Narnia – Salvaged Faith

Follow the Star

Posted on January 15, 2017Leave a comment

Today, we come to the end of our journey through Narnia and the Christmas season with the celebration of Epiphany.

The word Epiphany means “an appearance or manifestation” and on the twelfth day after Christmas, it is a celebration of the manifestation of God’s love in human form… and of all of those people to whom the good news was first revealed: the shepherds at Christmas, Anna and Simeon in the temple, and the wise men who followed the star and journeyed from afar to worship the Christ Child.

As Matthew tells the story, these magi followed a star in the sky – a light in the midst of the darkness – in order to find this Messiah. And that glimmer of light and hope reminded Matthew of another time of darkness and the promise of God that Isaiah shared with the Israelites.

Arise! Shine! For your light has come… though darkness covers the earth and gloom the nations, the Lord will shine upon you… Nations will come to your light and kings to your dawning radiance. (60:1-3)

In Matthew’s eyes, it wasn’t a star in the sky at all, but the light of Christ himself, revealed to the entire world, that pulled those magi over mountains and deserts and seas to the countryside surrounding Jerusalem. He may have been a tiny infant in his mother’s arms, but in the words of John’s gospel – the light shone in the darkness and the darkness could not overcome it.

To appreciate why this was good news, we can’t pass too quickly over the darkness in these stories. We like to focus on the beautiful image of wise and powerful men bowed down before a humble and poor baby. But in our scripture today, forces of death and violence, power and pride and lurking around every corner.

You see, in between the appearance of the star in the sky and their encounter with the Jesus, the magi found themselves on the doorsteps of power.

King Herod was an appointed ruler who had been chosen from among his fellow Jews because he was willing to betray them and serve the Romans. His had been named a leader by the Roman Mark Antony to support the governor of Galilee, but through political maneuvering and not a little bit of money, scheming and treachery, he had climbed as high as he could – and now happily sat in Jerusalem as the “king of the mountain.”

Relationships for him were always about what the connection could get for him. He banished his first wife and child in order to marry the granddaughter of an elite in Rome. And he grew to be jealous of his second wife Mariamne, eventually executing her for adultery; he eventually married five different times. He killed his brother-in-law on charges of conspiracy, and then later his sons by Mariamne because he no longer trusted them.

In the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the White Witch reminds me of that cold, insecure figure Herod.

As Heidi Haverkamp reminds in the devotional for this season, the Witch’s castle was cold and full of statues of people the witch had turned to stone. The only living creature besides the White Witch who resided there was her Wolf Captain Maugrim. She couldn’t trust anyone and so her castle was empty and lonely.

And she, too, feared a threat to her power and hold over the land.

There had been prophecies in Narnia, after all about the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve and how one day they would sit on the throne of Cair Paravel. When she came upon Edmund, all alone in the woods one day, she very nearly turned him into stone on the spot… until she realized she could use him for more information and to tempt the rest of his siblings to her castle and kill them all at once.

She arrested and tried the faun, Mr. for “fraternizing with Humans,” just as she did any who sought to oppose her reign.

The White Witch responded to the news of these children who would be Kings and Queens in the same way that Herod did… with intrigue, lies, and a heart bent on destruction.

What is the danger of a baby? Or of four little children to a powerful king or queen?

The danger is in what they represent and the threat to the future.

And the danger is that there are people in this world who are willing to resist their oppression and power… people who are willing to follow a star and choose another way.

The magi from the East arrive in Jerusalem… and instead of bowing down before King Herod, they want to worship, to bow down, to pay homage to someone else.

And this season invites us to honor God and not the powers of this world. To honor love and not fear. Mercy not judgment. This season invites us to let go of our power and offer of ourselves, rather than taking what we think belongs to us.

Isaiah’s prophecy calls out: Arise! Shine! Lift up your Eyes!

That is a whole lot of exclamation points.

And Isaiah isn’t just inviting the people living in exile to hear the words… he is commanding them to live differently.

