The most important thing to me is God."

...I can only sit on the sofa and cry tears of happiness. My children are not asleep at the table of God. They are awake, and they will have the feast he has made for them.

Chapter 14: The Beginning of the End of the World

When we are close to the end of a massive undertaking, there often comes a decision point. Do we call it quits, or carry on to the end? This is precisely the juncture the adventurers faced in this chapter. They had to make up their minds if they would continue to “the very end of the world,” or stop where they were – “the beginning of the end of the world.” Other than the initial choice to embark on the journey, I reckon that this decision – to forge ahead when one doesn’t yet have the end in sight – is the most difficult.

Indulge me with what might seem like a silly example to most. Particularly since a skiing ‘incident’ (let’s just say it required a snowmobile to get me down the mountain) in 2009, I have been less than friendly with the feeling of rapidly sliding downward from a high place. So, when I saw the colossal waterslide at Lakeland camp, I knew we would not get along. But my husband and our friends were having so much fun! With a mixture of daring myself and abject terror, I decided to try it. On the way up the steps I tried to take comfort in the fact that my five-year-old niece wasn’t afraid. I begged my husband and the waterslide operator to give me tips on how to go as slowly as possible. Even so, at the top I had to resolve again – much like Caspian and his gang – whether I really would go through with it. I could’ve backtracked sheepishly down the stairs, in the same way that one lone sailor remained behind on the Island of the Star. But in the crucial moment, I decided to go for it. As I tried to smash my mat down with all my might, I realized that I was leaning back and holding my breath. That helped me feel more in control, but it also felt more frightening. Then, in my mind, I ‘heard’ an instruction to “lean forward and breathe.” Though it felt like losing control, it also slowed me down. I made it all the way to the bottom – without flying over the edge or dying of fright. As a person who tends to tread lightly through life, these simple instructions – “lean forward and breathe” – remind me to embrace my day and be present.

So when in a moment of pain or danger, try to picture your future self. What choice would make you proud of yourself once you are out of the fear and darkness? It’s easy to be an ‘armchair’ adventurer, but much more difficult to seize the opportunity when it presents itself.

Chapter 12: The Dark Island

As we see our friends approaching the Dark Island, we’re reminded of the fear ~ the gripping, irrational, overwhelming fear ~ we can experience in our worst dreams. Unlike so much of Narnia, where the most amazing and delightful magical things are everyday reality, on the Dark Island we see how we can become paralyzed by our fear of the unknown.

As they sit on the ship, helpless, anxious and (aside from the fearless Reepicheep) thoroughly desperate to find a way to retreat from the dark abyss, Lucy whispers a prayer.

I love this moment. Lucy certainly doesn't treat Aslan with a “vending machine” attitude. She has treasured her relationship with Aslan, but she has never seemed to demand his presence or beg him for things. But she is quite aware, even in her fear & terrifying circumstance, exactly who to cry out for -- the only one who is able to save her.

“Aslan, Aslan, if you ever loved us at all, send us help now.”

I once asked a friend, quite directly, “I want to know. Does prayer actually bend the hand of God?” I was tired of wondering if my prayers were in vain. Or telling people, “Of course I'll pray for you!” only to wonder if it was even worth the time. My wise friend quickly answered, “Well, I don’t know if it changes God’s hand, but I do know it always changes the one who prays.”

And I see that truth here, in Lewis’ depiction of Lucy’s plea to Aslan. For though we do not see even one detail immediately change regarding their dire situation, Lewis’ writes that Lucy changed. She began to feel “a little better.” And soon, she sees a beam of light...and hears the voice whispering back to her, “Courage, dear heart.”

How beautiful is that? As she quiets her heart in the midst of the darkness and prays, Lucy is changed.

(Interesting note: C.S. Lewis illustrates this principle of prayer in the The Last Battle as well. As Tirian is left alone, tied to a tree, he calls out, "Aslan! Aslan! Aslan! Come and help us now!" There the brilliant Lewis writes, "There was no change in the night or the wood, but there began to be a kind of change in Tirian. Without knowing why, he began to feel a faint hope.")

