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Good Morning

I can’t remember what age I was when I first read The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, but I was young enough to be enthralled by the magic of it:  a hidden, frozen world; a land of speaking animals; the scene of the battle between good and evil. 

I’m old enough still to be thrilled. It’s in middle age that the smells and sensations of childhood come surging back.  That memory of being small and climbing into your parents’ wardrobe to play hide and seek; the touch and smell of a rough coat against your cheek, the rustle of a dress, and the discomfort of trying to sit quietly on a pile of shoes.  The moment in the book when Edmund pushes through the clothes and stumbles into another world of biting cold and crunching snow, still makes the back of my neck prickle.

This is the time of year when the book returns to me.  When the earth is tilting away from the sun, and in the evenings a chalky moon rises over leafless trees.  Frosts creep in and the air crackles with cold, and the season of Advent is upon us. I hear in my head those words of the book:  Aslan is coming.

I don’t remember when I began to pay attention to the Christian theology woven into the book, but I was captured by the pure story of it: the story of a deeper, more ancient magic which, even when it appeared weak, was far stronger than the witch.  And carries us through unavoidable suffering and sadness, into blinding light and joy.

As we wait for your coming, Lord, may the creativity of story-telling be a spark to strengthen hope and renew faith.  Amen