I’m still in The Chronicles of Narnia with Lucy, her sister, Susan, and her brothers, Peter and Edmund. In the first book of the series, Lucy walks into a large, free-standing wardrobe and discovers the magical world of Narnia. But in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Lucy isn’t the only Pevensie child who encounters Narnia. Edmund, the youngest brother, does too—but his story is very different.
While Lucy meets a friendly faun, Edmund meets the “White Witch,” the face of evil in the series. She may be dressed in white, but there’s nothing good about her! She quickly discovers Edmund’s weaknesses: a craving for power and a fondness for Turkish Delight (a version of divinity fudge, I think, which my mom used to make … sigh). With a little flattery and a box of enchanted candy, she convinces Edmund to betray his brother and sisters.
It’s not Edmund’s finest moment.
And that’s part of why his story matters so much. Edmund doesn’t simply make a mistake; he chooses to benefit himself and betray others. And once the truth comes out, the weight of it settles heavily. There’s shame. Regret. The realization that things can’t easily go back to the way they were.
Many of us know those feelings.
The remarkable part of the story is what happens next. Edmund’s betrayal carries a cost. According to the “rules” of Narnia, treachery belongs to the White Witch. A traitor’s life is hers by right. Edmund belongs to her … forever.
And, suddenly, we’re introduced to a new character. A majestic lion, Aslan, intervenes.
Aslan (think Jesus) offers himself in Edmund’s place. The penalty doesn’t disappear—it is absorbed. Grace doesn’t pretend the betrayal never happened; it pays the price to redeem it.
The echoes of the Gospel are deafening. This is C.S. Lewis, the theologian, giving us the themes of grace and redemption in books written for children.
Scripture reminds us, “God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8).
Notice the timing: while we were still sinners. Not after we sorted ourselves out. Not after we proved our loyalty. Grace shows up in the middle of our worst moments.
Lent invites us to face the Edmund-like parts of our own lives—the moments when we chose poorly, spoke harshly, acted selfishly, or turned away when we knew better. But it doesn’t leave us there.
Because the heart of the Christian story is this: betrayal is real, but grace is greater.
And as we will discover as the series continues, in the mysterious economy of God’s love, even betrayers can be changed and become part of the story again.
Prayer: Jesus, you know the places in my life where I’ve fallen short.
You know where I carry regret or shame. Remind me again of your grace. Thank you for the forgiveness that cost you everything
and for the mercy that always welcomes me back. Amen.
