In Edinburgh I finally got to see the new movie version of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. Today is Christmas and almost every present I’ve received has been some part of the merchandising for that movie. So predictable are my tastes, in fact, that my wife smiled her way into obtaining one of the huge display posters that Wesley Owen were using to advertise the products.
Loved the movie. The stories are very important to me, especially as I’ve reread them frequently as my Christian walk has progressed. It always means something new. Maybe it’s because I’m a father now but I was struck by how frightening Lucy’s scenes with Mr Tumnus actually are, the attempted kidnap and all. It might have been how much taller he was in the movie – I always saw him as roughly Lucy’s own height – but it’s probably just me being weird.
A more lasting problem, which I fear will remain with any further movies, was that Aslan was a little too… safe. I love the picture CS Lewis draws of the Great Lion, because it’s so clearly a picture of a living Christ as encountered by a Christian with a real, breathing faith. Perhaps this is why the books touch Christians’ hearts so deeply: because we recognise in Aslan the same experience of Christ that we’ve had ourselves, but too often failed to find words for. And that’s why it’s sad, but not surprising, that the film made him so… I dunno. It’s hard to explain. The word I keep coming back to is “safe”, because it’s the word CS Lewis focuses on in one key scene which, tellingly, didn’t show up in the movie.
Herein, Lucy realises, finally, that she’s actually going to have to meet Aslan. And then she finds out, to her horror, that he’s a lion – and not just a lion, but the Lion.
“Is he quite… safe?”
“Safe?” said Mr Beaver. “Who said anything about safe? Course he isn’t safe. He’s not a tame lion, you know. But he’s good. He’s the King I tell you.”
There’s a whole other debate here about fear of God and what it’s supposed to mean, how can you fear someone who’s supposed to love you, and so forth. I don’t intend to go into that because others have done it better, and… oh, it’s too hard to go into. I could drivel on for hours about what this means to me and I’d only be talking to myself.
The significance of that scene is that it expresses at once what is so hard and what is so extraordinary about a human walking with God. The walk will be on His terms, however much we may fool ourselves at first (and we will!) that we are in control. As we grow, hopefully we will become aware of a certain side to Him that requires rather more than just respect. It’s not just a question of reverence, though we may get away with that. Most of my walk with Him has been about quiet conversation, intimate revelation and deep, overpowering love. It has been about friendship and it has made me happy in a way no human relationship ever could. Very occasionally, however, it has become clear to me that I’m dealing with Almighty God – and to be honest I think anyone in that position might do well to be afraid.
But he’s good. He’s the King I tell you.
It’s about… understanding that He will require things of us. That some, even much of our growth will hurt. That we don’t know what He’s going to do. And that it’s about Him, not us, and that we are to be given no assurance of his intentions or of our security save what He has given us already. That there will be cold, rainy, painful times when all we’ll have will be a distant half-remembered notion that He once said things would be better in the end, and it really, really won’t seem like much at all. And all you’ll be able to do is keep repeating to yourself that He’s good, He’s good, He’s good.
And it’s more than this, more than all of this, too. We might insist on our independence, of course, and often He’ll let us have it. And much good it will do us! It’s not safe, not safe at all. Frankly, Mr Shankly, it means giving up the idea that we know what’s best for us. Because frankly, we don’t.
Doesn’t sound very safe, does it?
But he’s good. He’s the King I tell you.
This is as much as I can say about the film. Go and see it. Seek out the allegory whether you believe it or not, because it’ll help you at least to understand a little of how Christians think. Some Christians anyway… a few. Maybe just me.
Right now I’m much more about the heart than the head. It’s good to grow and become mature, but as Narnia might remind us, it’s a great deal more important to think like a child.