As Rev. Marci Glass writes:

“Isaiah’s audience knew all about the darkness of the world. They knew the despair of exile. They knew what it was like to look around and say, ‘ the problems are so big. What can one person do?’

The Christmas season is a time of joy and hope and peace, and I truly pray that each and every one of you were able to glimpse that spirit of Christmas in these last few weeks.

But just as the Christmas decorations begin to be put away, the cold harsh reality of the world hits us. We find ourselves right back where we were before this season of consumer frenzy, perhaps with emptier pockets and fuller bellies, but back in reality nonetheless.

And maybe we start to ask that question: what can one person do?

In the wake of yet another mass shooting in our country this week in Fort Lauterdale, what can we do to stop it?

In the face of loved ones battling illness and injury, how can we make the pain go away?

Perhaps we are left wondering what all of it was really for. Are we just rehearsing the Spirit of Christmas, much like we get out the decorations and put them away again when the time has passed? Is our hope in the pomp and circumstance? the beautifully wrapped presents? the music? or is our hope in something else? Something that will sustain us long after the wreaths have come off the door?

Arise! Shine! Lift Up Your Eyes!

The magi in the East recognized that this star was leading them on a journey into the unknown. And they willingly chose to follow that star.

This epiphany, I want to invite you to follow the star.

I want to invite you to seek out light in the midst of darkness, hope in the midst of despair.

And I want to invite you to share the light of that star with others.

And just like the magi, I want to invite you to not only be willing to offer your gifts with God… but I want to invite you to be open to what God might be giving to you in this journey.

As we come forward in just a few minutes for our time of response and offering, I want to invite you to come to this basket and select a star. Don’t over think it… just reach in and take one.

Every star has a word on it. And I want to invite you to think about how that word, that star, might speak to your life this year.

Stick the star to your refrigerator or bathroom mirror. Put it in your devotional for when you do daily prayers. Place that star somewhere you might see it each and every day so that you can remember, whenever you lift up your eyes, that God is guiding you.

I want to invite you to remember that what you do with the light that has shined in your life does matter.

The creatures of Narnia embraced the small role they could play and they stood up to the power of the White Witch and she was defeated.

Even Edmund, who had turned his back on those he loved, found that one simple action could dramatically alter the course of events.

The magi from the east refused to bow to the demands of Herod and chose another way home.

God is calling you to Arise! Shine! And Lift up your eyes to see can do through you.

Ever-patient God, Help us be people of the light, shining your light of righteousness, peace, and joy into all the dark places of our lives and world.

Turn our aimless wanderings into a journey of purpose guided by your star.
Let the light break into our lives and our world, and transform us into people of the light.

Arise!

Shine!
Follow the star!

God Prepares a Feast

Posted on January 1, 2017Leave a comment

How many of you ate too much this holiday season?

How many of you ate just enough?

You know, the thing about family gatherings, celebrations, and joyous events is that they are feast times in our lives.

We gather around tables.

We break bread.

We share stories.

And we experience life to its fullest.

As the prophet, Isaiah, envisions the day of salvation, he writes about “a feast of rich food, a feast of well-matured wines, of rich food with marrow, of well-matured wines strained clear.” (Isaiah 25:6)

There will be joy on that morning.

There will be celebration on that day.

And the table will be full.

Now, this would have been a powerful image of hope in the midst of Isaiah’s day. Israel had been torn apart and God’s people had suffered violence and oppression. There is nothing left.

Heidi Haverkamp invites us to imagine refugees from a modern war finding a heavy banquet table in the middle of nowhere… an oasis in the midst of the desert of struggle and pain and fear.

The people and creatures of Narnia have known such struggle. They are survivors of a time of oppression and violence and loss.

But in the midst of their fear and anxiety, they also hung on to hope.

The Pevensie children, Edmund, Susan, Peter, and Lucy, are welcomed into the home of the Beavers who set out a feast of fish and potatoes, sticky marmalade rolls, bread and butter. They filled their bellies with food and their hearts with hope.