I want to be like Lucy. She abides & trusts -- and she alone was able to hear the voice she was sure was Aslan’s ~ even on the Dark Island.

Chapter 11: The Dufflepuds Made Happy

Most of us are Dufflepuds. Some of us are Magicians. A very few of us are Stars.

C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien and Owen Barfield were all Oxford Professors and part of a small intellectual group called The Inklings. We need to understand these mens' mind. All were experts in Medieval philosophy and literature such as Ptolemy and Dante's Inferno. Like his friends, Lewis believed the ancient mind was better. They believed in "a noble savage." Don't think of the "pre-historic homonoids" like Cro-magnans or Neandrathals - cave men and the like. But rather think of Lewis' Narnia and Tolkien's Middle Earth, both populated with "proper thinking" beings, elves, dwarves, talking trees, mountains with feelings, and Kings and Queens endowed with wisdom, true beauty and nobility. These Originals did not split the world into science and philosophy, like biology and Existentialism. The world was all a single unified Oneness. God was present and walked amongst the creation. There was no need for magic because nothing was impossible.

In The Chronicles of Narnia Lewis is attempting to educate the reader in the way humans are originally designed to perceive the universe. Of course the only way to properly educate anyone, The Inklings would say, is with "myth" or story, poetry and song - a Tale - thus, Narnia. To simply give a lecture about the primordial world would be just plain Dufflepud. Lewis wants us to correlate the Dufflepuds to Modern humanity, so full of "rational thinking," black and white politics, scientific facts and even "Atheism," as though a person could actually belief their is no God because they reasoned it out with their rational mind.

The noble savage could speak with trees not because they were magicians but because trees talk. The elves in Tolkien's The Lord of Rings don't understand when the Hobbits ask them if they are using magic. Magic? What is that? No, they learned the trees' language and spoke to them and taught them how to talk. In Narnia the animals speak because they are "awake," or rather the humans are awake.

So Dufflepuds... not too smart, eh? They cannot think for themselves. They only do what their tribal Chief tells them. Figuratively speaking, they are blind. Lewis' message is clear: "Modern man/woman is a fool. They've rationalized away God and the real universe." In thinking they are smarter and better than the past races of man, they only end up stupid Dufflepuds.

I reflect upon the November elections and the mudslinging and banal attacks candidates made against each other. It isn't that the politicians are all fools. But the candidates' campaign directors knew that the common Dufflepudder could be swayed by cheap personal attack strategies. We live in a beer-commercial world folks. Sound-bites, sex and bathroom humor sells to Dufflepuds, because we don't know how to think.

Garrett Lahey preached last Sunday at Lakeland about John's Revelation and 'the mark of the beast.' He said we already have the mark on our forehead and hand IF we've bought in to our culture's storyline for 'successful living...' affluence, greatness, power, dominance, comfort, fear, competition and compulsion (those are my words, not Garrett's). What we must strive for is a G-d worldview - that is, to see things as the unknowable G-d might see them. Jesus comes to show how this is done. He is the Star. He asks his followers to be Magicians - Seers, Wisemen/women, Wizards who have an integrated worldview where G-d is present everywhere because G-d is actually everywhere.

What if Narnia wasn't a story? What if Narnia was real? What if there was a different visible reality all around us that we just needed the proper vision to see? This much is certainly true: if G-d is here, then so is his reality. Pray for vision!

¹⁴ In them is fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah:

“‘You will be ever hearing but never understanding;
you will be ever seeing but never perceiving.
¹⁵ For this people’s heart has become calloused;
they hardly hear with their ears,
and they have closed their eyes.
Otherwise they might see with their eyes,
hear with their ears,
understand with their hearts
and turn, and I would heal them.’

¹⁶ But blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear. - Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 13

Chapter 10: The Magician's Book

It was difficult to choose one thing from this chapter, but I've settled on an exchange between Lucy and Aslan. Lucy has just finished reading the invisible to visible spell in the Magician's book when she discovers Aslan is with her.
"Oh, Aslan," said she, "it was kind of you to come."
"I have been here all the time," said he, "but you have just made me visible."
"Aslan!" said Lucy almost a little reproachfully. "Don't make fun of me. As if anything I could do would make you visible!"
"It did," said Aslan. "Do you think I wouldn't obey my own rules?"

