The Lion

"I do think,” said Shasta, “that I must be the most unfortunate boy that ever lived in the whole world. Everything goes right for everyone except me. Those Narnian Lords and ladies got safe away from Tashbaan; I was left behind. Aravis and Bree and Hwin are all as snug as anything with that old Hermit; of course I was the one who was sent on. King Lune and his people must have got safely into the castle and shut the gates long before Rabadash arrived, but I get left out.”

And being very tired and having nothing inside him, he felt so sorry for himself that the tears rolled down his cheeks.

What put a stop to all this was a sudden fright. Shasta discovered that someone or somebody was walking beside him. It was pitch dark and he could see nothing. And the Thing (or Person) was going so quietly that he could hardly hear any footfalls. What he could hear was breathing. His invisible companion seemed to breathe on a very large scale, and Shasta got the impression that it was a very large creature. And he had come to notice this breathing so gradually that he had really no idea how long it had been there. It was a horrible shock.

The Thing (unless it was a Person) went on beside him so very quietly that Shasta began to hope he had only imagined it. But just as he was becoming quite sure of it, there suddenly came a deep, rich sigh out the the darkness beside him. That couldn’t be imagination! Anyway, he had felt the hot breath of that sigh on his chilly left hand.

If the horse had been any good—or if he had known how to get any good out of the horse— he would have risked everything on a breakaway and a wild gallop. But he knew he couldn’t make that horse gallop. So he went on at a walking pace. And the unseen companion walked and breathed beside him. At last he could bear it no longer.

“Who are you?” he said, scarcely above a whisper.

“One who has waited long for you to speak,” said the thing. Its voice was not loud, but very large and deep.

“Are you, are you a giant?” asked Shasta.

“You might call me a giant,” said the large voice, “but I am not like the creatures you call giants.”

“I can’t see you at all,” said Shasta, after staring very hard. Then—for an even more terrible idea had come into his head—he said, almost in a scream, you’re not, not… something dead, are you? Oh, please, please do go away? What harm have I ever done you? Oh, I am the unluckiest person in the whole world!”

Once more he felt the warm breath of the Thing on his hand and face. “There,” it said, “that is not the breath of a ghost. Tell me your sorrows.”

Shasta was a little reassured by the breath: so he told how he had never known his real father or mother and had been brought up sternly by the fisherman. And then he told the story of his escape and how they were chased by lions and forced to swim for their lives; and of all their dangers in Tashbaan and about his night among the tombs and how the beasts howled at him out of the desert. And he told about the heat and thirst of their desert journey and how they were almost at their goal when another lion chased them and wounded Aravis. And also, how very long it was since he had had anything to eat.

“I do not call you unfortunate,” said the Large Voice.

“Don’t you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.

“There was only one lion,” said the Voice.

“What on earth do you mean? I’ve just told you there were at least two the first night, and–“

“There was only one: but he was swift of foot.”

“How do you know?”

“I was the Lion.” And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. “I was the Lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the Cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the Lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the Lion who gave the horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the Lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.”

“Then it was you who wounded Aravis?”

“It was I.”

“But what for?”

“Child,” said the Voice, “I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own.”

“Who are you?” asked Shasta.

“Myself,” said the voice, very deep and low so that the earth shook: and again, “Myself,” loud and clear and gay: and then the third time “Myself,” whispered so softly you could hardly hear it, and yet it seemed to come from all round you as if the leaves rustled with it.

Shasta was no longer afraid that the voice belonged to something that would eat him, nor that it was the voice of a ghost. But a new and different sort of trembling came over him, yet he felt glad too…

…He turned and saw, pacing beside him, taller than the horse, a Lion. The horse did not seem to be afraid of it or else could not see it. It was from the Lion that the light came. No one ever saw anything more terrible or beautiful.

Luckily Shasta had lived all his life too far south in Calormen to have heard the tales that were whispered in Tashbaan about a dreadful Narnian demon that appeared in the form of a lion. And of course, he knew none of the true stories about Aslan, the great Lion, the son of the Emperor-over-the-sea, the King above all High Kings in Narnia. But after one glance at the Lion’s face, he slipped out of the saddle and fell at its feet. He couldn’t say anything but then he didn’t want to say anything, and he knew he needn’t say anything.

The High King above all kings stooped toward him. Its mane, and some strange and solemn perfume that hung about the mane, was all around him. It touched his forehead with its tongue. He lifted his face and their eyes met. Then instantly, the pale brightness of the mist and the fiery brightness of the Lion rolled themselves together into a swirling glory, and gathered themselves up… and disappeared. He was alone with the horse on a grassy hillside under a blue sky. And there were birds singing. 

