The online journal of Luke Dockery

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Jimmy Allen (1930-2020)

I was saddened to hear that Jimmy Allen, well-known evangelist and long-time Bible professor at Harding University, passed away early yesterday morning. He had been in poor health for some time, so his passing was not a surprise, but still, I feel that the world has been made a dimmer place by his absence.

Allen was best known as an evangelist, and specifically, was a revivalist in the style of Billy Graham. In the 1960s and 1970s, he held a series of citywide gospel meetings, preaching to thousands and thousands in coliseums and sports stadiums. It is estimated that his evangelistic efforts led to over 10,000 baptisms.

Within the Harding community, however, Allen was also well-known as a Bible professor, and it was in that role that I knew him best. Dr. Allen was one of three absolutely outstanding Bible teachers that I had at Harding who made a profound impact upon my life (another was Neale Pryor, who I wrote about after his passing in 2011). By the time I came to Harding in the early 2000s, Allen’s style of fiery preaching was not popular with college students, but he seemed to be universally loved by those who had him as a teacher, and this despite the fact that he was notorious for rarely giving out A’s (the running joke was that the Apostle Paul couldn’t swing better than a B+ in Allen’s Romans class).

When I took Allen’s Romans class (and, also, when I read his autobiography, Fire In My Bones), I learned so much. Here are some lessons that have stayed with me:

Burden for the Lost

The driving passion of Jimmy Allen’s life was telling people about Jesus. He did not hide the fact that he had lived a prodigal sort of life before giving his life to Christ, but once he made Jesus the Lord of his life, he was obsessed with telling others about Him. There are so many stories of Allen taking advantage of “captive audiences” (friends in his fishing boat, even hitchhikers in his car!) and converting them to Christ. Allen didn’t consider himself to be a preacher (he would say, “I’m not a preacher, I’m a school teacher!”), but he felt that it was his mission to share his faith and it was unfathomable to him that so many other Christians didn’t seem to feel the same way.

Biblical Interpretation

I well remember an idea that Allen repeated often:

“You don’t learn anything about a Bible subject by reading a verse where it is not mentioned.”

This, perhaps, seems obvious, but people neglect this sound advice all the time. For example, if you want to know what baptism accomplishes, you need to read the various passages that talk about baptism and what it does. It is poor biblical interpretation to read passages that don’t mention baptism and then infer ideas about baptism from its absence.

Believing the Best of Others

 I don’t remember the specific context, but it was in his Romans class that Allen said these words that I’ll never forget:

“If I hear something bad about someone, I never believe it. If it comes to the point that I have no choice but to believe it, I do not delight in it.”

These words have become a standard for my life. I do not always abide by them perfectly, but this is the goal that I seek. In an increasingly graceless cancel culture that pounces on the misdeeds of others and seeks to write them off, these words obviously represent a different path, but I believe it to be a path of profound wisdom.

Continual Learning

In Fire In My Bones, Allen shares several areas in which his views have changed over the years. He introduces that chapter with these words:

“A brother who says, “I haven’t changed any of my Biblical views in the last twenty five years,” has not had his head in the Bible. Furthermore, he would make a stagnant, mosquito-infested, mud hole look like fresh water! In teaching others, we are continually asking them to change from error to truth. We should be willing to practice the same.” (201)

This idea has played out in my own life: the more I study Scripture, the more my understanding of it grows. Some beliefs are anchored more deeply, others are nuanced and refined, and still others are changed significantly, as I learn new things that I didn’t know before. Like Allen, I am deeply suspicious of those who hold their never-changing ideas up as some sort of badge of pride.

Hope of Resurrection

In his younger days, Allen was an impressive athlete. I remember he used to tell us that when he was in college, he could run the 100-yard dash in 10 seconds flat, and there are all sorts of stories about his exploits on faculty teams in intramural sports. When I had him as a teacher, he was in his 70s, but I would still see him jogging outside.

In Romans class, I well remember his exposition of Romans 8.18-25, and his discussion of the resurrection body. Well aware of his own decaying body that no longer could do the things it once did, he eagerly anticipated “the redemption of our bodies” (v. 23), and the splendid and powerful body that he would have post-resurrection. His emphasis on bodily resurrection as the center of Christian hope was re-orienting for me, and remains influential in my own views; his teaching on the redemption of creation (from the same passage) was a significant influence in my understanding of eschatology that has developed over the last several years.