And then, Father Christmas arrived.

If you were with us last week, we talked about how the cold winter of the White Witch’s power was so strong that it was always winter and never Christmas.

But the world began to thaw.

The seasons began to turn with the promise that Aslan was near.

And Father Christmas came as a symbol of hope, that the winter would soon end, that a new day was coming.

And when he came across a group of Narnians in the woods, Father Christmas set out a feast of plum pudding and wine, delicious food, and decorations.

It was a scene right out of Isaiah.

The day of salvation was near.

And yet.

And yet, that day of salvation is still oh, so, far away.

As those grateful people of Narnia sat to enjoy their meal with laughter and merriment, the White Witch comes along and turns their joy into silence. She turns them into stone.

The promise has not yet been fulfilled.

As Haverkamp writes in her reflections for this season, “A special family meal isn’t a promise that nothing will every go wrong again. The people of Isaiah’s time would be torn apart by war and sent away into exile. In Narnia, the Christmas supper party would be turned to stone. But the people of Israel knew that God was with them, no matter what, and that God’s promises to them were eternal.”

Every time we gather around this table, we feast, too.

We feast on bread and wine.

We remember stories and laugh and cry.

We are re-connected by these offerings of live giving sustenance.

And we know that this meal is only a foretaste of the heavenly banquet.

One of most holy moments for me every Christmas Eve is to gather around this table and around the manger and break bread together.

In this one moment, the whole story of our faith is present.

Christ was born. Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.

While it might seem morbid to remember on that night that the child born in the manger was born to die, for me it is a reminder of just how fully God entered our human existence.

God took on our flesh and came into our lives in one of the most vulnerable ways one could imagine.

This child cried and was utterly dependent upon the milk from his mother and the care and protection from his earthly father. He learned to walk and scraped his knees. And every step of the way, as he grew into a man, he reached out and connected with the least, the last, and the lost…. And the rich and powerful.

Our God fully took on our flesh and reached out to welcome children and talked with women and taught men what it meant to truly be the people of God.

He was praised and he was ridiculed. He wept. He was angry. God became one of us.

And then our God died for us.

In the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, there is a moment when all hope appears lost. In order to save the life of one of the Pevensie children, Edmund, the one who betrayed the rest of his siblings, Aslan gives up his own life to the White Witch.

He willing hands himself over to her in a scene that brings to my mind memories of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane.

And he is killed.

The two girls, Lucy and Susan, weep over his body… like the women who went to the tomb early on Easter morning.

And as they walk to catch a glimpse of sunrise, they hear a loud crack. The stone on which Aslan had been killed cracked in two. He rose and stood behind them triumphant.

And then, Aslan shared that resurrected life with the creatures of Narnia. He flew to all those who had been turned to stone and breathed upon them, setting them free from the curse of the White Witch.

Today, we remember that in the very beginning our God breathed into us the breath of life.

We remember that our God took on human flesh and lived among us.

We remember that our God in Christ freely gave up his life so that we might have life and life abundant.

And today, we remember … every time we eat this bread and drink this cup, the promise of salvation.

Rev. Mindi Welton-Mitchell wrote in her reflection upon the Isaiah passage that the “prophet’s message of hope [is]for the day when God invites everyone to the banquet table, and death’s power is destroyed forever. The veil will be torn away and God will end our mourning by wiping away our tears. This is the God we have waited for. This is the moment we have waited for. This is the invitation we have waited for.”

This is the invitation we have waited for.

Come.

God has prepared a feast.

Winter is Over!

Posted on December 25, 2016Leave a comment

Before our Christmas traditions took hold, there were other festivals in the northern hemisphere among folks who were tucked in for winter. The crops had been harvested and stored, the work was done, and they celebrated… But in one of the pieces I read this advent from a writer named Gayle Boss, I was a reminded about a truth in those celebrations: “No matter how glad the party, they couldn’t keep from glancing at the sky… Each day throughout the fall they watched the light dwindle, felt the warmth weaken. It made them anxious, edgy… When they had eaten up the crop they were fasting on, how would another crop grow? Throughout December, as the sun sank and sank to its lowest point on their horizon, they felt the shadow of primal fear – fear for survival – crouching over them.”