I am so enamored with this realization --- Lucy has the ability to make Aslan appear. It is because Aslan is obeying his own rules, but Lucy's actions are key to his appearing.

You and I have this same ability. Our actions have the ability to cause people to see the Father. You and me. Our actions can reveal him.

This is mind-boggling. You and I have power to reveal the Maker of the universe?! On one hand, I know it is true because I've seen it happen. People have been loving or forgiving or encouraging to me or someone else and when I see it, I can easily say - that is nothing less than the living God moving and acting. I've seen someone say words to a friend, words that were not yet true, words containing great hope of who my friend might become. And then my friend lived into making those words true and real. I've seen a friend forgive someone who broke a deep trust, who took a part of his heart and truly was intentional on hurting him. The forgiving revealed the Father to me as surely as if he was standing next to me.

Can you relate?

On the other hand, I think I minimize my ability to cause the High King of Heaven to be revealed to anyone. I, like Lucy, doubt if anything I could do would make him visible. What good will this small tithe do? What difference will this small kindness make? How will saying these words change anything?

Can you relate?

Have you seen God revealed by someone else? I'd love to hear about it.

When have you revealed God to someone else? Maybe in the re-telling, it might reveal Aslan all over again.

Chapter 9: The Island of the Voices

Wow, what just happened? The blabbering of the voices throughout this chapter can be at once overwhelming and comical! What are these things? And why do they like their Chief Voice so much?

There are two illustrations that come to mind as I am inundated by the chorus of agreement that follows the Chief Voice:

1. the stuff we want/"need"
2. the lies we believe

#1: Does anyone else feel overwhelmed by the choruses of agreement that follow the Chief Voice of "buy, buy buy"? Bigger, better, more. We thought the wii was fun, but it’s nothing compared to the Kinect! Remember when power locks were cool? Now we have automatic doors, heated seats, split-screen DVD players, and remote start. For Pete’s sake, you can now get your sunglasses polarized, HD, built from bomb-proof Grilamid 8, with Prismatic Polycarbonate lenses. I’m not even kidding.

And then what happens when you don't have what is expected? Don't get me started on the pity I receive for the fact that my three children share a room - what unnameable torture!!

Does it ever feel like you are being followed by the Other Voices saying, "Keep it up, keep it up! You couldn’t have a better plan than that, Chief!" or "Hear him, hear him. That’s our Chief. You can depend on what he says. He’s telling you the truth, he is."

Which leads to #2: Is that Chief Voice telling us the truth? Hmmm, that’s a good question, if I do say so myself. I’ve picked on "stuff" as my first example – but we believe lies about so many things – especially ourselves. And once again, as soon as the Chief Voice sells us a lie, there are 50 other lies right behind it in the chorus. Lies encourage each other and multiply like rabbits.

• My friend doesn’t care about me. "No, she doesn’t! Did you see that look on her face? Did you notice how she didn’t even TRY to help you out? Can you believe how long it’s been since SHE called ME? I’m always the one who has to make the first move. And after all those times I’ve overlooked what she does to me! That’s right, that’s right – you’ve got it! She doesn’t care at all! Couldn’t have said it better or truer myself!"
  
• I’m just not good enough. "Nope, no way, not a chance! I can’t believe you said that, and don’t even get me started on your nose, your hair, your butt. You should eat less, exercise more, talk less, talk more, read more, pray more, volunteer more, be more patient with your kids, be less competitive, be more competitive, work less, work more, try harder, don’t try so hard… And definitely, don’t tell anyone about THAT! They would NEVER give you chance if they knew…"

If you think the chorus of lies does make sense, let me point out an example from the end of the chapter which shows the fever pitch of insanity that can be reached: the Chief Voice realizes, "Why, bless me, if I haven’t gone and left out the whole point." And good grief if the voices don’t just encourage that too: "That you have, that you have," roared the Other Voices with great enthusiasm. "No one couldn’t have left it out cleaner and better. Keep it up, Chief, keep it up."