In addition to what I mentioned above, Allen was also noteworthy for his teaching on grace at a time when that had not been properly emphasized, his commitment to racial equality in a time of segregation and racial tensions, and his dedication to a nonsectarian Restoration ideal. In short, he was an impressive and inspirational man in a lot of ways.


For a man who was so active and had such a brilliant mind, I cannot imagine how frustrating the last few years must have been: from what I understand, he was confined to a nursing home, in declining physical and cognitive health.

Echoing the words of the Apostle Paul, we can truly say that for a man whose life was Christ, his death is gain: Jimmy Allen is now with Jesus, and he awaits the resurrection. But at the same time, we can lament, for death is never a good thing; it is not a part of God’s plan. It is an enemy, indeed, the last enemy to be defeated. But as Christians, we believe that it will be defeated, that our bodies will be raised, and our lowly, corruptible bodies will be transformed and become like Christ’s glorious, incorruptible body. Jimmy will enjoy that; he has long anticipated it.

Lament For A Son: Speaking Into Suffering

I have been writing some brief reflections on Nicholas Wolterstorff’s excellent Lament For A SonOne aspect of this little book that I really enjoyed was Wolterstorff’s discussion of what we should say to people when they are suffering.

Hopefully, many of us have heard and heeded the warnings to not be like Job’s friends, who sat with him in comfort for several days and then began to talk, only to make matters much worse. I would wager that anyone who has experienced significant pain and loss has also dealt with “miserable comforters” like Job’s friends.

And yet, while we should be careful about what we say to those who are suffering, we should not let the fear of saying the wrong thing prevent us from saying anything or from avoiding the suffering person altogether.

“What do you say to someone who is suffering? Some people are gifted with words of wisdom. For such, one is profoundly grateful. There were many such for us. But not all are gifted in that way. Some blurted out strange, inept things. That’s OK too. Your words don’t have to be wise. The heart that speaks is heard more than the words spoken. And if you can’t think of anything at all to say, just say, “I can’t think of anything to say. But I want you to know that we are with you in your grief.”

Or even, just embrace. Not even the best of words can take away the pain. What words can do is testify that there is more than pain in our journey on earth to a new day. Of those things that are more, the greatest is love. Express your love. How appallingly grim must be the death of a child in the absence of love.” (34)

While Wolterstorff offers grace to those who blurt our “strange, inept things,” he does offer a caution for the sort of thing that should not be said:

“But please: Don’t say it’s not really so bad. Because it is. Death is awful, demonic. If you think your task as comforter is to tell me that really, all things considered, it’s not so bad, you do not sit with me in my grief but place yourself off in the distance away from me. Over there, you are of no help. What I need to hear from you is that you recognize how painful it is. I need to hear from you that you are with me in my desperation. To comfort me, you have to come close. Come sit beside me on my mourning bench.” (34)

And, finally:

“Some say nothing because they find the topic too painful for themselves. They fear they will break down. So they put on a brave face and lid their feelings—never reflecting, I suppose, that this adds new pain to the sorrow of their suffering friends. Your tears are salve on our wound, your silence is salt.” (35)

This brings us back to what I said in the beginning. While care should certainly be used in what we say to those who are suffering, ignoring the sufferer out of concern that we may say something hurtful is, itself, a hurtful act. In many ways, it may feel like just being with those who are suffering and expressing our love for them is “the least we can do”, but in a very real sense, it’s also the most we can do.

It reminds me of a Swedish proverb that I have come to love: “Shared joy is a double joy; shared sorrow is half a sorrow.”

Increasingly, I have come to realize how much we live in a society that seeks to avoid and minimize death as much as possible. In such an environment, the sort of meaningful presence that Wolterstorff suggests does not feel natural, and is something that we may be tempted to avoid. But as followers of Jesus, we must seek to “bear one another’s burdens” (Galatians 6.2); we must speak into the suffering, whether we use words or not.

