return to sender

rather than wearing something old, new, borrowed and blue for my wedding, i took the opportunity to write a letter of appreciation to each of my old, new, borrowed and blue families, each named after its representative subset. my "old" family is my church family, being represented by a group of folks i lovingly refer to as "my old people." these hoary-headed church members are simply a delight to be around, and i always look forward to sharing their company around a table for wednesday night dinners. in exchange, they shared their joy, their stories, their wisdom, their encouragement, their experience- in short, it was not a fair trade by any means. they were totally ripped off.

at some point in the past year-ish (?) our church began a more intentional push to return some blessing to our elder members, especially those who are home-bound, sick, or living alone, by setting out cards, envelopes, and a list of their names so that we could write them notes of encouragement. if we learned anything in 2020, it was how soul-deadening that level of isolation can be (and also to wash your filthy disgusting hands, but that's another soapbox… ).

anyway, i know personally several of those names, and recognized several others, so i grabbed a members list and a pile of cards, used the excuse to buy cool new pens, and i began my "experiment."  i'd try to write a set number each week, and as soon as i heard anyone was calling the church to inquire about what weirdo was stalking them with random cards, i'd stop- or at least sign someone else's name (JK!  jk….)

bunny trail: this is what enneagram 5s do. we call new ventures "experiments" so that if it turns out to be a colossal failure we don't have to blame ourselves.

it was awkward at first. because seriously, who does this anymore? what do i say to someone i haven't seen in person for months, or more, or who is decades older, who i don't have much in common with? like, "hey, how are you- i just spent an hour cleaning crayon off every surface in the living room." i doubted anyone would care very much. but maybe they'd still like to remember what it was like to chase toddlers around, or look up the Bible verse i stuck in there, or smile at the animal stamp i stuck in the corner (i just had to. these stamps are too darn cute to not be put on absolutely everything i can).

but then something weird happened. a lady i'd never, ever spoken directly to found me one sunday and said a teary-eyed thank you. the next wednesday 2 women that i did know quite well said the same- one had a mother who received a card; the second was a widow who happened to get her card around the same time of year her husband died. a 94-year old hobbled down the long children's wing to find me, tell me some of her life story and give me a hug. (and then another elderly fellow said how much he appreciated the christmas card, because now he knew who the heck had been writing these cards, so it worked!)

but then something else happened. i got an email from the church secretary saying she didn't send one of the cards because the recipient had just passed away.

and its happened twice more. my "old people" leaving me before i was quite ready to say goodbye- i'd barely said hello to one of them. i was reminded of one of my memory verses, hebrews 12:1- "since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witness…" that cloud is a bit larger now, and heavy with their love, joy, and faithfulness. ms. clara- she was the first to write a letter of congratulations after my engagement, from her nursing home, no less. she had absolutely pure white hair, enabling her to wear NEON shirts and look AWESOME. mr. lynn- he came every week by the college students' pew, asking each of us if we were staying around after graduation. he was ecstatic when he found out i was. his wife, ms pat- she is getting a card this week. she sang in the choir, and smiled big enough for the entire soprano section. ms. janice took the plunge and joined facebook, tracking and commenting on my posts faithfully until covid called her heavenward. mr morris, ms sandy, ms mollie… ms pat is the only one here i can still write to.

and then this week happened.

i knew it was off to a bad start when i woke up to nik asking what to do with the kiddo who wandered into the work room covered in cute baby barf and asked for mo doos? cuppeese? (more juice? cup please?).  as i flushed away my entire day's plans, i received news that someone close to me had a possibly bad medical issue, a sister had tornado watches in effect, and that i would never be able to have that video call to my grandad i was planning.

i was nowhere near as consistent with calling him as i've been with these letters. i knew that he closely followed us on facebook, and thought of him with every post i've made, but it's not the same as a two-way conversation where he can share, too. this is more of a loss than anyone who didn't know him could understand. more than 90 years old, his mind was remarkably intact and every conversation with him brought forth more memories, stories, humorous anecdotes, and thoughts.

once the barfing baby stopped, i was able to clean (eVeRyThINg) up, sit down, and breathe. since i'd already written my week's homebound letters, i've decided to write one more, even though this one won't get mailed, either.