Beware the voices!

What is the Chief Voice saying to you? What never-ending chorus do you fight for the truth?

Chapter 8: Two Narrow Escapes

I’m beginning to feel a little sorry for Eustace, but he just makes for such good illustrations. For Eustace, it was the ordinary things in life – unending rain and losing at chess – that threw him off of his new path. Similarly, the repetitive chores in life – making the bed, doing laundry, washing dishes – sometimes lead me to grumble and to be ‘small’.

Yet Eustace did not remain long in his sulky ‘smallness’. He performed his first act of bravery by chopping at the Sea Serpent with Caspian’s sword. Sure, it did not help, but that was not important. As Lewis said, Eustace did well for a “beginner”: a beginner at swordplay, yes, but, more importantly, a beginner at bravery. It might seem condescending that the Dawn Treader’s adventurers cheered him when he “accomplished nothing” tangible. But this was one of those times when the intention really was what counted. Eustace had come a long way.

For, just two chapters earlier, Lewis had been chiding Eustace for reading all the wrong types of books. Here was a young boy who didn’t even know what a dragon was! Edmund read books that were rather more helpful for their cause. He read stories about detectives. What he read helped him narrow down what had happened to the fellow on whose armor they were sitting. Can you think of a time in your life when something you read came in very handy later? Lewis was not shy about promoting the importance of reading. He was frighteningly well-read in the Classics, but he also read for adventure and fun. Maybe he saw something of himself in both Eustace and Edmund. As a youth, Lewis was a bit self-satisfied with his scholarly accomplishments, like Eustace. But, like Edmund, he enjoyed getting lost in an entertaining book.

After Edmund’s sleuthing, the group discovered an interesting pool that turned anything that touched the water into gold. Caspian and Edmund began quarrelling about who would claim the island and who was the more important king. Caspian seemed possessed as he declared ownership of the island for Narnia. This seems like a critique of imperialism, a practice at which Lewis’ country had excelled. The quarrel over who was the greater king reminds me of Jesus’ disciples fighting about which of them would be the greatest in heaven. Jesus made it clear that they just didn’t understand what was important. To be great in his kingdom meant becoming like a child or a servant. (Mark 9:33-37) Back in Narnia, a mere glimpse of Aslan snapped Caspian and Edmund out of their ‘smallness’.

Chapter 7: How the Adventure Ended

By random selection I got Chapter 7. I bet every blogger wishes he or she had gotten chapter 7. Chapter 7 is going to be the most talked about part of the book. On the Narnia Adventure Weekend (Dec 11) Chapter 7 is going to be the most focused upon. Chapter 7 is the part of the movie we are all hoping they will do well and it is also the part they are the least likely to properly capture on film.

Everyone will be talking about Eustace's being un-dragoned. The layers of his dragon-ness being pealed away. The way only Aslan can truly free him. The closing paragraphs about Eustace's journey, that he didn't change all at once, will be discussed often.

I don't want to write about this, I want to find some other more obscure or interesting part that won't be so heavily travelled.

But Chapter 7 is the most like the Gospel story. It is a story that never wears out. It is the story that gets told again and again, and yet we keep forgetting it. I think I'm bored of it, but it must be told again. There are still people who don't know! I still don't know.

So once again:

Eustace was a dragon, but he wasn't ALL dragon. He longed to change and indeed he tried but he couldn't do it by himself. We cannot heal ourselves.

Only Aslan (Christ) could peal off his deepest layers of sin.

This pealing was, at the same time, the most painful and the most freeing experience of Eustace's life. If you want change, be ready for it to hurt.

He was washed in water and given new clothes by Aslan.

And for the rest of his life he kept on being un-dragoned. He had good days and bad days, but the bad days can be overlooked, for on this day his healing had begun!

Therefore whoever is in Christ is a new creation. The old has gone. The new has come. -- 2 Corinthians 5:17

One more telling of the old, old tale.