Readings on Racism

Over the last year and a half, I have done quite a bit of reading to help me better understand our current racial situation in the United States and some of the history that lies behind it. Of course, I have not read everything and, indeed, there are a few specific books that I still have intentions of reading, but I have read enough that: (1) I feel like my grasp of the situation is far better than it was previously, and (2) I feel confident making a few recommendations.

Though I hope these recommendations are beneficial for anyone, they are intended for a specific group: Christians who believe in the equality of all people and thus, deplore racism, but who also are uncertain or skeptical of the existence of “systemic” or “structural” racism. I suspect that many of my readers fall into this category, and so I am specifically recommending the three books below, because I used to fit into that category myself, and these books were very helpful in shaping my own views.[1]

Rather than write a full-on review, I will simply introduce each book and share why I found it to be helpful.

The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindnessby Michelle Alexander: This is not a fun read. On the contrary, it was devastating. Alexander lays out, in detail, how the American criminal justice system disproportionately punishes people of color in a variety of ways (ways that are certainly tied to socio-economic status, but which cannot be completely explained by social class). This is a helpful book to begin to understand a particular aspect of systemic racism and the way that it has creatively adapted throughout our nation’s history: when slavery was abolished, Jim Crow segregation took its place. When segregation was outlawed, mass incarceration took its place.

The Color of Law: A Forgotten History of How Our Government Segregated America, by Richard Rothstein: in many ways, I felt this was The New Jim Crow applied to the housing industry in the United States. It talks about all sorts of creative ways in which government officials—at the federal, state, and local levels—orchestrated the largely segregated society that still exists today in our country (zoning ordinances, neighborhood covenants, blockbusting, white flight, establishment of ghettos, construction of interstates, and more). The Color of Law shares tons of data and statistics, but is written in a narrative style that is easy to follow and understand.

The Color of Compromise: the Truth About the American Church’s Complicity in Racism, by Jemar Tisby: this book specifically addresses the American Church, and confronts the reader with the uncomfortable reality that throughout American history, white Christians have largely (though not entirely) turned a blind eye toward racism, and many times have actively supported and furthered racist agendas. Tisby does not shy away from hard truths, but he writes with clear affection for the church, and offers helpful suggestions moving forward.


This is an admittedly short list, and certainly there are a host of other helpful resources out there. I wanted to keep the list short, because I always find it overwhelming when someone suggests a list of a dozen must-read books. Most people simply do not have the time to do so. Three books is a much more manageable number. But also, I specifically include these books for a few reasons:

  • They tend to be more objective than subjective, based on historical data, research studies, and specific policies than personal perception or anecdotes (there is nothing wrong with the latter, but I think the former tends to be more convincing to a skeptical crowd).
  • They are not based on white guilt, but they do suggest a collective responsibility. It does not make sense for people to feel guilty about things entirely out of their control, but it certainly makes sense to take stock of the situation we all find ourselves in and do the best we can to improve it.
  • They do not promote the sense of paternalistic white saviorism that I have sensed from some who are seeking to respond to racial inequities.[2]

These books were really helpful for me; I hope they are for you!


[1]  When I say that I “used to” fit into that category, I am not suggesting that my devotion to Christ or my rejection of racism has changed (far from it!), but merely indicating that where I was once somewhat ambivalent about the reality of systemic racism in contemporary times, I am now firmly convinced of it.

How to go about addressing that reality is an issue for another time, but until we acknowledge the existence of a problem, we can’t do anything to address it.

[2] I am hardly the first one to pick up on this tone. I think it comes from a sincere desire to help (“we (white people) made this mess, and it is up to us to fix it!”), but it easily becomes patronizing (“we know what is best for you; step aside and let us come make your lives better”) and denies people of color of agency and dignity.

Ranking The Chronicles of Narnia, Part 5: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

We are now halfway through a series of posts in which I am ranking the different volumes of C.S. Lewis’s masterpiece, The Chronicles of Narnia. So far, I have covered The Magician’s NephewThe Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, The Horse and His Boyand Prince Caspian.

To evaluate each book, I am using a rubric with four different categories: story, characters, worldcraft, and theology. For each category, I will provide a subscore of 1-10, yielding a cumulative maximum score of 40 points.