dear grandad,

hey- how are you? i just spent a day cleaning baby barf smell off every surface in … basically the whole house. it's a good thing your great grandkid is so cute. i remember when we first told you she was on her way, and the loss i felt when two days later my monday crumbled with news of grandmother's death. i was glad for the 4-day weekend that let us travel to you for her funeral. well, what do you know? two days after hearing about how you were doing, my monday crumbled.

except not really. it shook a bit, but stayed upright. this 4-day weekend won't let me come say the "official" goodbye, but i feel like we've sent those same thoughts back and forth already. i treasure the picture of you meeting bugaboo for the first time, and the joy on both of your faces. that "hello" memory is so much better than any "goodbye" memory i could get now at your funeral.

i kinda knew. i'm bummed, but not surprised. in fact, my first instinctive reaction was, "finally" (wait before you judge me)! my second was, "i still had that one question for him."

i won't get an answer, but i may as well ask anyway. besides, i already have a couple new ones for you.

first, of course, is "how is grandmother?" i already know the first place you ran to was that heavenly throne and the One who sits upon it. there is no way for you to describe Him, which is why i'm not asking about it. the apostle john did his best, and we all see how that turned out; i doubt even as good a storyteller as you could do better. there aren't words to express the emotions you must have gone through when your faith became sight and your immortal eyes were hit with that blaze of Glory. i imagine that's where you found her. i want so badly to know how she looks and how she's been spending this first part of eternity. was she able to watch you join a heavenly music band for a song or two? did you share a laugh about ditching that walker you both used, before you ran hand in hand down some heavenly sidewalk?

tell me about your "mansion," would you? when i said goodbye to your old home last april, i remember wondering at how small it was- practically a cottage, really. in all my memories it's several times larger! i could hear in every word you spoke that the house was getting smaller and smaller to you, too. just like my "old people," i watched you live out your faith day by day, making excellent use of your time on earth, but increasingly eager to leave it. once grandmother left, no place on earth would ever be "home." that little house was practically a mansion to us- mostly because of the enormous amount of love you and grandmother cram-jammed into it, and i'm just curious what i'll see when i finally get to visit you again.

of much less importance, but still: i have GOT to hear the story behind that freakishly gigantic safety pin on your little shelf of knick-knacks. we'd talked about you telling me about each one as i asked over calls or texts… but somehow we never got around to those. i'm having one of those cliché "ah, what i wouldn't give for one more conversation" moments. i just loved basically every story you ever told (especially the medical ones), and even small or simple every day moments had shades of legend when you told them. and let's be real- a 5 inch safety pin is not an everyday item; i refuse to believe the background story is anything less than hysterical. it's my fault for not just asking ages ago.

as long as i'm asking imaginary questions in an imaginary letter, i'll toss this one in, too: ARE THERE DINOSAURS UP THERE?!? no, but really!! if there's a new heaven and a new earth, and the first one was perfect (at least for a few verses), i'm hoping the new perfect earth has them as well. and if there are dinosaurs, are there cats- cats that look like the ones we've known here? maybe only the ones we liked…. i know animals don't have souls, and there will be perfect joy and peace in heaven, Jesus is all we need… but man, having a pet dinosaur to ride in heaven would be basically the coolest thing ever.

don't judge me. okay, maybe judge me a little bit.

i've got a bunch of your day lilies planted here. there are some on each side of the house, to maximize my chances of not killing most of them. now i just need to put some kind of garden border around them, to maximize the lawn guy's chances of not killing the rest. so far, most of them grew back, even after being mowed down a few times. i'm hoping, hoping it works out, and that they will be a reminder for many, many years to come.

a reminder to ask questions, write letters, learn from and listen to the people close to us, because we are never guaranteed another day to do so.

a reminder that every day is precious and we are called to be good stewards of our time and relationships.

a reminder that beyond this life is another one, a far better one, a life where the day lilies last as long as, well, that never-ending day.

a reminder to "lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely," so i can "run the race set before [me], looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of [my] faith," to someday join my "no-longer-old people" at the finish line.