Chapter 6: The Adventures of Eustace

“The work had gone well so far and it was a merry meal. Only after the second helping of goat did Edmund say, “Where’s that blighter Eustace?”

As the curtains draw back on Chapter Six of our story, we see Caspian and the children celebrating work well done with a marvelous feast of roast goat and wine by the river. And yet, as the meal lingers on, we hear Edmund asking for the whereabouts of his difficult, sullen and unimaginative cousin, Eustace.

Where was Eustace? He has wandered off and found himself in a dragon’s lair -- and it’s a lair filled with mountains of treasure! Once the dragon who lives in the cave is officially dead, Eustace thinks his prospects are finally looking up. With this much wealth, he can live like a King in Narnia and finally stick it to those horrid cousins! Revenge! With treasures in his pockets and gold on his arm, Eustace falls asleep.

And here we see C.S. Lewis’ brilliant tableau of the deceptive human heart & God’s mercy so masterfully written....

“He had turned into a dragon while he was asleep. Sleeping on a dragon’s hoard with greedy, dragonish thoughts in his heart, he had become a dragon himself.”

Whenever I read this chapter, my heart is always deeply pricked by that sentence. I wish it was harder for me to relate to Eustace! He didn’t become a dragon overnight. Instead, when he awoke he was finally able to see his reflection in the water and was suddenly aware of what he already was...what he had been becoming for a very long time. A dragon. A greedy, hoarding, bully of a dragon. As it says in Proverbs (23:7)..”for what a man thinks in his heart, so is he.”

Painfully, I can relate. I allow sinful, dragonish thoughts to grow. They begin as the tiniest seeds of lust, envy or fear, and instead of nipping them in the bud, I turn them over and over in my mind, admiring them like shiny gems. I listen to the lies and insecurities and suddenly I find myself far closer to a dragon than I ever thought possible!

But what awoke Eustace? A pain in his arm. The golden bracelet he had shoved on in his haste to snatch as much treasure as possible was suddenly biting and pinching into his now large, dragon foreleg.

It was the pain that woke him up.

It was pain that caused him to climb out of the dragon’s cave, wander to the river, see his reflection and face the reality of what he truly was.

C.S. Lewis, in his book “The Problem with Pain” says “...God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."

Gentle admonitions hadn’t worked. Strong criticism hadn’t worked. Dramatic events hadn’t seemed to phase him. He had been in a bedroom, seen a painting come to life and been sucked into an ocean for goodness sake! No use. Like myself at times, Eustace was far too mired in pride and lies to hear the gentle nudging of the Holy Spirit. It took real, sharp pain to wake him up and offer him another chance to change. Can you relate Eustace, as I do?


Can you identify times in your life where God has used a painful experience (self-inflicted or otherwise) as a megaphone to your deaf ears?

How do you respond to these painful awakenings?

Chapter 5: The Storm and What Came of It

A wall of water hits the Dawn Treader, a storm rages on for days, Eustace continues his miserable journal, and finally the ship makes shore on a deserted island. Eustace wanders off and falls asleep. When he awakens he is lost.

Along one's spiritual journey there are storms. To the unseeing Eustaces' of our world these are nothing but miseries. But g-d means it use the storms in our lives. I didn't say 'for good' - like now our dark cloud can have it's silver lining - because the best result of a storm is "lostness." One has to think one is 'found' or 'oriented' to complain and be miserable about one's surroundings. But become LOST - and now there is only one singular sensation: "WHERE AM I?"

This is the question g-d wants us to ask each moment, each day, each season of our lives. "Where am I?" Only in disorientation are we shoved and pushed to the temple of g-d for directions.

We should pray for disorientation! We should pray for lostness! We should pray for our house of cards to be blown down, this sham life, our cheap artificial Christian life, our dime-store "God" who is no bigger than our mind's eye - to fall. After all, the God we imagine is only as big as we let it be. And the God we fabricate will never change us because it is not bigger than us. So something has to happen TO us (not come out of us). Then we change.

Get ready Eustace.

Chapter 4: What Caspian Did There

“I want to know why you have permitted this abominable and unnatural traffic of slaves to grow up here, contrary to the ancient custom and usage of our dominions.” This is Caspian’s question to Gumpas, the guy in charge of governing the island Felimath.