I have been following the chronological order of the books (even though I don’t consider that to be the best order in which to read the books), which means that this week, I will be ranking The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (VDT). I think this was my third time to read VDT, and it remains one of my favorites of the Narnia series.

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

This is from a series of brilliant Narnia cover designs by Jeffrey Nguyen

Story

Some may feel differently, but I have always enjoyed the narrative flow of VDT. It is a story of exploration in the form of a sea voyage to remote and undiscovered lands, and of course, this voyage is paralleled by the spiritual journeys of the characters themselves.

As the book begins, Edmund and Lucy Pevensie are staying with their cousin Eustace.[1] The three children are suddenly taken up into Narnia through a painting of a ship at sea hanging on the wall of a bedroom. The three children find themselves in the ocean near the Dawn Treader, a Narnian ship upon which they are quickly taken aboard, and where they find King Caspian, Reepicheep, and other Narnians. The Dawn Treader is in the midst of a sea voyage with two goals. First and foremost, the mission is to locate the seven lost Lords of Narnia (who had been friends and supporters of Caspian’s father, but exiled or encouraged to leave by his uncle Miraz). But in addition to that mission (and ultimately, more important than it) is Reepicheep’s goal of finding Aslan’s Country beyond the seas, in the “utter East.”

The narrative arc of VDT is somewhat repetitive, as Caspian, his friends, and his crew sail from one island to another, gradually meeting (or finding the remains of) all of the lost lords and experiencing significant trials and transformative experiences along the way. However, the variety of the places they visit, the characters they meet, and the trials they face combine in such a way that the story doesn’t seem repetitive at all: it is interesting and gripping throughout, and also cultivates a building anticipation as the Dawn Treader grows increasingly closer to Aslan’s Country.

Story: 9/10

Characters

As is always the case in The Chronicles of Narnia, human children from our world feature prominently in VDT; in this instance, it is Edmund and Lucy Pevensie, along with their cousin, Eustace Scrubb.

Eustace is a major character in VDT, especially early in the book, so we will start with him. The opening line of the book is an all-time great:

“There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.” (1)

Lewis then goes on to explain just why this Eustace fellow is so unlikeable:

“His parents called him Eustace Clarence and masters called him Scrubb. I can’t tell you how his friends spoke to him, for he had none. He didn’t call his Father and Mother “Father” and “Mother,” but Harold and Alberta. They were very up-to-date and advanced people. They were vegetarians, non-smokers and teetotalers and wore a special kind of underclothes. In their house there was very little furniture and very few clothes on beds and the windows were always open.

Eustace Clarence liked animals, especially beetles, if they were dead and pinned on a card. He liked books if they were books of information and had pictures of grain elevators or of fat foreign children doing exercises in model schools.

Eustace Clarence disliked his cousins the four Pevensies, Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy.” (1-2)

In addition to clueing us in to some character traits that Lewis himself apparently didn’t think too highly of, he gives us the impression of an annoying little boy, but one who largely seems to be so due to the influence of his annoying parents. Perhaps this is unsurprising, because adults can be pragmatic and unimaginative in a way that can be a barrier to faith, but there may be a glimmer of hope in this description as well: if freed from the influence of his parents, perhaps there is hope for Eustace.

His time in Narnia doesn’t begin well. He insults the honor of Reepicheep, complains about everything, and is constantly seasick. He refuses (or is unable) to acknowledge the reality of Narnia, and keeps asking to see the British consulate. Finally, everything comes to a head when they reach Dragon Island, where, upon discovering the hoard of a dead dragon, Eustace greedily stuffs his pockets with treasure before falling asleep. He awakens to discover that he has become a dragon. In his dragonish state, Eustace begins to reevaluate things. He realizes that his cousins and shipmates weren’t so bad after all, and that it was really he himself who had been acting beastly all along. Eustace begins to change his behavior, and now seeks to help his friends. But it is not until he encounters Aslan that he is able to return to human form, and this only occurs when Aslan uses his claws to cut through his dragon skin in painful fashion, throws him into a pool of water, and then dresses him in new clothes. Later, Eustace describes his experience with the Lion to his cousin Edmund:

“What do you think it was, then?” asked Eustace.

