It's been awhile since my last post. An entire Lenten season, in fact. And in that time I have passed, or am passing, through that narrow road. What is it about Lent that requires so much shedding of unwanted layers?
Here it is, friends, in all its glory, in C.S. Lewis form:
Then the lion said . . . "You will have to let me undress you." I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.
The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. . . .
Well, he peeled the beastly stuff right off—just as I thought I'd done it myself the other three times, only they hadn't hurt—and there it was, lying on the grass: only ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobbly-looking than the others had been. And there was I as smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been. Then he caught hold of me—I didn’t like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I'd no skin on—and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why. I'd turned into a boy again.
Oh Edmund, why did you have to be so stupid to thirst for gold and turn yourself into a Dragon? Oh Edmund, why did you have to be the boy who took the bait who passed from death to life and back to boy again? Oh, C.S. Lewis, why are so you right on... again? I don't think I'm back to the last layer yet. In fact, I think that God is still peeling, because I am still reeling. I find I am still asking: is this really what you have for me, Lord, to lay myself down for these three beautiful children and meet their every wish and demand RIGHT NOW and make toast, and bake muffins, and clean sheets, and wipe up milk and collapse into bed every night? Really? Me? Wouldn't it be nicer if I just rolled around in some shiny gold and silver and soared through the air, uninhibited, breathing fire through my nostrils so that no one would interfere with my plans?
-- Let me decrease that He might increase.... I'll say it again.