a reminder that in the midst of that "great cloud of witnesses" there is now yet another one: one i miss seeing here a little, but look forward to seeing again a lot. once i spend a few thousand years with Jesus, i'm gonna take my pet dino for a walk past your mansion and we'll have eternity to catch up.

tell grandmother i say "hello." 

the sad sage

i had the great privilege the other day to join my fiancé in an atypical conversation with a deist who i'm willing to bet has a very high IQ. before the server had even brought the bread and salad i was roped into the discussion the guys had going before we met up: the origin and potential end of the universe. umm, yeah. by the arrival of the steaks, we could add quarks, black holes, spirits, the apocalypse, the purpose of man, the exclusivity of Christianity vs hinduism, the crusades, scientific theory, the similarities and differences between the major world religions, and the weird tesseract-like layer of pure energy enveloping the sun that supposedly could power the world for like, a billion-jillion years. [and also whether or not nik copied my order because he realized my choice of steak was superior, or if he really had independently decided on the exact same meal. i hold the former, he the latter.]  because we weren't done with the discussion, we split a massively unhealthy dessert so we could finish talking…exactly where we began, but so full of food that i couldn't slouch and breathe at the same time.

 

and while it was a true privilege, i walked (or rather, waddled) out of the restaurant fighting off waves of frustration- and wonder, oddly enough. it's been a hot minute since i've met a person who not only believes in nothing that can't be explained a mathematical formula, but who also doesn't care at all. he gets the physical world. he thinks he has a grasp on the world religions. computer code? nailed it. steve jobs? stephen hawking? loves 'em. but for himself, life is a giant shrug. does he have purpose? eh, probs. *shrug*. is there something not strictly physical about a person? dunno. *shrug*.  what does he think about the possibility of eternity, and what that could mean for him? huh. guess i'll find out when i get there. *shrug*. he's content to focus on his career right now and worry about the afterlife later. he's got places to go and good things to do now.

 

a rising number of individuals from this generation have embraced this sort of thinking, though. take this friend's thought process, add some eastern-style clothing and a yoga mat, and you've got just enough religion to make these busy people feel safe without inconveniencing them with concepts like absolute Truth. i mean, if all these super-spiritual ideas come from old, dead, bald guys with single names- like, "confusious" and "ghandi" and "buddha," it must be wise enough to live by, right?  it all sounds 100% legit… until you process what you're being told.  

 

i've got a scratch-off poster of 100 really cool books to read ("cool" here applicable only for major nerds).  it includes everything from harry potter to the time machine to the origin of the species to the fireman to watership down. 

 

***bunny trail: harry potter- loved the series of wholesome, family-oriented characters with a wonderful moral compass, leaders worth following, and followers who know the value of friendship, loyalty, honesty and respect. time machine- amusing and fun. the origin of the species- darwin seems to think if he uses enough science words then most everyone would rather accept the theory than be bothered to suffer through more than a chapter or two. he's not wrong. the fireman- the absolute worst book to read during a global pandemic that kills people almost at random, causing most of society to shut down, about a global pandemic that kills people almost at random, causing most of society to shut down (the cool part being that instead of coughing, the victims of this pandemic spontaneously combust). watership down- bunnies galore. it's like a hug for the soul. read this one.***

 

with my library book app charged up, i began one that sounded fascinating- mahatma ghandi's "my experiments with truth"- his autobiography. i love hearing from leaders of other cultures and countries, especially ones who project wisdom, justice and some level of spirituality.

i was too far in to quit (and determined to complete the scratch off poster), but i wish i could have. it's depressing. for all his wisdom, justice and spirituality, after 300+ pages there is only one "truth" that ghandi was hardcore, dead-set, steadfastly sure of in this life. wanna know what it is? vegetarianism. i wish so bad i were lying.

 

is there a God? well, there's some kind of god/life force in all of us; this force has no name or specific characteristics, but it definitely/probably hears prayers and keeps me from temptation to eat meat or even drink milk.

which exclusive religion is true? eh, they're all true; i shall teach all my friends' kids to follow whatever god/life force they want, to be hard-working, and to not eat meat or even drink milk.

what "is" good or bad, or right or wrong? being mean to any living thing is bad and wrong; therefore i shall be good and right by never eating meat or milk. and also most grains. and spices. and eggs.  i shall eat bananas and walnuts all my days.

is there an afterlife? i sure hope so. even more days to eat bananas and walnuts.