This question makes me itch. I believe Jesus asks this same question; why have you allowed this to happen? This is not how we (I and my followers) are supposed to live. I gave you all authority in heaven and on earth …

Oh sure, I don’t have slaves living in my house. But slavery does still exist, in our world, in our country, in our city. Why have we allowed this to happen?

The sad part is I don’t even know how much I personally profit from slave labor. Did slaves make my shirt before it was sold to Old Navy? Did slaves pick my dinner vegetables before being packaged and shipped to Price Chopper?

Here’s the response from Gumpas; “Necessary, unavoidable … an essential part of the economic development … I assure you. Our present burst of prosperity depends on it.”

Because I’d rather pay $9.99 for a pair of shoes made in (pick a country) instead of paying much more by being made in slave free trade, does this justify my frugality? Or because I desire ‘affordable’ fresh fruit grown in South America, does it justify the middleman to offer poverty wages to the farmer?

“Does your good majesty mean to beggar me?”

I cringe at how Pug’s reply seems to mirror my own.

But Caspian pursues him, “You have lived on broken hearts all your life – and if you are beggared, it is better to be a beggar than a slave.”

In our world, where we now know how things are made and sold, where injustice is exposed, we are responsible. We are the wealthy. How many broken hearts have I/we lived on?

I leave you to wrestle with this … As kings and queens of Narnia, how should we live?

Chapter 3: The Lone Islands

I know there is kidnapping and adventure in chapter three, but my favorite line was, "There was a lark singing."

That simple statement felt out of place. The pause pointed me to read the entire paragraph again, and this time I actually connected with what I had already read: "barefoot on downy turf," "delightful," "warm," "pleasant."

How many times do we speed through life the way I sped through that paragraph, missing the beauty? Lucy was soaking up her world – every sense was tuned to the feel of downy turf, the smell of earth and grass, the sound of a lark singing. Her senses were heightened to squeeze every nuance out of every moment.

Notice that Lucy has been engaging the Narnian world all along:

• "…as Lucy and Edmund sipped [the spiced wine] they could feel the warmth going right down to their toes." (chapter 1)
• "When she had finished dressing she looked out of her window at the water rushing past and took a long deep breath. She felt quite sure they were in for a lovely time." (chapter 1)
• "…the smell in the cabin when she opened [her flask of cordial] was delicious." (chapter 2)
• "…when they turned aft to the cabin and supper, and saw the whole western sky lit up with an immense crimson sunset, and felt the quiver of the ship, and tasted the salt on their lips, and thought of unknown lands on the eastern rim of the world, Lucy felt that she was almost too happy to speak." (chapter 2)

And notice the contrast with Eustace’s responses to the same events:

• he spat out the spiced wine and began to cry;
• in his cabin we find him with a scowl and seasickness;
• he labeled the cordial "beastly stuff;"
• and at the time of the sunset, Eustace "would be pleased with nothing."

I think I can safely say he missed the lark singing.

Are you more like Lucy or more like Eustace?

I am reminded: I have five senses that I can too easily ignore as I go through my day. There is work, laundry, e-mail, shopping, mowing, cooking, repairing, and cleaning to be done. I can be overwhelmed with life and miss the lark singing. But sing he does…and when I take it in, I allow the bubble of my busyness (or crankiness) to be burst in order to enjoy the world God has put me in.

For me, the lark’s song looks like a hug from my daughter, my husband’s eyes as I welcome him home, a beautiful harmony I hear on the radio, the warmth of a cup of cocoa, my mom’s laughter on a phone call, the smell of a campfire, the sight of leaves dancing in the breeze, the kindness of one person to another.

"We tend to think of pleasure as oases of enjoyment in a desert of humdrum. But Narnia shows us that pleasure saturates all of life… All creation is infused with delight that tells us something of the love of the God who created us to experience pleasure. Just wake up your senses and enjoy." (Thomas Williams, The Heart of the Chronicles of Narnia, p. 28-29)

What does "a lark singing" look like in your world?
What do your senses enjoy that show you where God is throughout your day?

