Aslan and Fear

November 6, 2008 – 12:02 pm

If I had to narrow my favorite song down to one, that would be a difficult task. Narrowing it down to one verse, however, is a little easier.

The familiar second verse of John Newton’s “Amazing Grace” touches on a profound theme that runs through the Scriptures and portrays so clearly the way that God draws His children back to Himself:

‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear

And grace my fears relieved.

How precious did that grace appear

The hour I first believed.

As a child, it used to puzzle me why God would command people - both His children and children of the devil - to fear Him. I (and I suppose many others as well) would be more comfortable with a phrase like “respect Me” or “trust Me” or even “pay attention to Me.” While all of those response are appropriate, God nonetheless still commands that we fear Him. Part of my (our) struggle in understanding this characteristic of God is a twisted understanding of this type of fear. Our minds often relate it to concepts like intimidation, coercion, manipulation, and even a spontaneous reaction by one afraid of losing control.

My wife and I have been reading through Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia series during our “entertainment time” (whenever we can sneak some of it in). We just finished volume 3, The Horse and His Boy, and I was struck by Lewis’s development of triumph through tragedy throughout the plot. Particularly moving was the role that Aslan, the Great Lion, played in stirring the characters to action, often through troubling circumstances. What the main characters feared saved them, in the end.

For example, while Shasta - the young boy on a journey to Narnia in search of peace and identity - was unloading his “I am the unluckiest person in the world” attitude, Aslan says “tell me your sorrows” and reveals his role in helping the boy accomplish his journey. Notice the clear role that troubling circumstances played in accomplishing the journey:

…he told how he had never known his real father or mother and had been brought up sternly by the fisherman. And then he told the story of his escape and how they were chased by lions and forced to swim for their lives; and of all their dangers in Tashbaan and about his night among the tombs and how the beasts howled at him out of the desert. And he told about the heat and thirst of their desert journey and how they were almost at their goal when another lion chased them and wounded Aravis [the young girl that accompanied Shasta and the two horses on their journey]. And also, how very long it was since he had something to eat.

“I do not call you unfortunate,” said the Large Voice. [Aslan had not yet revealed his identity to Shasta]

“Don’t you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.

“There was only one lion,” said the Voice.

“What on earth do you mean? I’ve just told you there were at least two the first night, and- ”

“There was only one: but he was swift of foot.”

“How do you know?”

“I was the lion.” And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. “I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.”

“Then it was you who wounded Aravis?”

“It was I.”

“But what for?”

“Child,” said the voice, “I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own.”

“Who are you?” asked Shasta.

“Myself,” said the Voice, very deep and low so that the earth shook: and again “Myself,” loud and clear and gay: and then the third time “Myself,” whispered so softly you could hardly hear it, and yet it seemed to come from all around you as if the leaves rustled with it.

Shasta was no longer afraid that the Voice belonged to something that would eat him, nor that it was the voice of a ghost. But a new sort of trembling came over him. Yet he felt glad too.

…He turned and saw, pacing beside him, taller than the horse, a Lion. …It was from the Lion that the light came. No one ever saw anything more terrible or beautiful… He [Shasta] couldn’t say anything, he didn’t want to say anything, and he knew he needn’t say anything. ¹

The immediate application that I drew from reading this passage of The Horse and His Boy was that I need not fear the outcome of even the most troubling circumstances that arise in my life. Rather I must fear the God who has control over my soul! Our problem, just like Shasta, is that we fear circumstances more than the Great Lion - Jesus Christ - who orchestrates all circumstances for His glory and our good.

But the secondary application I drew, as I pondered this theme, was on a broader scale. Part of my job description, with Missions Mandate is to relay significant events that occur around the world on the blog. Many of these stories involve persecution of believers for their faith. It is very easy for me to get angry at the persecutors and doubt the goodness in what God allows. But God’s ways are beyond our ways; His means often confuse us. But, in the end (usually not until we are in heaven), His wisdom is revealed and we can only respond like the twenty-four elders in Revelation 4: “Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created.” Praise be to God who works all things according to His infinite wisdom and power!

¹Lewis, C. S. The Horse and His Boy. New York: HarperCollins. 1994, p.174-177.