 

this man who was so kind and respectful and honest to a fault never finds the truth he's looking for. he spouted words, phrases, ideas from the Bible and hindu teachings… but seemed to contradict both faiths; he wouldn't go for hinduism because he frankly didn't know anything about it, and he shied away from Christianity because it was boring. really. that was his reason. but since he was kind and respectful and honest and vegetarian, he has earned his place as a role model, leader, sage.

i feel it is worth actually saying that in many ways, he was indeed a role model, leader and sage. he gave his life to improving race relations, easing the suffering of the mistreated lower classes, feeding the hungry, educating the poor, giving them a voice in their country's government, practicing self-control in all things, and holding himself to very high moral standards. he was probably the first, and also last, truly honest lawyer who actually didn't lie to, for, or about any judge, witness or other lawyer. he promoted freedom of religion, openly (yet respectfully) spoke out against horribly unjust government practices, and led by example in all things.

 

but he never found truth.

he never reached the point of "satyagraha" (reliance on/pursuit of truth) where he felt he was pure enough. he prayed to "God," but was fully convinced that "there is no God but Truth." and he was still searching for it. his fasting hadn't helped. his impressive legal practices hadn't helped. his long list of excellent, kind, noble, peaceful, (vegetarian), generous, wise deeds… hadn't helped. 

 

what kills me, and what made me want to stop reading was when i saw just how close he was to the true Truth.  about 2/3 through his book, i read this:

 

"i hold today the opinion as i held then. to my mind the life of a lamb is no less precious than that of a human being. i should be unwilling to take the life of a lamb for the sake of the human body. i hold that, the more helpless a creature, the more entitled it is to protection by man from the cruelty of man. but he who has not qualified himself for such service is unable to afford to it any protection. i must go through more self-purification and sacrifice before i can hope to save these lambs from this unholy sacrifice. today i think i must die pining for this self-purification and sacrifice. it is my constant prayer that there may be born on earth some great spirit, man or woman, fired with divine pity, who will deliver us from this heinous sin, save the lives of the innocent creatures, and purify the temple."

 

and he did. ghandi died still pining for the Lamb who gave His life freely- it wasn’t taken- in order to not just purify the Temple, but to purify us and make US the new Temple. we have been delivered from every heinous sin, because God in His unfathomable, divine, "reckless" love caused to be born on earth that Holy Deliverer Jesus Christ. He didn't save innocent creatures, because innocent creatures have no need of saving. "Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom i am the foremost" (1 Timothy 1:15). we are sinners, whose even "tiniest" of sins is an affront to God's holiness and incompatible with His character. perfection simply cannot be with even a slight imperfection without becoming itself imperfect. no matter how much ghandi (or you, or i) fasts or how little he lies, or how much he donates to the poor, he will never be perfect and thus literally cannot be in the presence of a perfect God. only a perfect sacrifice can make that possible. and that sacrifice is Jesus.

 

ghandi's prayer had already been answered, and ghandi refused to believe it.

the absolute worst part is that ghandi has now spent 72 years of atoning for his lack of perfection- and he still has an eternity. he will never be perfect enough to save even a little lamb, much less himself or another human.

in the world's opinion, if there is a heaven, then ghandi is definitely there and probably has one of the biggest mansions of all.

however, one thing ghandi got (mostly) right was that God is Truth. and the truth is that those who are not delivered from their heinous sins by the Lamb must themselves pay the penalty, which is eternal separation from God.

that's where ghandi is right now- he's in hell. that's where all the self-sufficient "nice people" who did "good" things are- they are in hell.

that's where my newest acquaintance will go if he chooses to continue his current plan of walking into eternity with zero concern. he will go to hell.