I have always loved the picture Lewis paints of Aslan in The Chronicles of Narnia, and listening again to these books on cd has been no different. I think it paints a remarkable picture of His involvement in our lives--one that isn't so clearly seen when I look at my own life. Last night, I was listening before going to sleep, and this passage brought a great deal of peace back to my mind. I thought back over the story and how Aslan, completely unbeknownst to them, had guided them through every step of their journey. His guidance had been quite a fearful one, as they had thought themselves fleeing from deadly danger. And yet, He was lovingly guiding them all along. His midnight chase at the beginning to drive Aravis and Shasta and the horses to meet each other... His protection of Shasta from the wild animals as he lay by the tombs... His last chase to spur the horses on in order to get them there in time to bring the news... And all of these clear appearances of the Lion were accompanied by the directing of every other detail (although the Lion's presence wasn't clearly seen as with the others)--Shasta being seen by King Edmund on the streets in order to hear the Narnian's plans, learn the way across the desert, and meet Prince Corin; Aravis beeing seen by her cousin who was able to safely get her and the horses the rest of the way through the city, but not before hearing the crucial plans of Rabadash against Narnia... each seemingly tragic turn in the story was all orchestrated so perfectly that, had one detail been different, the happy ending would not have been quite so happy. 

It's so beautiful to read about, and so easy for me to see how they could have trusted the Lion all along, knowing He was leading their every step. But it's not so easy to think the same in my own life. I'm in China for less than one more month. After that, I'll go back to America to who knows what. I don't know what comes next. I wasn't too anxious about this before, but having been offered some new options, and the possibility to return to China, I have recently started fretting more. In addition to that, I have been anxious over my remaining time here... What am I doing with my time? How can I most influence these people I love so, sharing God's love with them somehow before I leave them? On and on and on my mind goes with anxious questions as I try to sleep. But again, last night I felt peace. The 'Lion' will lead me--even if He has to chase me to rivers or spur me on with fear, even if he has to 'injure' me in the process or spoil every plan I have made for myself... He will lead me. I am safe, in the sense that He will not let me go astray from His plans. "The mind of a man plans his way, but the LORD directs his steps." I can plan as diligently as possible, yet He will still be the one directing my steps, guiding me just as Aslan guided the children and horses even without them knowing...

Shasta, late in the story, finally begins to pick up on his 'safety' in the Lion's care...

…The hillside path which they were following became narrower all the time, and the drop on their right hand became steeper. At last they were going in single file along the edge of the precipice. And Shasta shuddered to think that he had done the same last night without knowing it. “But of course,” he thought, “I was quite safe. That is why the Lion kept on my left. He was between me and the edge all the time…”

We have no need to fear. The 'Lion' will keep on our left when we are walking next to the edge... 

And yet another realization of Shasta's: 

 But of course that was the same boat that Aslan—he seems to be at the back of all the stories—pushed to shore at the right place for Arsheesh to pick me up.

Not only did Shasta recognize the Lion's guidance and protection, but he finally came to know that Aslan was at "the back of all the stories..." Every one of their stories--as different as each was--had Aslan behind it, orchestrating every tiny, and not so tiny, detail to weave all of the stories together for His beautiful plans. Not once was any story out of His control. 

There's a beautiful sort of peace in knowing that I am not writing my own story. There's even peace in knowing that having to fearfully flee, being chased by a terrifying lion, and even injured and put through pain because of that lion, can be God's way of pushing us right where He needs us--for His glory and our good.

Finally, I remember a quote from one of the other Narnia books that relates beautifully to all of this: 

"Is he—quite safe?"

"Safe?" said Mr. Beaver... "Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."

Our King is the same. He isn't 'safe'... following Him isn't 'safe'... life with and for Him isn't 'safe.' But He is good. And He is the King. 