Chapter 2: On Board the Dawn Treader

Edmund and Lucy responded to Eustace’s bad attitude in different ways. Edmund felt that they should leave Eustace alone in his sulkiness. According to Edmund, “It only makes him worse if you try to be nice to him.” Lucy, however, felt guilty enough to postpone the tour of the Dawn Treader in order to check on him. Lucy even used a drop of her precious cordial to cure Eustace’s seasickness. (Later, she also took care of Eustace’s hand after his run-in with Reepicheep.) Why did they react so differently? Was it just a difference in their personalities, or did their parents raise them differently, even in the same household? More importantly, which response to Eustace will help him overcome his sour disposition? Or will both help him in unique ways?

Apparently, Eustace did not feel very grateful for Lucy’s help in curing his seasickness. In his diary, Eustace wrote, “it’s a good thing I’m not seasick.” Either he was lying and boasting, claiming he never had been sick, or he was stating the present facts, without mentioning Lucy’s selflessness. Whichever was the case, he forgot about his weakness and neediness the moment that he felt better. In my own life, there’s nothing like a case of the stomach flu to remind me that I am utterly dependent on God. There’s something about being tethered to the toilet that makes me beg for his help. Yet, once I feel better, it’s not long before I fall back into the illusion of my own strength.

Perhaps no one got on Eustace’s nerves quite like Reepicheep. Maybe it was because Reepicheep’s dreams so far out measured his own small stature. Of all the heroic figures on board the Dawn Treader, it was a mouse who dared to think they could find the actual country from which Aslan came. Even more ridiculous to a naysayer like Eustace, Reepicheep based his goal on a poem that a Dryad told him as a baby. He said, “I do not know what it means. But the spell of it has been on me all of my life.” C. S. Lewis knew what it was like in his own life to be ‘haunted’ by something beautiful, mysterious, and just out of one’s grasp. Lewis called it “northernness.” In that word he tried to sum up the delicious longing he felt when he read Norse mythology. What haunts you? Perhaps a song, a movie, or a painting hints at it, but you can never quite look at it full on. Don’t give up. As Lewis said in Mere Christianity, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”

Chapter 1: The Picture in the Bedroom

There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.

From the moment you read these first words of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader you know you are meeting the unlikeable character, if not the villain, of the story. What is it, we wonder, that makes Eustace Scrubb so deserving of such an unpleasant sounding name?

Why of course, he has no imagination.

That's it?

Indeed it is. Eustace has no imagination. His parents have no imagination, and for that, they emerge as the "bad guys" of our tale. Eustace can't dream of better things and so he is completely caught up in ordinary things. And the ordinary is so dreadfully ordinary that it leaves Eustace with nothing better to do than evil.

He can't imagine imaginary countries, and so he makes fun of others who do. He has no daring or sense of adventure, so he settles for criticizing. He has no hope to be great or heroic, so he must content himself with being practical. And complaining about things which are not practical occupies all of his time.

Much that is wrong with our lives as Christians springs from our lack of imagination. We don't read the scriptures because they cause us to think. Not wishing to think, we'd rather sit around and say, "I can't understand them. They aren't clear enough. I tried once and didn't get anything out of it." We don't pray because we cannot possibly imagine how it might profit us. We don't give generously because we see no potential for good in it (an anyway, was anything EVER less practical than giving money away?) Suffering for us is not "a part of every great adventure"; when you have no imagination suffering is simply something you use to prove there is no God. Small Groups? Who needs those silly people? Worship? I don't like singing--I doubt God likes it either. Serving? I have better (more practical) things to do with my time (like laundry). Compassion on the poor? They should get a job. Tell My Story of Faith? I haven't one to tell. Nothing special ever happened to me.

Erwin McManus tells us, "We all want miracles in our life, but then spend our life ignoring the places and avoiding the situations where miracles happen." [Seizing Your Divine Moment]

When did you last take a chance on Jesus with a fiery imagination?
What are the divine moments you passed over because you let Eustace Scrubb rule the day?