Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Embracing the Adventure

Reflections on CS Lewis's The Silver Chair


I’ve been a lover of Narnia since I was ten-years-old, long before I became a Christian. The magic just grabbed me and pulled me in. After becoming a Christian in college, I revisited Narnia and discovered that it had taken on a whole new dimension, a depth that of course I had missed as a ten-year-old.
 Many Christians I know have a favorite chronicle. For my husband, it is The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. He identifies strongly with the selfish and disobliging Eustace Scrubb being “undragoned” by Aslan. Not that my husband was really ever selfish and disobliging, but he recognizes the magnitude of the work that God did to bring healing into his own life.
For me, there’s just something about The Silver Chair that resonates deeply. At its core, it is a story about the dangers of unforgiveness. The reader is brought into the search for Narnia’s heir to the throne, Prince Rilian, who has disappeared while pursuing vengeance against a serpent that killed his mother. Much could be written about the powerful message conveyed by the story of Rilian’s subsequent bondage and deliverance, but it is a different aspect of the story that first grabbed hold of me.
In my late twenties, after our second child was born, I struggled with severe postpartum depression and mysterious autoimmune issues. Fear and hopelessness became a crippling feature of my day to day struggle. During this time, I began to reread The Silver Chair, in which a kinder and wiser Eustace Scrubb returns to Narnia with a schoolmate, Jill Pole, for whom Narnia is entirely new. As I read through Eustace and Jill’s adventure, a quest to find the missing Prince Rilian, Jill’s fears felt almost too real. At one point, Jill, Eustace and their trusty travel companion Puddleglum are forced to enter a cave to escape from giants who would like to eat them for dinner. They end up sliding down a slope into utter darkness. Bruised and bloody, Jill lands at the bottom with no idea whether her companions have survived. She fears she is trapped and alone. Her despair is palpable.

The darkness was so complete that it made no difference at all whether you had your eyes open or shut. There was no noise. And that was the very worst moment Jill had ever known in her life.

Jill’s story brought me to a place that was the very depiction of my state of depression and fear. At that moment, it was so terrifyingly real that I had to stop reading. I didn’t have the courage to go on. I prayed. I begged. I asked God to lift the darkness and let me move forward.
Eventually, after discussing with my therapist the somewhat unusual panic induced by a children’s book, I was able to pick up where I left off. Jill and her companions carry on with the adventure but are now trapped in a murky underworld. Again, Jill’s narrative feels like my own. On approaching a dark, narrow cave through which she and the others must crawl, she exclaims, “I can’t go in there, I can’t! I can’t! I won’t!” But with the encouragement of the others, she makes it through.  
            Throughout the story, Jill and Eustace are repeatedly faced with situations that seem insurmountable. They have a choice. They could certainly give up on the adventure altogether, or they can trust in the one who placed the adventure before them and proceed, one step at a time, with the hope that there is a purpose to the struggle and that they will once again step into the bright spaciousness of Narnia. As  their wise companion Puddleglum reminds them when they begin to question the path they have taken, “There are no accidents. Our guide is Aslan.”
            Indeed, Aslan’s plan involves redemption and deliverance. Spoiler alert: The quest to find Prince Rilian is successful. He is found in Underland and delivered from his ten-year captivity. But for me, the real beauty of this story is that as Jill is delivered from her fears, she is used by Aslan to deliver Rilian from his bondage. She is described in the final chapters as a “conqueror,” a “deliverer,” and a “damsel of high courage.” And it is Jill who overcomes her fears to poke her head through a hole that turns out to be the exit from Underland. She is the one who ushers the party out of darkness and back into Narnia.
            After their Narnian adventure, Aslan sends Jill and Eustace back to their old school in England where they once again must face all their everyday fears, including bullies who had sent them running from school before their journey to Narnia. But Jill and Eustace are not the same children they were before. They are changed, and Aslan allows them to return to school and briefly appear as the warriors they have become, with glittering clothes and weapons, courageous and intimidating to their foes. It is a glorious glimpse of who we become when we say yes to the adventure with all its challenges, struggles and triumphs. We are never left the same.
            It took me several years to eventually step out of the darkness and discover the spacious place that God prepared for me. I can look back and see that He has indeed been my guide throughout it all. There is always more with God, and I look forward to what lies ahead. When I look at my life now, I hardly recognize the person I was before. The struggle, the darkness, it all had a purpose. I have embraced my adventure, and I can delight when God uses me to help lead others into freedom. As Galatians 5:1 tells us, “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.” When we step into freedom, we are free to live our God-given adventure. Buckle up for the ride!

            


Saturday, January 14, 2017

Beauty from Ashes

How does one write about children who live in
a garbage dump? It's not a Lemony Snicket story
or some dark dystopian tale. This is real. These
children are real. In 2017 we still live in a world
where children live in garbage dumps...in
Madagascar, in Cambodia, in the Philippines, in
Guatemala. The list goes on and on.

Today, Bruce and I went with an Iris medical team to visit children living in Antananarivo's garbage dump. We had been wanting to experience this aspect of Iris' community outreach for some time, but I can honestly say I didn't know quite what to expect. Were these children simply abandoned? Did they have parents who were too sick/disabled/drunk/lazy to work? Truly, I had no idea.



The dump itself is situated on a sort of island in the midst of the city's rice paddies. And it's not just a dump, it's actually a village with a road running through the middle. There are small, crumbling homes and some shopfronts. The people who live there comb the dump for items that can be made into handiwork -- colorful mats, baskets, even shoes. As we walked down the street, we saw many of the residents sitting in front of their homes sorting, cutting or weaving. They were literally creating beauty from ashes! These people were certainly not lazy. They were industrious and creative, but most were desperately poor and some were outcasts from the community, people who believed they belong in a garbage dump.


During the day, their children wander the dump in search of useful items. It was shocking to see them walking through heaps of burning rubbish in bare feet. Until recently, school had not been an option for any of these children. But the chief of the village is a compassionate man, so he offered two rooms of his small home to become classrooms. He could not pay for supplies or teachers, but our friends at Iris, knowing that the need for a school was great, have worked with a church in the US to sponsor this little school, which now has thirty students and two teachers. It was a joy to sit in the classroom with some of the smiling students who had their very own backpacks and notebooks.


We concluded the day by visiting the mother of one of the children involved in the Iris program. She had been suffering from severe abdominal pain for a week, and her husband was quite worried. With the Malagasy doctor who had accompanied us, we entered their tiny one room home and prayed for her. We don't know God's plan for her, but we know how much He loves her, and we know He has the power to heal. She wept as we prayed. We then took her husband to a pharmacy across from the US Embassy to get a prescription, which we hope will provide relief.


So what were my conclusions from the day? Poverty like this is hard to witness. Human beings, loved by their Heavenly Father, should never believe they belong in a dump. And yet joy was not absent. And the work that I see Iris doing here brings hope.

Before Jesus went to the cross, He said, "Very truly I tell you, whoever believes in me will do the work I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father." (John 14:12)  If we are to do what Jesus did, then we are to bring his love to those who are suffering, to those without hope. And thankfully He empowered us to do so by sending the Holy Spirit. We are to be His hands, His feet, His heart. In His love is great power -- power to heal, power to restore, power to achieve the impossible. So hope is never lost, but we must accept our calling to be messengers of hope..."to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair." (Isaiah 61:3) This is our hope!