I don’t know if there are any Game of Thrones fans here this morning, but one of the mottos of one of these houses is “Winter is Coming.”

It is a reminder that dark and difficult times are ahead. It is an echo of that primal fear of a long winter. It is the sentiment that says nothing good happens after midnight.

It is the dread that overcame the people of Narnia as the White Witch took over power. Her cold power overwhelmed the land and even her touch would turn people to ice and stone.

The land of Narnia came to be known as the place where it was always winter, but never Christmas.

And in that place, hope can be hard to find. Anxiety grows. Fears are plenty.

The people of Narnia thought that winter might last forever. Many thought they would never see Christmas.

And yet some clung to the promises, the hopes, the prophecies to sustain them through the long, dark, cold nights.

Folks like Mr. and Mrs. Beaver waited, they longed, they believed that Aslan would return to Narnia and that four children would sit on the throne and bring a reign of peace.

What I love about the “Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” is that there are glimpses of the end of the witches power… the end of winter… long before Aslan ever appears in the story.

The hospitality of even enemies like Mr. Tumnus.

The snow begins to thaw.

Flowers start to bloom.

Father Christmas shows up to equip the children with the tools they will need in the upcoming battle.

Aslan is near and winter is already disappearing.

A few days ago, the season of winter technically began in our part of the world. The winter solstice marks the turning of the seasons and on that longest night, that darkest day, winter began.

And you know, it was in the dark… At about midnight last night… or this morning… whichever you want to call it, that our Christmas Eve service wrapped up.

And in the darkness, in the quiet stillness, in the bleak midwinter, something amazing happened.

We welcomed Jesus into our lives.

We proclaimed Hallelujah and celebrated the good news of Jesus birth.

In that hour and season that represents the height of our fears, where nothing good is supposed to happen.

My colleague Melissa Meyers wrote last night about that phrase, but then she went on to list all sorts of blessings of midnight:

“Midnight is pregnant with possibilities… just waiting to be birthed…

Midnight gives you a chance to start over …

Midnight gives you an opportunity to forgive that person who has wronged you…

Midnight gives you the opportunity to ask for forgiveness…

Midnight gives you the possibility of something new…

Midnight is not the darkness, but a reminder that the dark doesn’t last forever”

Midnight is not the darkness, but a reminder that the dark doesn’t last forever.

And it’s not only midnight… it is right now, in this cold, dark, time when everything else is stripped away and seems lost and full of fear that we actual glimpse the most profound sign of hope .

That longest night of the year… this season of cold and reflection and barren earth… it is not the darkness either, but a reminder that the dark will not last forever.

It is in that amazing moment when all seems the darkest, the coldest, the loneliest, that God creeps into our lives, our world, our hearts.

The beginning of the winter season is actually the moment when the light begins to return to the sky.

It is the moment the days grow longer.

Gayle Boss reflects upon this, she notes that “to their and our abiding fear of a dark ending, the Church spoke of an advents: a coming. Faith proclaimed, When life as we know it goes, this year and at the end of all years, One comes, and comes bringing a new beginning.”

Every midnight is a new beginning.

Every year end is a new beginning.

Every time winter begins with the solstice and the longest night, the reality is that the days are already growing longer.

Winter is not coming.

Winter is already over.

The power of cold and death and barrenness cannot remain.

The White Witch is defeated before the battle has even begun in the land of Narnia.

Heidi Haverkamp writes in the reflections we have been reading this Advent and Christmas season that the power of the White Witch was “foiled by the faith and perseverance of a group of otherwise small and humble creatures who have been surviving under her tyranny… Their watching and waiting have prepared the way for Aslan’s coming.”

Today, we proclaim that God has come near.

We celebrate that the Christ Child has entered our human lives to wipe away the despair and fear, the hatred and sin.