“I think you’ve seen Aslan,” said Edmund.

“Aslan!” said Eustace. “I’ve heard that name mentioned several times since we joined the Dawn Treader. And I felt—I don’t know what—I hated it. But I was hating everything then. And by the way, I’d like to apologize. I’m afraid I’ve been pretty beastly.”

“That’s all right,” said Edmund. “Between ourselves, you haven’t been as bad as I was on my first trip to Narnia. You were only an ass, but I was a traitor.” (117)

The whole experience transforms Eustace, and he is dramatically different for the rest of the book. In fact, the book closes with this description:

“…Back in our own world everyone soon started saying how Eustace had improved, and how “You’d never know him for the same boy”: everyone except Aunt Alberta, who said he had become very commonplace and tiresome and it must have been the influence of those Pevensie children.” (270-71)[2]

Lucy shows some familiar character traits from previous novels. Moved by compassion, she uses her vial of magical healing liquid on two occasions to bring relief to Eustace. She also shows her spunk and courage when she gets in between Edmund and Caspian when they quarrel at Deathwater Island.

But Lucy also struggles. On the Magician’s Island, she is tempted to use a spell to make herself beautiful, and is only prevented from doing so by the image of an unhappy Aslan. She gives in to a lesser temptation to spy on her classmates at school, and damages a relationship with a friend in the process. And like everyone else (except, perhaps, Reepicheep) she is plagued by terror at the Dark Island.

Edmund takes somewhat of a backseat in VDT, but does show up in key moments. It is Edmund to whom Eustace reveals his transformation, and Edmund responds with comfort and understanding. Later, Edmund opposes the foolish behavior of Caspian on two occasions, but it is unclear how pure his motives are: both times, he ruffles at the implication that he is subject to Caspian, and we are left realizing that Edmund still has some growing to do.

Caspian is now three years older than he was in PC, is a confident king rather than an inexperienced youth, and is possessed with the spirit of adventure and obligation as he leads the expedition to explore the Great Eastern Ocean in search of the seven lost lords of Narnia. On the whole, he shows wisdom and courage, but he struggles as well in VDT. First, at Deathwater Island, he is tempted by greed and desires to seize the magic pool that turns everything to gold. Ultimately, Aslan appears and Caspian comes to his senses. Later, Caspian is tempted to go to Aslan’s Country with Reepicheep and to shirk his duties as king in order to do so. Again, it is an appearance from Aslan that sets him straight.

Reepicheep was previously introduced in PC, but is a much more central character in VDT. All of his previous characteristics are on display again—his bravery, daring, keen sense of honor—but most prominent is his devotion to Aslan, and his desire to travel to Aslan’s Country:

“My own plans are made. While I can, I sail east in the Dawn Treader. When she fails me, I paddle east in my coracle. When she sinks, I shall swim east with my four paws. And when I can swim no longer, if I have not reached Aslan’s country, or shot over the edge of the world in some vast cataract, I shall sink with my nose to the sunrise and Peepiceek will be head of the talking mice in Narnia.” (231)

All of the other events of the book—dragons, gold, sea serpents, lost Narnian lords, and the rest—cannot distract Reepicheep from his singled-minded goal: to reach Aslan’s Country and forever dwell in the presence of the Lion.

Aslan appears more frequently in VDT than in the other books, but for brief periods each time, and generally, at a time of crisis or a moment of transformation for the various characters. He appears to Eustace and frees him of his dragon skin. He appears to Caspian, Edmund, and company on Deathwater and brings an end to their argument. He appears to Lucy on the Magician’s Island, helping her to overcome one temptation and to understand the consequences of her actions in giving into another. In response to a prayer from Lucy on the Dark Island, he encourages her. When Caspian seeks to abdicate the throne, he offers correction. And when it is time for Edmund, Lucy, and Eustace to leave Narnia (and for Edmund and Lucy to never return), he gives them spiritual guidance in their own country. In short, in a book about the journey of faith (see Theology section below), Aslan is a co-traveler and guide who shows up in the journeys of various characters, granting what is needed in the moment. It is a typically apt characterization.

