Skip to main content

Aslan

I remember hearing once about a boy whose mother wrote a letter for him to C.S. Lewis, author of the children's series The Chronicles of Narnia, an allegory of the human struggle against sin and evil and the victory of Christ over them. The Christ figure is Aslan, who sacrifices himself to save one of the children, and then rises from the dead. In the letter, the mother explained that the nine year-old boy-- Laurence Krieg-- felt shame that he loved Aslan more than he loved Jesus. The boy feared he was worshiping idols.

Lewis responded quickly that Laurence "can't really love Aslan more than Jesus even if he feels that's what he's doing. For the things he loves Aslan for doing or saying are simply the things Jesus really did and said. So that when Laurence thinks he is loving Aslan, he is really loving Jesus: and perhaps loving him more than he ever did before."*

There are some Christians who are so afraid of God that they live as though they must earn his favor. Knowing deeply their inadequacy when compared to God's perfection, they attempt to make up for it with performance. The result is not a reduction of shame, but an increase in it. Observing the failures that inevitably come when attempting to live perfectly, they feel guilt and even begin to try harder. If so, a cycle of shame and effort ensues that ends in fatigue and failure.

We can learn this from a young age. I remember doing something wrong at school when I was a boy. I do not remember what it was, but I do recall distinctly the thought I had afterward. I told myself that I would never sin again. This was naive, of course, but it represented a way of looking at myself and God that does not fit with God's message of grace. I was telling myself that I would repair the damage I had done instead of resting in the comfort of Jesus saving me.

If we began to look at Jesus as the boy looked at Aslan, however, we would trust him enough to put aside this need to compensate for our failures, and find in the resulting peace that God really did come to save us. Of course, we will never experience enduring and real peace until we are with God in heaven or after his return, but we can find a part of it here. I certainly have not learned the lesson of grace completely, and revert back at times to the boy who would force himself to be perfect. Still, I find that when I think of Jesus today, he looks a lot more like Aslan than he ever did before.

*"What if I love Aslan More than Jesus? Lewis Answers an American Child's Distress." Response. Seattle Pacific University. Winter 2006. Vol. 29. No. 1. Web. 30 July 2014.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Heroes

Although we have several examples of heroes in our day, one of the best known is of a woman named Agnes Gonxhe Bojaxhiu (“Gonja Bojaju”), who devoted her life to sustaining the “poor, sick, orphaned, and dying.” Her venue was Calcutta, India, where she served as a teacher until she began to take notice of the poverty there. Seeking to do something about it, she began an organization that consisted of just thirteen members at its inception. Called the “Missionaries of Charity,” the organization would eventually burgeon into well over 5,000 members worldwide, running approximately 600 missions, schools and shelters in 120 countries; and caring for the orphaned, blind, aged, disabled, and poor. As her personal work expanded, she traveled to countries like Lebanon, where she rescued 37 children from a hospital by pressing for peace between Israel and Palestine; to Ethiopia, where she traveled to help the hungry; to Chernobyl, Russia, to assist victims of the nuclear meltdown there; and to ...

The Nice Guy Fallacy

I read part of a poem recently by one of my favorite poets. It reads: I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage The linnet born within the cage That never knew the summer woods. I envy not the beast that takes His license in the field of time Unfetter'd by the sense of crime To whom a conscience never wakes. Nor what may call itself as bles't The heart that never plighted troth But stagnates in the weeds of sloth Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate'er befall I feel it, when I sorrow most 'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all. At base, Tennyson contrasted a life of risk, and consequent pain, with one of security. He sides conclusively with the life of risk, and says he fails to envy those who have faced no hardship. I agree with him; and, for good or ill, his words are just as relevant today as they were in the nineteenth century. Like then, there are those today who choose to live their lives with as little risk as...

Comparative Medical Care

One thing I'd like to understand is why there is such a difference between medical costs here and those in Haiti. At the time the book Mountains Beyond Mountains was written, in 2003, it often cost $15,000 to $20,000 annually to treat a patient with tuberculosis, while it cost one one-hundredth of that-- $150 to $200-- to treat a patient for the disease in Haiti. Even if the figures aren't completely accurate, the sheer difference would still be there. Indeed, the United States pays more per capita for medical care than any other country on Earth. My first guess for why the disparity exists is that there is a market willing and able to pay more for medical treatment, so suppliers see the demand and respond with higher prices. According to at least one doctor (go to http://scienceblogs.com/denialism/2009/05/what_is_the_cause_of_excess_co.php), part of the reason is administrative prices here. People here have a higher standard of living, and so the cost of care is shifted to ...