I wrote the following almost two years ago. It came to mind as I ponder .. some of my current churnings. I think there may be a marshwiggle near by. Escape approaches. It will ..none-the-less lead to more battles. That is inevitable.
I’m not sure who I’m writing this to. I write without knowing. Have you read the Narnia book ,”The Silver Chair”? In that book Prince Rilian is held kept captive by the wicked witch. During the day he – forgets – who he is and moves about as the witches trusted and faithful Knight. As the witch tells him, He suffers from nightly psychotic episodes and therefore must be bound every night to an enchanted silver chair. Once bound in the chair – he remembers his true identify and what his destiny was intended to be. His rage grows as he desires to take vengeance on the enemy and return to those he was created to lead and serve.
I sometimes feel like Mondays are my ‘nights in the enchanted chair’. I am overcome with the futility of my daily work … while a passion surges in me to minister and serve …and have every second of my life be about pursuit of Christ ..and taking that message to the world around me. I’ll even give sermons to the audience of no-one in my morning shower. I pace the floors and walk the stairs pleading with God to set me free. My shower sermon today ended in tears and asking God to get me out of the shower ..and into the world as his faithful and obedient servant. Indeed if you had been anywhere in my home or near by ..you would have heard me. No whispering. You would have heard the screams of a mad man pleading to be rescued. To be free from my prison of self. That’s when the analogy of the silver chair struck me. My true calling feels bound. Unrealized passion burns within me. But my sword lies across the room – unreachable and seldom used.
As Monday winds on ..I make my to-do list .. I delve into emails and set course for the rest of the week and then typically press on through the silliness. Often not effectively. Almost never with passion. I simply go about the business of work. By the time Sunday evening roles around – I have had a few glimpses of passion living ..through ministry ..through the word ..through others… and yes even through work ..and then Monday terror begins to evade as Sunday wains. My presumption – as I feel the terror approaching – is that Mondays are my self-imposed ‘psychotic episodes’ of insanity.
Then Monday arrives. Somewhere deep inside my soul I realize that it is on Mondays – that I am sane. On the other days I live captive to the enchantment of worldly wisdom. On Monday’s it is when standing at the edge of the cliff that my heart becomes acutely attuned to who I am really meant to be. To serve, encourage, to minister, to sacrifice and expend my life in the service of others. Words, passions and prayers come to the surface that I have muted all week long. A passion bursts out of my heart and mouth …in the solitude of my home ..and yes often… as verbal sermons offered ‘to the lost wall-tiles’ in the shower! Ideas of service, ministry and sacrifice flow off my mind like ripe fruit falling from a tree. For a few minutes the passion of God boils from my heart and bursts out. ….Then ..the enchantment sets in. I am bound once again.
The responsibilities of the day, the need to pay the mortgage, to provide… to do what makes sense – meld into the voice of the soothing serpent calling for comfort. Worldly reason and logic once again dictate and muffles the ever fleeting passion of my true self. The fully human self God intended me to be. My momentary sanity disappears again and I return to my role as the trusted and faithful (but masked) knight.
If it is true ..I ask my true master to send a Marshwiggle to rescue me. My Friend Puddleglum where are you?
Whether walking as a masked knight or as sane madman – All I do know for sure ..is that Aslan is on the move.
PS: The door bell just rang. Middle of the day at the end of a cul-de-sac in Eagle River Alaska. I opened the door. No one around but the cat at the door. The cat walked in. Perhaps I am in Narnia. If the cat starts talking I’ll know my insanity has returned.
Desperate Pursuit 