Quiet: Lucy and the Lion


Several weeks ago, I mentioned the need to find more quiet space in my life. This last week in particular has confirmed that; it’s been especially loud both from outside sources and from the noise inside my very own head. It's been a cacophony of what other people think I should do, what I think I should do, what other people say I should think, and what I think I should think.

And half the time, I’m not even sure of that.

In a lot of ways, it’s been like trolling up and down the radio dial (do people other than me still do that?), catching only bits and pieces of coherent communication. Mostly there’s just noise and a lot of static. And in that confusion, I find that it’s really hard to find my way and often I end up simply walking around in circles.

Just like Peter and Susan and Edmund and Lucy.

In C. S. Lewis’ Prince Caspian, the Pevensie children are whisked back to Narnia--a Narnia that they don’t recognize--and end up spending a great deal of time wandering about in the forest. Forget that there is a battle to be won, prisoners to be rescued, and a kingdom to be established, these poor souls can’t even find their way out of the woods. It’s only when Lucy finally sees Aslan himself that there is the thread of hope that they might find their way by following him. But instead of following, instead of listening to him, Lucy listens to the voices around her –good voices, close voices, sensible voices—but voices that, nonetheless, drown him out. And the children end up wandering still further, wasting even more time.

Finally, one night, Aslan comes to Lucy in order to lead them out.

“Lucy,” he said, “we must not lie here for long. You have work in hand, and much time has been lost today.

“Yes, wasn’t that a shame?” said Lucy. “I saw you all right. They wouldn’t believe me. They’re all so—“

From somewhere deep inside Aslan’s body there came the faintest suggestion of a growl.

“I’m sorry,” said Lucy, who understood some of his moods. “I didn’t mean to start slanging the others. But it wasn’t my fault anyway was it?”

The Lion looked straight into her eyes.

“Oh Aslan,” said Lucy, “You don’t mean it was? How could I—I couldn’t have left the others and come up to you alone, how could I? Don’t look at me like that… oh well, I suppose I could. Yes, and I wouldn’t have been alone, I know, not if I was with You.”

And so this week, just like Lucy, I’m re-learning a simple truth: In the midst of all the confusion, in the midst of all the doubt, in the midst of all the noise, being alone with Him is often the only way out.