But like those people of Narnia… although we know that winter is already over… although we know that in God’s time the powers of this world have already been defeated… still the final battle has yet to be fought.

We wait… still.

We hope… still.

We long… still.

Waiting for the final victory of Jesus. Waiting for the second coming of our Lord.

And living every single day as if the powers of this world cannot hold our hearts.

As Melissa Meyers wrote in the wee hours of the night:

“Midnight is not the end of the story, but only the beginning…

Midnight invites you into the story of resistance, subversion, radical inclusion, and peace…

Midnight brings us a thrill of hope as the weary world rejoices…

Midnight births a King of Kings that changes the world in ways that we continue to discover…

Midnight brings to us the King of Kings, Lord of Lords, Prince of Peace, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Emmanuel… “

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve

Posted on December 4, 2016Leave a comment

In the beginning…

Most years when we get to the season of Advent, we dive deep into the gospel texts. We want to hear about the shepherds and angels, about Mary and Joseph, Elizabeth and Zechariah, the magi and the star.

Yet, as Heidi Haverkamp will share with us in this week’s reflections in her book “Advent in Narnia”, the medieval church also focused on Adam and Eve.

They went all the way back to the beginning to remember who we are and why God needed to come to redeem us. December 24^th was the feast day of Adam and Eve… a time to rehearse once again the story of the creation and the fall.

And that tradition continued in the seasonal Lessons and Carols of Kings College… which will be presented next Sunday at Simpson College. There, too, the story of love and light begins where it should… in the beginning.

In the first chapters of the book of Genesis, we find out who we are. We were created by God. We were created for relationship and to care for this world. And having been given the world, we want more, we desire more, we test our boundaries and more often than not… we cross them.

This is the human condition. It is our story.

And so maybe it is not so surprising that when the Pevensie children stumble into Narnia and the magical creatures of the land discover these humans, they are called the “Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve”.

They, and we, are full of goodness and knowledge and love.

Last week, we met Lucy, the youngest child whose heart is full of longing and hope. Her love was so strong that it cut through the fear of Mr. Tumnus and helped to transform his life.

The prophecies of Narnia talk about how these four children will bring hope to the land and break the power of the White Witch…

But they, and we, are also full of temptation, mistakes, and sin.

The next child who makes his way into the wardrobe has a much different experience.

Edmund is the next youngest and he often feels left out and unappreciated. He is jealous and hurt and when he finds himself in Narnia the first to cross his path is the White Witch.

We find in their encounter a parallel to our story in Genesis chapter 3 this morning.

First, there is this figure that is on the edges of our main characters story… a figure that at first seems completely neutral.

On the one hand, we have the serpent, the craftiest and most intelligent of all the creatures who strikes up a conversation with Eve. The serpent asks questions, raises intrigue, and starts Eve wandering about that tree in the middle of the garden.

The White Witch is beautiful, arrives on a sleigh and plies Edmund with warm beverages and questions. She invites him up onto her sleigh and tempts him with his favorite treat: Turkish Delight.

Both are lured in by what is pleasing to the eye and good to eat…

But even more than that, they are both lured by the possibility of what might away it they say yes.

Eve is told by the serpent that she will not die as she supposes, but she will become like God – knowing good and evil. All of creation is at her fingertips, and yet she longs for the one thing that has not been given to her. She is not satisfied with the blessings that surround her.

Edmund is likewise tempted by power… and a life apart from his siblings. “It is a lovely place, my house,” said the Queen. “I’m sure you would like it. There are whole rooms of Turkish Delight…. I want a nice boy whom I could bring up as a Prince and who would be King of Narnia when I’m gone.” As the youngest son, he glimpses in this offer approval and power, love and prestige… to finally have the chance to lord it over his brothers and sisters.

Overcome by the temptation, he agrees to lure his siblings to the palace.

And like Adam and Eve, as soon as Edmund is away from the witch and realizes what he has done, he begins to be filled with shame.