 

i made it to the end of the book, at last.

and if you are reading this, you made it to the end of this post.

i learned quite a bit from ghandi, but i hope somehow i'm not the only one.  my prayer is that his life and message might compel someone to find what the sad sage never did. if it's my new friend, or you, or your friend- whoever it is who finds the Truth will be blessed indeed.

the song of the Rock

i've always felt a pull towards the idea of missions, especially foreign missions.  i love traveling. i love adventures. i love the sights, sounds, feels and tastes.  i simply adore the camaraderie of  serving with a team, meeting goals and needs, serving side by side fellow Christians of every nationality.  it's a small piece of heaven; i want every slice i can get.

for some reason (okay, let's call it what it is: SIN) it's always been a thousand times easier to find a stranger in a foreign land and share the Gospel than it is to grab the elbow of my neighbor and share this mind-blowingly good news. 

it's Easter, friends.  this week our extended family members all over the world are celebrating the climax of Christianity.  this is it!  Easter weekend is the single reason we all have hope, love, a future, a family, forgiveness.  the TOMB is EMPTY! THAT ROCK MOVED, FOLKS!! if ever there was a time to celebrate life, it's now.  if ever there was an opportunity to share Christ that was handed to you on a silver, diamond-studded platter, it's now.

it's also the time when the whole nation is "sharing" and "liking" posts, making new hashtags and changing their profile pictures to the flag of Belgium.  social media is exploding with news about, and prayers for, the victims, their families, their country… OUR country, every country! the death toll rises, names are being released, and once again anyone with a trace of spirituality is praying to whatever or whoever they think might be listening.  instead of celebrating life, thousands are mourning death.

the exciting, and scary, thing about all of this is that we've gotten our cue.  we missed it-again- but we get a second (or ten thousandth) chance.

every word i read or hear about missions fills me with both hope and shame. hope at the idea of giving as much time as God allows to serving Him in a place still waiting.   shame, because… i'm surrounded by people HERE and NOW who don't know, don't care, don't know to care and live day to day waiting for a "something." and yet i, and so many Christians, live day to day with our mouths closed.  without the glamour and thrill of a passport stamp, the concept of bringing up faith, religion or an afterlife is deemed as  inappropriate and socially unacceptable. 

and yet...

and yet, there's a world out there crying out for answers and mercy.

for a hope that lasts longer than a paycheck.

for a life that is free of pain, guilt, death, gore, sickness, bullets and bombs.

for a ruler that… is not quite like any current (or past) dictator, king or president.

we have it.  we have all of that.

because we have HIM.

HE is it.  our Hope that "enters once for all" into the true temple "not made with human hands" with a better sacrifice than all the goats and sheep in creation- Himself.

He is our Life- the source of all Life, and the way to a Life that will never end and that makes this earthly life as pale and transient as morning fog.

He is the Ruler that will never be unjust, protects all His own and whose term in office never ends.  no currency except faith.  no taxes except joyful praise. no end at all, except of sin and all its consequences. 

this is the song that never ends; it just goes on and on, my friends! it started just outside an empty hole in the ground, and will continue for all eternity, growing ever louder as we all join our voices.

we have it- all of it.

not only that, but we also have a direct order from our Ruler to bring as many others into this Kingdom as possible. He hears these cries, and has told us to show them the Answer.

the ancient Jews celebrated the Passover every single year, to serve as a reminder of their salvation.  they were even told how to share the meaning of their festival, so they would be prepared with an answer every time someone asked them what on earth they were doing.

as great as that holiday was… we celebrate the best of all Passovers- the final one, where our Lamb paid the final price and paved the way to God Himself, open to all who accept it.  we also each have an answer, a testimony, a true drama, a personal story to share every single time someone asks us what on earth we are doing.

i promise you this- you will honk some people off.  they will tell you that are an idiot, and worse.  they will tell you to shut up. they may end friendships, cost you business, hurt deeply.  your story may mean nothing to whoever you are talking to. Jesus Himself was told off by the  "religious elite." His answer: if the people won't, the rocks will.  the Good News will not be silenced.  it WILL be told- the only difference is the "how."  i haven't done my part.  i want to start- before my garden border stones start singing and put me to ultimate shame.

but i also promise that there is someone in your immediate vicinity that will hear and respond.  whether or not you ever hear about it, someone is broken and in desperate need of a Healer.  you knowing or taking credit is soooo not the point.  the personal cost is also not the point. whatever cost to you, Christ's was eternally greater. take a leap of faith and have your answer ready. there is nobody less worthy of the Gospel than you; there is nobody more worthy of the Gospel than any ISIS leader.  everyone needs to hear. and if we don't share, the rocks themselves will instead.  please don't give them our job. it's our time to rise up together and share Easter joy!

if you remember the point in your life when the message finally sunk in,  let that give you the strength to be that joy to someone else. 

let this Easter be a vivid reminder of what is at stake.   let His hope fill you with both joy and courage.  make this the best Easter of your life, and the first true Easter for someone else.  silence those rocks-ready, set, go!

