Monday, December 22, 2008

I always look in wardrobes

We watched Prince Caspian last night. The storyline was so changed by Disney that I have a hard time liking it (but Emily! we still enjoyed it and thank you for the Christmas present... so I am not disgruntled with your gift!). Reepicheep and Aslan are its only redeeming factors. I know I know, I'm talking about Chronicles of Narnia, AGAIN. I love them though. My Dad read them to the whole family so many times when I was little, I almost know them by heart. And watching it last night, I was struck again, by the powerful picture C.S. Lewis painted of Jesus through the untame Lion. Lucy always shames me in her utter adoration of him. I would like to think that I too would always love him, that I would shout with laughter while snuggling into his warmth, and trust him throughout it all. But I know I wouldn't. I would be Edmund, the traitor, Peter, the all-knowing, or Susan, the whiner. I mean, I teared up during the movie, just like I do in the book, when Peter and Susan find that they aren't coming back. The thought of never seeing Aslan again hurts me. Hello? Do I cry at the thought of being apart from Christ? Am I so caught up in the fantasy of Narnia, that I can't see my own shallow soil, my own treachery, arrogance and contentiousness? Something I have come to realize lately is this: God loves us. Groundbreaking isn't it? Hold on, I'm not finished. He desires us... but, He isn't throwing Himself at our feet. He wants us to pursue Him, to work at this relationship. Just like any relationship here on earth. I don't expect my friends to just love me, regardless of how I treat them (granted, most of you do a wonderful job, considering I don't return phone calls for 4-5 days). I have to give them me. Even more so for my family... although they get to experience the ugly sides of Amy more than my friends do. And still they love me. They forgive me, seventy times seventy times. I cannot take them for granted! I will work to make it work. I can't, no, I WON'T just assume they will always love because I am their sister/daughter/ friend. I want them to WANT to love me. I want them to get pleasure out of knowing me.... and so, I love them as best as I know how. And it's hard work, folks. Because I'm a wretched sinner and they are stinky rags and I don't always want to love them. But I have to.
The same with God, barring, of course, the whole "sin" thing on HIS part. Him loving us isn't the issue. He loves us. End of story. And He desperately desires that we love Him in return. But He isn't going to let it be easy. Because if it was easy, I would take it for granted. The harder I have to work at discovering Him and who He truly is, the more passionate I will become and the closer I will cling. So.... it's back to square one, as I dust off my clothes and try, once again, to change my path back towards the One who even allowed me to stand back up in the first place.

P.S. Disney... The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is next. Try to curb the "story changing" department as much as you possibly can. Because if you mess up the dragon, the blackness, Deathwater Island, the Duffers, or worst of all, Eustace Clarence Scrubb who hadn't any friends, this girl will not be happy.


on to june said...

"There was once a boy named Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it." That's my favorite beginning to a story. Ever. There's alot to digest in this blog entry. I'll itemize my response to make this easier:
1) I'm really glad Aslan made a cameo in the Caspian movie. Nice of him to drop in (be it ever so briefly) on his way to the next movie.
2) You would be Lucy more than you know. I can see it. Trust me on this one.
3) I would totally be Edmund. My only comfort is at least I wouldn't be Susan. But I know I would end up asking how we know if we can trust Him, and then I would end up getting whipped by a mean little dwarf. Happens all the time, actually.
4) You're a really good friend. A lifesaver, actually.
5) I'm very thankful for grace and mercy. I am praying that The Lord will show me the depths of His love. I'm pretty desperate for that right now, so maybe, likewise, the place you're at is the best place to be at the moment. Our only purpose in this whole thing is to be molded into His image. Sculpting is a tough gig from our side of the process.

Amy said...

"His parents called him Eustace Clarence and his masters called him Scrubb. I can't tell you how his friends spoke to him, for he had none."
I have always said that that is, by far, the best opening to a book I have ever read. I'm not just copying you. I promise.
And JLM... thanks.