He encounters Lucy in the woods, who tells him the truth about the White Witch and he begins to feel sick to his stomach… That, and he ate too much Turkish Delight.

As we continue our story over the coming weeks, we will experience Edmund’s journey. He will make more mistakes.

Like any good Christmas movie, there has to be a bad guy… a Scrooge, a spinster, a grouch…

But eventually Edmund will experience mercy and forgiveness, life and love. The delight of a Hallmark Christmas move is to watch that characters life turn around. Scrooge finds his generosity. The Grinch’s heart grows. A prodigal son returns home.

We are the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve. We have an infinite capacity for good and for evil residing in our souls.

Maybe that is why some of our most popular Christmas songs ask us to reflect upon the state of our souls.

“He’s making a list and checking it twice, Gonna find out whose naughty and nice….

He sees you when you’re sleepin’ He knows when you’re awake.

He knows if you’ve been bad or good… so be good for goodness sake.”

The truth is, we are both.

We are simultaneously sinners and saints.

Our lives are full of mistakes and missteps, but also acts of kindness and generosity.

We are tempted by the glitz and glam and our comfort zones, but occasionally find our way out to be in real relationship with people who are struggling.

The reality of our souls is not as simple as making a list of who is good and who is bad.

And the good news is that while we were yet sinners… while we were still weak… while we are this complicated jumble of goodness and evil… God entered our lives to redeem all of the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve

As we sing in “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” we yearn for the Christ Child to be born in our midst to cast out the sin of our lives. We yearn for new life, for joy, for an end to the tears and the loneliness and the pain.

This season is about transformation and embracing what is good and holy and pure… letting go of the past that has haunted us.

God has come to offer us mercy and forgiveness and life abundant.

Thanks be to God.

Livin’ on the Edge

Posted on November 27, 2016Leave a comment

This morning, we are hanging out in liminal space…

That’s a funny word isn’t it… liminal….

Say it with me… liminal.

It comes from Latin and means “threshold.” It is the space in between. It is transitional.

Our country is in that liminal space between an election and the swearing in of a new president.

The United Methodist Church is in a liminal space – knowing that we can’t be what we were and aren’t yet sure what we might become.

Many of us are in personal liminal spaces… a time of discomfort, of waiting, of transformation. We are experiencing transitions in relationship statuses, or maturing from childhood to adulthood. We are waiting for test results that might forever change our world or experiencing losses that already have.

The theologian Richard Rohr describes liminality this way:

It is when you have left the tried and true, but have not yet been able to replace it with anything else. It is when you are between your old comfort zone and any possible new answer.

Or, if you’d prefer the theologians Aerosmith:

There’s something wrong with the world today

I don’t know what it is Something’s wrong with our eyes

We’re seeing things in a different way

And god knows it ain’t his

It sure ain’t no surprise

Livin’ on the edge

Every single one of us is dealing with something in our personal lives that looms large on the edges. Job insecurity. Financial woes. Racism. Personal loss. Illness. Depression. Sexism. Addiction. Work or School stress. Bullying.

Whatever it might be for you… It’s there on the edges.

We don’t talk about it… but it’s there.

And it was there for Edmund, Peter, Lucy, and Susan in the Chronicles of Narnia.

As we enter this Advent and then Christmas season and beyond, we are going to be following these four children in this magical land and hear what the author C.S. Lewis has to teach us about what it means to be people of faith in tough times.

And the story starts with this magical threshold… this doorway between two worlds that the littlest girl Lucy discovers.

We focus on the magic of that doorway… but what we sometimes overlook is the difficulty that brought all of the characters to this place in this time.

These children are in a liminal space.

The story is set during the middle of the London Blitz of World War II. Their home in the city was no longer safe. Like children in Aleppo, in Syria, today, every day they lived in terror that a bomb would drop on top of their home or school or the hospitals.

Yet these children were able to make it out of the city. They were sent away to the countryside, sent away from their parents, into a big lonely house.

