Good morning, and welcome to a new week! I hope everyone is now acclimated to the hour time change (I am, but Tori is not). After church yesterday. I went out for a leisurely lunch and began re-reading “The Chronicles of Narnia” by C.S. Lewis. They’re children’s fantasy books, at least on the surface, but Lewis was both a professor and a theologian, so it’s not surprising that the books have deeper levels.
In the first book, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, four siblings are sent to the rural English countryside to avoid the bombing in WWII London. One day, while bored and exploring the house, Lucy, the youngest girl, finds a wardrobe leading to the magical land of Narnia. Lucy is the first to step through the wardrobe and into Narnia.
Lucy isn’t the oldest of the children. She isn’t the most logical. She isn’t the most articulate. In fact, when she returns and tells the others what she has seen—snow-covered forests and a talking faun with an umbrella—they don’t believe her. And who could blame them?
Except Lucy knows what she has seen.
There’s something quietly beautiful about Lucy’s responses to the others. She doesn’t argue endlessly. She doesn’t try to force belief. She simply holds onto the truth she has encountered.
It’s the sort of faith Jesus once pointed to when he said, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 18:3).
Childlike faith isn’t childishness. It’s not naïve or simplistic. But it is open and trusting. It sees wonder in the world where others see reality. It sees possibilities where others see obstacles. It sees miracles all around when others insist the wardrobe is just a wardrobe.
Most of us, if we’re honest, grow out of our openness somewhere along the way. Experience teaches caution. Disappointment teaches skepticism. We learn to keep our feet firmly planted in what can be measured and explained. We’d never see a wardrobe for anything other than a dusty old wardrobe.
But the kingdom of God is a lot like Narnia. In fact, Lewis wrote it that way on purpose. God’s kingdom arrives like Narnia: quietly, unexpectedly, just beyond the door we assumed was ordinary. But when we open the door, it’s more than we could ever have imagined.
Lent is a good season to look again at familiar things and wonder if there might be more there than we first assumed. Perhaps faith sometimes begins with the courage to say, “I know it sounds strange… but I think there’s something wonderful on the other side of this door.”
Today, take a few extra minutes to look around … not for the familiar but for the unexpected. Remember what it was like to be a child and see something new. Open the door and step into the wardrobe and discover the magical world of Narnia.
Prayer: Jesus, help me be more open, trusting, and attentive to your presence. When I grow cynical or closed off to wonder, gently lead me back to you. Help me see your kingdom in places I might otherwise overlook. Amen.
