The reading lesson

For the last week or so my little boy and I have been reading The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. A few nights ago we snuggled up to read another chapter, and within a few minutes we got to the part where the children arrive at the Beavers’ house.
Mr. Beaver explains to the children that Aslan the lion is going to meet them the next day, and Lucy – who’s a little frightened by what may lie ahead – asks Mr. Beaver if Aslan is “safe.”
Mr. Beaver’s response just kills me:
“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver…”Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”
When I was growing up I thought that most of the Christians I knew led pretty charmed lives. And while I didn’t think that faith offered an exemption from life’s problems, I very much believed that the Christian life was a safe one. I mean, what could be so difficult about going to church, reading your Bible, saying your prayers and making the occasional casserole for Family Night Supper? From my very immature perspective, it all looked so, well, easy.
That incorrect belief that the Christian life was supposed to be easy was part of the reason why I pretty much disengaged from my faith in my early 20s. I still knew how to play the game, of course – and I could still say all the right things – but I had no idea how to reconcile my personal pit-o-sin with my deeply flawed assumption that life with Jesus was supposed to be carefree. We could spend the next year breaking down all of the gaps in my theology, but the bottom line is that somewhere along the way I missed the memo that while the leap into faith might sometimes feel pretty simple, the whole concept of faithfulness is hard. Oh sweet mercy. Is it ever.
The difficulty of faithfulness comes to mind when I hear the lyrics from “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing”: “Prone to wander / Lord I feel it / Prone to leave the God I love.” THAT IS NO JOKE, PEOPLE. And when I walked away from the Lord in my early 20s, I thought to a certain degree that it was His fault. Clearly there was some deficiency on His part. Some inconsistency in His character. Some obvious lack of power on His end of things. Because after all, IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE EASY.
When I was about 27 I finally reached a point where I realized that if left to my own devices and my own stinkin’ sinful heart, I was going to make a complete mess of my life. As Beth Moore has said before, I wasn’t just going to stay in my pit – I was going to hang up some curtains and buy some new furniture for it. If something didn’t change, I was going to be living down there indefinitely.
And do you know what?
The last thirteen years of walking with the Lord have been absolutely wild. God has led me into and through some unexpected situations – some of them filled with fun and wonder, some of them filled with difficulty and pain. I have been humbled over and over again. I feel like I’ve been on an adventure with God, and together we’ve been to places – literally and figuratively – that I would have never dreamed of when I was that wide-eyed little girl sitting in the church where I grew up. He has shown me over and over again that when Paul sat down and wrote Ephesians 3:20, he knew exactly what he was talking about.
More than anything else, I’ve learned that my joy has absolutely nothing to do with my comfort, my happiness or my circumstances. God often calls us to uncomfortable places that feel anything but safe so that we’re not tempted for one second to think that we can do what He’s asking us to do in our own strength, in our own power or according to our own plan. His ways are just flat-out higher. His ways are so much better.
And my very limited notion of what feels “safe” really isn’t His concern.
So as I read Lucy’s words in C.S. Lewis’ book the other night, I felt tears well up in my eyes as I stammered my way through Mr. Beaver’s reply. Because I can tell you without hesitation that I know firsthand how true his words are.
‘Course he isn’t safe.
But he’s good.
He’s the King, I tell you.