Everything they knew was in turmoil… and they didn’t yet know what might happen on the other side of the war.

This summer, as we preached through the prophets, we heard the passage we shared this morning from Isaiah. About the people who lived in the land of deep darkness.

Those who lived in the lands of Zebulun and Naphtali knew what it meant to live through wars and conflict. Their tribal home had been ravaged for so long that they didn’t know what hope was anymore.

There’s something wrong with the world today

The lightbulb’s gettin’ dimmed

There’s meltdown in the sky

If you can judge a wise man

By the color of his skin

Then mister, you’re a better man than I

Livin’ on the edge

Right there… on the edge… where hope had ceased and the shadows seemed longer and longer, light was promised.

Those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined.

And so in the midst of this liminal season of her life, Lucy hides in a closet and discovers a magical doorway between worlds.

She finds herself in a forest, surrounded by snow, and she sees a light shining in the distance.

It is a lamppost.

A light shining on the edge.

“It is a beacon in the face of the dark, cold spell that lies on the land,” writes the author of our devotion Advent in Narnia.

Both lands. All lands.

London and Narnia. Syria and Israel. The United States. The World.

The lamppost, which stands there at the boundary between Narnia and the “wild woods of the west” remains shining in the darkness. The power of the white witch who has taken over Narnia… the darkness of despair, sin, and death which threatens to overtake our lives… it cannot put that light out. It shines. Always has… always will.

As we will hear read on Christmas Eve, the gospel of John reminds us that the light shines in the darkness and the darkness could not overcome it.

And we hear… that the people loved the darkness more than the light.

As the Message puts it… the light entered the world “and yet the world didn’t even notice. He came to his own people and they didn’t want him.”

In the midst of our story of light, we are reminded that that we are human.

It is so often our sin that is the cause of the world’s darkness.

Hatred and greed. Nationalism and pride. Consumer impulses that fail to recognize the cost to others and this planet.

That is why we are reminded in the gospel of Luke that the door is narrow and few will enter it.

Mr. Tumnus is the perfect example of this reality. He is working for the witch, even though he knows it is wrong because he is too afraid to do otherwise.

We are too struck by the darkness.

We are too consumed with ourselves.

Something right with the world today

And everybody knows it’s wrong

But we can tell ’em no

Or we could let it go

But I would rather be a hanging on

Livin’ on the edge

My colleague Dan Dick has some challenging words for people of faith right now. He writes as Advent begins:

Do we need a Savior? Do we need a Messiah? Yes, oh yes, but we really don’t want one – not if he/she is going to expect us to live up to our confession of faith. If we have to honor the promises made for us at baptism and the promises we have made ourselves since then, well…, we will take a pass on the Messiah, thank you very much… we really can’t afford/tolerate the Son of God coming to mess things up. (https://doroteos2.com/2016/11/26/wanted-savior-some-experience-required/)

We have a chance to say goodbye to the darkness and let go of our own sin and anger, disappointment and loss, frustration and hatred and focus on the light, the hope, the love, the promises of God.

There is light and right and good in this world… if only we would open our eyes to see it, open our hearts to experience it… open our hands to live it.

There is something so right in this world today and we are too scared, fearful, consumed to believe it!

But as Jesus instructs the people in chapter 13 of Luke’s gospel – unless you change your hearts and lives… unless you repent… unless you turn away from the darkness you will never enter that narrow door.

Mr. Tumnus was out there in the liminal space… hanging out by the lamppost.

We don’t know what brought him to that moment, but what we do know is that in the story, he finds a child.

A child that offers him hope and light, love and forgiveness.

A child that gives him the courage to turn away from the shadows.

This Advent season, we have a chance to enter that narrow door.

We have a chance to enter that liminal space of transformation.

Friends, all I ask is that you open yourself to the possibility.

I ask that you step outside of your comfort zone.

I pray that you will enter and journey in Narnia with me this season.

Come live on the edge. Come experience the light. Come and wait for the coming of our savior.

It just might change your life.