Arnav, Aslan and the Ultimate Father-Abba (Coffee Corner Conversations, #2)

the most recent conversation i've had, in my favorite (only) "coffee corner" in my favorite (only) local bookstore was with a kind Muslim of the non-creeper variety. he's got  double handful of mixed up beliefs about Jesus and the Bible, but for a Muslim he's less mixed up than i originally gave him credit for. 

his pseudonym is "Arnav" simply because a Google searched website said it was the #1 Indian boy name last year.  and it has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

of course, with these two faiths side by side sipping cappuccinos, the hinge of the whole 2.5 hour chat was Jesus, His death and resurrection, and hell.  Arnav's belief of "hell" is much more like the concept of purgatory, a time of penance for wrong beliefs and actions before eventual release to heaven, where he says all souls and spiritual beings will someday find themselves.  if God is loving, he claims, then He could never condemn someone to Hell, even for the worst of crimes.  to make his point, he told me his favorite mini parable, retold here:

two men are sitting by a fire discussing eternity as a woman walks by with her child. the first man asks the second if that mother could ever find it in herself to push her child into the flames.  the second immediately rejects the thought of something to repulsive.  the first man replies, "neither could God ever throw one of His children into hell."

short. sweet.  persuasive.

i'm still not good at finding the right words quickly to respond, and it took me a couple days to figure out what about that bothered me so much.  because what he said was true.  God does love His children beyond what we can fathom. 

but it's what he didn't say- that's the catch.

God loves His children.  we'll put that as a fact right here.

God does not chuck His children into eternal fires, just like that mother wouldn't throw her kid into that fire.

if i were the woman walking by the fire, i would put down my basket, take the kid's hand and march right up to Guy #1 and tell him something. firmly.

i would tell him never to question the love of a true mother for her kid. never. just don't do it.  but i would also tell him to NEVER, EVER QUESTION WHAT I WOULD DO  IF ANYTHING THREATENED THAT CHILD.  you had better believe if some football-player type jerk walked up with a knife, or even just a perverted look on his face directed at my kid, i would TAKE HIM OUT.  i would beat the ever-lovin' snot out of him, and i would fight him all the way into the fire until the threat was eliminated.  i would not take his hand and hold it in the heat for a minute, ask him nicely if he had learned his lesson, and then let him walk away.  i'm sorry, but there is no Purgatory for that one.

animals from every Kingdom, Phylum, Class and Order have representatives that are naturally endowed with a maternal instinct, a self-sacrificial, immediate, natural, thoughtless, response to a threat to her offspring. 

any intelligent human who has gone on a hike ever, knows there are a few key rules: bug spray, how to ID poison ivy, bring a map and a buddy, and FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, IF YOU SEE A BEAR CUB YOU RUN LIKE HECK IN THE OTHER DIRECTION.  

the wrath of a mother bear is not a force to be reckoned with, but a force you hope to never face down, because between Mama Bear and Iron Man…. i'm putting money on Mama Bear.

in response to my friendly Muslim's parable, i put forth my own (well, someone else's).  it's the story of Taken.

this movie, featuring Liam Neeson, is the story of just how far a father will go to get his kidnapped child back. let me tell you, it's pretty freakin' far.  when he overhears the kidnappers take off with his kid and then challenge him from a continent away, his response sends shudders up the backs of the movie viewers-

i don't know who you are. i don't know what you want.  if you are looking for a ransom, i can tell you i don't have money.  what i do have are a very particular set of skills. skills i've acquired over a very long career...if you let my daughter go now, that will be the end of it.  i will not look for you. i will not pursue you.

but if you don't, i will look for you. 

and i will find you. 

and i will kill you.

