We Need More Puddleglums

I was reading some "stuff" about The Emerging Church, and I noticed that one of the subtitles of a book advocating this "movement" was "From Absolute to Authentic" And I suddenly missed Puddleglum who fought for the absolute over the authentic even when it hurt. The relevant passage from The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis is as follows:

For the last few minutes Jill had been feeling that there was something she must remember at all costs. And now she did. But it was dreadfully hard to say it. She felt as if huge weights were laid on her lips. At last, with an effort that seemed to take all the good out of her, she said:

“There’s Aslan.”

“Aslan?” said the Witch, quickening ever so slightly the pace of her thrumming. “What a pretty name! What does it mean?”

“He is the great Lion who called us out of our own world,” said Scrubb, “and sent us into this to find Prince Rilian.”

“What is a lion?” asked the Witch.

“Oh hang it all!” said Scrubb. “Don’t you know? How can we describe it to her? Have you ever seen a cat?”

“Surely,” said the Queen. “I love cats.”

“Well a lion is a little bit – only a little bit, mind you – like a huge cat – with a mane. At least, it’s not like a horse’s mane, you know, it’s more like a judge’s wig. And it’s yellow. And terrifically strong.”

The Witch shook her head. “I see,” she said, “that we should do no better with your lion, as you call it, than we did with your sun. You have seen lamps, and so you imagined a bigger and better lamp and called it the sun. You’ve seen cats, and now you want a bigger and better cat, and it’s to so called a lion. Well, ‘tis a pretty make-believe though, to say a truth, it would suit you all better if you were younger. And look how you can put nothing into your make-believe without copying it from the real world, this world of mine, which is the only world. But even you children are too old for such play. As for you, my Prince, that art a man full grown, fie upon you! Are you not ashamed of such toys? Come, all of you. Put away these childish tricks. I have work for you all in the real world. There is no Narnia, no Overworld, no sky, no sun, no Aslan. And now, to bed all. And let us begin a wiser life tomorrow. But first, to bed; to sleep; deep sleep, soft pillows, sleep without foolish dreams.”

The Prince and the two children were standing with their heads hung down, their cheeks flushed, their eyes half closed; the strength all gone from them; the enchantment almost complete. But Puddleglum, desperately gathering all his strength, walked over to the fire. The he did a very brave thing. He knew it wouldn’t hurt him quite as much as it would hurt a human; for his feet (which were bare) were webbed and hard and cold-blooded like a duck’s. But he knew it would hurt him badly enough; and so it did. With his bare foot he stamped on the fire, grinding a large part of it into ashes on the flat hearth. …

“One word, Ma’am,” he said, coming back from the fire; limping, because of the pain. “One word. All you’ve been saying is quite right, I shouldn’t wonder. I’m a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won’t deny any of what you said. But there one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things – trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that’s a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We’re just babies making up a game, if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the play world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if their isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we’re leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that’s small loss if the world’s as dull a place as you say.”

The Secret Life of Roses

If you travel far or tarry long - away from love and refuge,
If you've lost your way from right to wrong -- still my heart is true
If the seven seas rise up between and you sail to distant wonders
I will wait upon some foreign shore and live on dreams of love

Of all the things I never said and all the hope inside me
I am still the keeper of the flame that will not be denied
There is beauty in the silent bird there is light where none can see it
There is truth when no one says a word there is love for you and me
And the secret life of roses that bloomed out of the sun
Is like the love that I keep for you -- it never will be done
And the stars we wish on up in the sky - they fade into the night
But my love will grow where no one knows
Like a rose's secret life

And the stars we wish on up in the sky they fade into the night
But my love will grow where no one knows
Like a rose's secret life

Grace and Mardi Gras

Well today is Shrove Tuesday/Fat Tuesday/Mardi Gras/Pancake Day depending on where you are and who you are. For those who don't know, in Roman Catholicism the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday (or the start of Lent) is the end of a festival - essentially you party before the fasting and deprtivation of Lent. The festivals generally start from 12th night (January 6th) and climax today. You are not to eat rich foods for Lent, so on the Tuesday before you would use up your butter and eggs and flour and make pancakes or other rich pastries - hence the Fat Tuesday or Pancake Day.

Learning all this when I looked it up on Wikipedia earlier just filled me with thanksgiving that the law of new life in Christ has set me free from the law of sin and death. I'm glad that God doesn't deal with me on a scale system - and that feasts must not be followed by fasts. I'm glad that I don't need to keep the feasts and fasts to make it into heaven. I'm so thankful for grace. Grace that says I'm a worthless sinner, chosen by God before the foundation of the world, to be redeemed by Him for no other reason than because He wants to.

But I'm also thankful for common grace. Common grace that gives us pancakes, and jazz music, parades, and magnolias, the French quarter, Creole and Cajun food, and even feasts and fasts to remind you of the blessings and mercies of God. All these things are good and come from a good Creator who gave ol'Satchmo that wonderful voice.

So, today I'm going to light my magnolia candles, I'm going to play my Louis Armstrong cd, I'm going to close my eyes and imagine I'm in the Big Easy, but I'm also going to pray for all those men and women who think God is judging them on a point system and have yet to meet His grace.

A Constant Victory

Before the winds that blow do cease,
Teach me to dwell within Thy calm;
Before the pain has passed in peace,
Give me, my God, to sing a psalm,
Let me not lose the chance to prove
The fulness of enabling love.
O Love of God, do this for me;
Maintain a constant victory.

Before I leave the desert land
For meadows of immortal flowers,
Lead me where streams at thy command
Flow by the borders of the hours,
That when the thirsty come, I may
Show them the fountains in the way.
O Love of God, do this for me;
Maintain a constant victory.

Amy Carmichael