All my life I’ve loved, written, and shared tales of magic. Do such stories have a place in a Christ-life?
This question rattled around a bit, stirring up dust and old leaves, and leaving me unsettled. However, one day with a knock on my door and a peace offering, the question showed up in a more polite fashion, and so I let it in.
We chatted together over tea, and I took notes. This poem arose after our conversation and some prayer.
Forest of My Heart
Lantern in the darkwood
Shine on the wolves!
Rouse them from the long spell and
the slumber of the snows.
Your campfire burns
in every one of my cells.
Wake us, O Lord, into holiness.
In the briar’s nest
the dragon yields
and the elves put down their bows
Surrender, my heart,
Surrender again!
We assume our proper stance
In honest praise of
You.
Amen!
So, yes, I do feel that magical tales - or at least certain kinds - can have a place in the Christ-life. We have the Narnia Chronicles as the quintessential example. At the same time, scripture is pretty clear that sorcery, divination, talking with spirits, and so on, are “dark arts” indeed. And I take those cautions seriously.
As I approach the end of the third year of this reboot of my life - I find myself ready to take up certain pursuits I’d set aside at the start of my internal reorg, such as fiction writing. Questions I had about where my stories lay within this new ecology are resolving as I head further down the trail. As I grow in my understanding of who Jesus is for me and myself in him, I glimpse a simplicity that is like that of a child. And moments open where I know what to do, and maybe a little bit of why.
And so I pause in this forest, to take in the scents and sounds, the story that tells itself within each breath that enters and leaves me, and in every spark of life and expression of it. I find the Vine, and nestle as a tendril on a branch to review our particular tale.
Christianity at its heart is exquisitely intimate: my personal relationship with Jesus, his with me. I can honestly say he came to save us, because he saved me. I know he rose from the dead, because he is alive in me, and, amazingly, outside of me too. In turning to him during a difficult chapter, and committing - no matter what - to never again turn away, the world has transformed around me. In the unfurling of my Christian heart, my life has turned inside-out. Miracles have taken place, and I find myself drinking from an astonishing river.
Not that it’s always easy or that I always know what to do or say, and not that I don’t fail others and myself. One is not granted any sort of perfection. Instead, in the Christ-walk I have countless opportunities to seek forgiveness, to forgive others, and to pick up my cross and try again.
To keep this post somewhat short, I’ll offer this thought:
The “magic” that I yearned for most of my life is indeed here, though not in the form I sought, but rather in the movement of the vast, sweet sea that is grace, often bestowed within the melody of mercy. “The Way” (as Christianity was called in its earliest days) doesn’t erase the things I loved in my old life. Rather, it lifts them up. It repairs dings and gashes, cleans off the icky stuff, shines things up, and casts them anew. I am given fresh ways to think about where I’ve been and where I’m going. I know, that in ripe time, I will resume my children’s fiction writing and illustrating. The Holy Spirit will nudge me to do so.
In the meantime - since I tell magical nature stories in my nature teaching, and occasionally print them in our Island newspaper - I enjoy meeting up with best of these tales. I always update my stories when I retell them, but I find that, for the most part, I have no need to do much in that direction. The tales are decent, expressing in some way or other, that love and generosity is woven into our beautiful creation, and that a surprising kindness can open the door to a reality more wonder-filled and beautiful than we can imagine.
That’s a good beginning.
Madeline L'Engle had some good things to say about the role of fantasy in a Christ centered life, in her book -- I think it was "Walking on Water"