then he proceeds, in a very Liam Neeson-like manner, to blast through buildings, vehicles, boats, parties, meetings, gangs, construction sites, hooker-houses, and homes until he arrives face to face with the last man standing between him and his daughter. 

all the other challengers are dead. 

i don't know what foolishness made that idiot stand and put a knife to the girl's throat.

but he died, too.

what i love about this movie is that there is absolutely no doubt in anyone's mind while watching this movie that Neeson WILL succeed.  and there is no pity for the evildoers.  nothing but righteous indignation for Liam as he fulfills his promise with firmness, dexterity, and a fair amount of cussing (he's pretty ticked…).

what i love even more is that later on in his career, Liam would also go on to become the new voice of Aslan, the Lion King of Narnia. 

especially this Easter weekend, as Christians around the world celebrate the best holiday ever, we see the real story put before us that Narnia is the parable OF. 

the story of just how far a parent will go to rescue his child.

the story of a child, taken from his parent, trapped, ensnared, lost, hopeless, tired, starving, wretched, weak, alone and on the brink of death and eternal damnation-

...waiting

...silence..

...nothing- then!!

-who is suddenly, miraculously, completely, eternally, firmly, loudly, always-and-forever saved, redeemed, snatched from the clutches of evil and brought away from the danger of the flame and instead placed in a soft green meadow to rest while the Parent "deals with" the threat. 

there's "that moment" in The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe - what a great moment!-  when you can just about hear Aslan's voice echoing from that dusty wardrobe- "GET YOUR HAND OFF MY KID, YOU EVIL WITCH!!!"

i heard it again even tonight, as i was listening to part of the Maundy Thursday service.  this service traces Jesus' journey from the Last Supper, through that dinner, the betrayal, His earnest prayer to not suffer what He was about to suffer, His friends leaving Him alone and denying Him, His betrayer approaching and handing Him off to soldiers, His mocking and beatings, the Cross, the one-way trip up a small hill outside the city where people dumped their trash…

at each step, you're watching, knowing that your soul is hanging in the balance- either He takes the punishment… or you do.

at each step, you're hearing it thinking- "oh snap… He's gonna quit.  i'm not worth that."

and at each step, He says, "yes you are." and He takes another step. 

you want to know how far a parent will go to get His kid back?

the answer is "to hell and back."

He took that Cross, He went through Hell and He came back.

i know there's an eternal Hell where souls go forever. 

i know because it's technically where i belong.

i know because it's also where He went so that i wouldn't.

...and since He's the only one who's done that, i'm going to take His authoritative word on the subject.

Hell is there to show both His eternal love for His children that He saves from judgement, and eternal justice for those who willfully despise  Him and His sacrifice, reject His offer of forgiveness and mercy without price and instead choose to bear their own crosses to Hell...only they can't come back.

hard to hear if you think you're Iron Man, but if you're the cub standing behind Aslan the Protector, it's the most blessed and peaceful message. 

if you are horrified by the idea of Hell, it's probably because you're in your metal outfit and think you're safe- but you question that force in front of you.

this is a good thing.  definitely question that force.

...then admit defeat.  you cannot win. give up now- please.

but Aslan is roaring for you, too.  He defeated the evil forever, not just for Eustace, but for you, too.  He challenged Hell and soundly defeated it in a showdown that reverberated throughout all the realms of nature even to the supernatural heights.  the sun forgot to shine, fabric fell apart, rocks shuddered under people's feet, and dead people forgot they were supposed to stay in their graves and NOT go running through the streets on Passover effectively making everyone they shook hands with "unclean" according to the religious law of the day.  yes, there is SO much irony there.  the people of faith were forever cleansed from sin, while the people of the written law were yapping about ceremonial uncleanness because their great-great uncle just touched them while wearing graveclothes.

to my Muslim friend Arnav, i hope he hears Aslan's roar someday, and comes to know personally the Eternal Living God who calls to him as a parent calls a child home for dinner, and who his children refer to as "Abba."  the Father you may never have known in this life is waiting for you to come home to Him.  He can take your Hell- He's been there and won.  let Him take it, and give you in exchange a white robe and peace under His loving, watchful eye where no threat stands a chance.  His victory roar is also His promise.

i hope you hear it, too.

it's  beautiful roar, as long as it's for you.