"A man may go into terrible debt for many years to buy a truck, and when he had one, he gave himself to it with utter slavish devotion. He named it, first of all, giving it a name of power and protection ... it would call forth all of his courage and strength and love and would, in turn, transport and support him, enable and enoble him, and make him powerful and influential and capable of moving people, of lifting up one and putting down another." - Elisabeth Elliot, These Strange Ashes
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If you know me well, you know I love reading. I usually have an hour or two each night dedicated to reading on my Kindle, and usually read one or two inexpensive Kindle books a week. Sometimes they are awful and I have to return them. Sometimes I love them and spend countless other hours rereading them.
However, it is summer. Which means long walks to Evans Library with my special book bag. I live for summertime reading (and Christ). It means I can spend countless hours poured over our library database, snooping through shelves on the fourth and sixth floor as I hum The Times They Are A-Changin'. It also means I can borrow whatever books I want, like ones about how to collect butterflies. I have complete justification over my free book choices. I just finished Gift from the Sea last night. It is Anne Morrow Lindbergh's meditations of a life characterized by solitude, love, and rest. She had spent a week or two at the beach alone, looking at seashells and writing about the finer points of life. I thought thought this was very prettily done: "It is true, of course, the original relationship is very beautiful. Its self-enclosed perfection wears the freshness of a spring morning. Forgetting about the summer to come, one often feels one would like to prolong the spring of early love, when two people stand as individuals, without past or future, facing each other. One resents any change, even though one knows that transformation is natural and a part of the process of life and its evolution. Like its parallel into physical passion, the early ecstatic stage of a relationship cannot continue always at the same pitch of intensity. It moves to another phase of growth which one should not dread, but welcome as one welcomes summer after spring. But there is also a dead weight accumulation, a coating of false values, habits, and burdens which blights life. It is this smothering coat that needs constantly to be stripped off, in life as well as relationships." Reminds me of Bob Dylan's famous words: And admit that the waters Around you have grown And accept it that soon You'll be drenched to the bone And if your breath to you is worth saving Then you better start swimming or you'll sink like a stone For the times they are a-changing. Times a-change. Relationships change. We're to expect that. There is no reason for us to expect sameness, but we can expect response. Even during my harvesting and dry seasons (or my ebbs and flows, to retain her nautical lingo), the important thing is to remember that maturity and growth happens with time, in the heat. We cannot expect our friendships or relationships with one another to remain consistent. We would be denying ourselves of who we are: people who mature with time. I like to read books like Gift from the Sea because it requires a response. I can think of a couple relationships that I have that I have been responding to wrongly. I need to shed the smothering coat of my expectations and respond in love. As Paul urges the Philippians, "Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others" (Phil. 2:3-4). Do you need to shed some false ideas or expectations about someone or about life? Do you need to reevaluate how you view that friend or circumstance? Do you need to start swimming? I think I do. Postscript: Anne Morrow Lindbergh is an interesting woman. She was married to Charles Lindbergh, the famous aviator, and her first child, Charles A. Lindbergh Jr. was kidnapped and killed in 1932. I knew about the Lindbergh family since I was a child, but I didn't know who she was until I was finished with her book. I think it is quite a success to write a sweet little book like Gift from the Sea with such a difficult past. She is worth reading about. Thank you, Mom, for teaching me about sensational stories like the Lindbergh family, and for letting me read Murder on the Orient Express as a kid (Agatha Christie based part of Orient Express on her son's death). I couldn't read Twilight, but I sure could read And Then There Were None! I am blowing kisses to you. I don't know why The Times They Are A-Changin' is my library anthem. It just is. However, I do think everyone needs to listen to Bob Dylan. I even kindly added him into my blog post so you can love him as much as I do. Listen to Don't Think Twice, It's Alright and Blowin' in the Wind, to name two classics. "'You have a traitor there, Aslan,' said the Witch. Of course everyone present knew that she meant Edmund. But Edmund had got past thinking about himself after all he'd been through and after the talk he'd had that morning. He just went on looking at Aslan. It didn't seem to matter what the Witch said."
I will unashamedly admit I cried when I read that. C.S. Lewis wrote some heavy stuff for a children's book! I will also admit that I hated Edmund just as much as I did several years ago when I saw the movie, maybe even more. There were a couple moments when I tore my hair out, I was so frustrated at him. He sold the Beavers, his brother and sisters for some Turkish delight? I may like a good pizookie every now and then, but Edmund had to be absolutely ridiculous and selfish to spite them. But then I got to this part, after Aslan rescues Edmund and talks with him quietly. It is the "after" that matters much more than what happened before. It is when Aslan, the dangerous yet kind lion, is so radiantly wonderful that Edmund has no desire but to look at him. This has been one of the best years of my life. I love my routines and daily tasks, my friends (both little and big), and my family. I love loving Him. Knowing the Lord, at this stage of my life, is like knowing Aslan. He is a roaring lion, dangerous and unsafe for my world, but loving and gentle just the same. He takes me into His velvety paws and breathes life into my soul. Knowing all of this, you'd think I would be like Lucy. I'd like to think I am. However, there have been times where I traded real Kingdom treasures for some Turkish delight, just as Edmund did. The entire conflict in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe hinged on Edmund's insatiable desire for Turkish delight. He was so dissatisfied that he trailed after the White Witch for another morsel. (Talk about Stockholm syndrome!) I resonate with Edmund. I am a glutton for Turkish delight. Yet once Aslan saw Edmund, he had compassion on him. He loved him. He died for Edmund and his penchant for Turkish delight. Glad I can be an Edmund, and that I can fix my eyes on Aslan no matter what the Witch calls me, and no matter how many times I turn to Turkish delight. Hey, free indeed is the one the Son sets free! |
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