Shasta’s Complaint

“Child,’ said the Lion, ‘I am telling you your story, not hers. No one is told any story but their own.”

The sky is a pale grey, the city sounds hushed under the falling rain. It’s monday, a day that ought to be anticipated with an awareness of new beginnings of fresh starts. I have done the rituals, the candle lit, the mat laid flat, the tight legs and shoulders loosened and stretched by a daily practice, the tea simmers, the vegetables eaten. Still discouraged. Still daunted by the week ahead. I opened to Psalms and read some words that I marked two months ago and simply wrote “korea” next to them. “Many, O Lord my God, are Your wonderful works which You have done. and your thoughts towards us cannot be recounted to You in order. if I would declare and speak of them, they are more than can be numbered.” I was reminded yesterday that each day spent here, in this far country and this side of heaven is e t e r n a l l y worth it. Because already we are children of God, but we are not yet who we will truly be. I’m encouraged by the hope of seeing the face of He who led me this far. He may seem far from me, the clouds may holding back the sun, but they don’t hold back hope. He is always here and working for my good, for your good.

So often I find myself much like Shasta, from C. S. Lewis’ The Horse and His Boy. We demand He show his face, and He reveals that he’s been walking beside us all along. though all I can hear is breathing in the dark, like the lion, He goes before me, He protects me, He comforts me.

waves that beat upon the shore, they brought me no peace
somewhere I must belong, somewhere for me.
who was it left me there, a boy scared alone?
no, I don’t think you heard me calling
always thought, He must not know
surely He would never leave
He wouldn’t leave me here alone

you tell me now that I was never on my own
well pardon me, I don’t remember you at all
’cause with my back against the tomb I called you out
but I don’t think you heard my answer,
I don’t think I heard a sound
I don’t recall you in my anger, I don’t remember you around

but He answered, “Who are you to question me?
do you command the mountains or calm the raging sea?
for I am the current, there to save your life.
a man my find his eye deceiving,
a fool holds on to trust his sight.
a wise man knows that his own feeling
may not with the truth align.
and you think you have never seen My face?
but every moment you’re alive you know My grace.
for only death in this cruel world is justly deserved.
and you say that I never answer
just because you have not heard?
but you don’t know how to listen or understand my word.

My love, I cared for you.
I was the comfort you felt in the house of the dead,
I drove from you beasts in the night,
all of this I have done while you slept,
all by my design, every chapter, every word
I’ve written every line.”

“I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the horses the new strength of fear for the last mill so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.”


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