Earbuds

So I turned on the song that my friend sent for me to listen to… turned it up, so I could hear it alright, and proceeded to listen, as I simultaneously did some other things. I was enjoying the music—a Christmas song, so of course I loved it—and didn’t even notice anything lacking or different in the song. I continued to listen for some time, until I decided I wanted it a bit louder. I tried to turn it up, only to realize that it was as loud as it would go. But clearly, it was not at full volume. Finally, my eyes shifted down to the white wire coming from the headphone jack in my computer, and I realized that I was listening to this song full blast—but through the tiny headphones, which were not so loud when nowhere close to my ears. I picked up those two little white ear buds, put them in my ears, and was introduced to an incredibly more full and beautiful sound. The ‘oh, this song is kind of nice,’ turned into, ‘wow, this is actually an incredibly beautiful song,’ and it grabbed my full attention more and more--pulling my thoughts away from the other things I was doing. The fullness of the different instruments coming together in the clarity that the ear buds now offered my ears was incredible compared to the distant, muffled sound I had thought I was enjoying before. Then I thought about life and my relationship with God. Of course, I have a relationship with Him… I have for some time now. And I would even go so far as to say my relationship with Him is okay. But I wonder if I’m quite often just being content with a relationship through a distant headphone wire when He would love to offer me the full, complete beauty of the clear, distinct, yet combined sounds of so many instruments directly into my ears.

After experiencing the latter option regarding my music, I definitely wouldn’t want to go back to the distant, dreadfully lacking sound I had settled for previously…

Lessons from the Lotus

So after 11 months of eating lotus root—since China cooks and serves it many different ways in every province I’ve been to—I learned just last night that there is a very special meaning behind the lotus flower.  My Chinese roommate, Nancy, started explaining it to me, so I did some of my own research this afternoon. “The lotus flower starts as a small flower down at the bottom of a pond in the mud and muck. It slowly grows up towards the water’s surface continually moving towards the light. Once it comes to the surface of the water the lotus flower begins to blossom and turn into a beautiful flower.” My roommate’s explanation was similar, talking of the mud this flower begins in, and how incredible it is that it rises above the water so pure, clean, and beautiful. Its life begins in a less-than-ideal, even harsh, environment, one full of mud and mire; but it pushes through the mud until it breaks through the surface of the water a stunningly beautiful flower. As Nancy explained to me, and as I read more online today about “the lotus flower, bringing beauty and light from the murky darkness at the bottom of the pond,” I instantly pictured my time here in China. Although I was sent here to bring this “beauty and light,” I instead felt covered with mud for most of my time here. I spent so much time being selfish, having a pity party, wishing I could leave, even questioning my faith… I hated who I was becoming, as I felt like the mud of the world and my own selfishness were killing me inside. And yet, somehow—clearly by no effort of my own—I kept being lifted further up, gradually feeling some of the mud falling off of me. And although I do not claim to be a beautiful lotus flower now, nor have I ever felt hat way… I was reminded that God sees me that way. Even when I am the most covered in mud, not having the victory I would like and expect to see in my life, He still sees me as a pure, stunning lotus flower—a flower that He is growing further and further away from the mud, closer and closer to the surface of the water and the Son. And God’s role in all of this… leads me into the next part of this lotus flower description.

After the actual ‘flower’ background, Nancy then explained that the seeds of the lotus root, which live in the very center of all the petals, have another meaning all together. Apparently the name of the seeds in Chinese is pronounced the same as the Chinese phrase that describes parents really loving their children and wanting the best for them.  So there again, I was reminded how much God loves me—just as a parent loves his/her child with that ‘parent love,’ which I know I can’t yet fully grasp. I picture parents who, although their children are quite faulted, see only how good-looking, talented, and wonderful they are. These parents are able, and sometimes even unable not to, see past all their children’s faults and struggles because their love is so deep. But on an even deeper level than this ‘parent love,’ God’s love, through the blood of Jesus, washes away all of that ‘mud’ from His children completely… so much so that He doesn’t even see it covering His lotus flowers. Yes, He lets us go through murky, muddy water at times… but that is only because He loves us and wants His best for us. We may not understand why we have to be at the bottom of the pond, but He always does. So regardless of where we are in the pond—bottom, middle, or top—we are still lotus flowers… and He has created us to be beauty amidst ashes, light in the darkness, spectacular flowers inside a muddy pond. :)

The last part of the lotus flower that Nancy explained to me is the leaves. She said that the round shape of the leaves is supposed to represent family and togetherness. These leaves also have medicinal value that can be compared to the healing nature that being with family can bring. My time in China has really shown me how critical this analogy of the leaves is in my life. This year was the first time I was really away from family—my physical family, as well as the family of believers—and this sort of isolation, although I was always surrounded by people, was incredibly hard for me. God reminded me that, although He is ultimately enough to meet all of our needs, He has also created us to live life together as brothers and sisters in Christ—and to really need this support from each other.  

So basically, I—at 25 years old—have finally decided upon my favorite flower. I love the striking metaphor of the lotus flower and am so grateful for the life-changing reminders it brings. No matter how muddy the water is and the flower feels… He still sees, and is carrying up, up, and up… His beautiful lotus flower.