Characters: 9/10

Worldcraft

Although I consider VDT to be all-around excellent, I think this is its strongest area. It significantly expands the world of Narnia by taking is us into the Great Eastern Ocean, to never-before-discovered places and then even beyond the world of Narnia itself, giving us glimpses of Aslan’s Country.

The Lone Islands are intriguing. Unlike the other places the Dawn Treader will visit, these islands are not totally new. They were the previously-known “ends of the earth” and were technically under the authority of Narnia. But Miraz feared Aslan, the sea, and everything from the East, and it had been a long time since Narnia had exercised jurisdiction over the Lone Islands. In the meantime, the Islands have come under the influence of Calormen and now practice the slave trade (really, these are the only villains in VDT). Caspian and his forces stage a coup and insert Lord Bern as the Duke of the Long Islands.

After leaving the Lone Islands, though, everything is totally new: it is now a voyage of discovery. Dragons, sea serpents, and water that turns everything submerged in it to gold add to the mystery and enchantment of the journey. On another island, we discover the delightful Dufflepuds, and are introduced to the notion of a former star who now rules them as punishment. The Dawn Treader then stumbles upon the Dark Island, where dreams actually come true (which means that nightmares come true), and then encounter another former star, Ramandu, who lives with his daughter on the Island of the Star, where they sing the sunrise each morning.

As the journey continues, they encounter merpeople, water that is now sweet rather than salty, and an increasing shallowness to the sea. Eventually, only the three children and Reepicheep are allowed to continue in the ship’s small boat, and they move ahead through a sea of lilies until they reach a wave of water that extends into the sky like a waterfall. Beyond that, they catch glimpses of impossibly-high green mountains: Aslan’s Country.

The nature of the journey means that we don’t get to dwell long and fully explore any one location, but the sheer number of novel places, the wondrous discoveries, and the expansion of the world of Narnia that we experience renders a high score in this category.

Worldcraft: 9.5/10

Theology

I have mentioned this multiple times in this series, but late in his life, C.S. Lewis wrote a letter in which he provided a brief overview of The Chronicles from a spiritual perspective. Describing VDT, he said it was about the spiritual journey, and that this was especially seen in the character of Reepicheep.[3] While the valiant mouse is doggedly determined in his quest for Aslan, the other significant characters are on spiritual journeys of their own, and must repeatedly face their own flaws and overcome them with the assistance of the Great Lion:

“In contrast to other Narnia books, Dawn Treader has virtually no overt villains, other than the slavers in the very beginning who are quickly overcome and disposed of. Rather, the plot confronts the protagonists again and again with the flaws of their own character. Eustace’s greediness and general bad behavior cause him to turn into a dragon, and he must work hard to show himself worthy of becoming human again; Caspian is tempted to seize the magic pool which turns everything to gold—which would have turned Caspian himself into a greedy tyrant ready to kill in order to preserve his power and wealth; later, Caspian faces the nobler but still wrong-headed temptation to go off to Aslan’s Country and abandon his responsibilities as a King; Lucy is tempted to make herself magically beautiful, which would have led to her becoming the focus of terrible wars devastating Narnia and all its neighbors; and having resisted this temptation, she succumbs to a lesser temptation to magically spy on her schoolmates—and is punished by hearing malicious things and destroying what could have developed into an enduring nice friendship.…Edmund, who had undergone a very severe test of his character on his first arrival in Narnia, is spared such an experience in the present book, and acts as the most mature and grown-up member of the group.”[4]

Through the various characters, Lewis highlights different aspects of the spiritual journey.

In Reepicheep, we see the ideal: despite everything that surrounds him, he “seeks first the kingdom of God.” Above all else, he wants to dwell in the presence of Aslan. It is his greatest goal, ever present at the forefront of his mind.

In Eustace, we see the cost of spiritual transformation and rebirth. As Aslan cuts through Eustace’s dragon skin, I have always thought of the image of Jesus pruning branches in John 15, and the inherent pain of that metaphor. Then, in a clear baptismal scene, Aslan “kills” Eustace’s old, dragonish self, buries him in water, and then dresses him as a new creation.

In Lucy, we see the importance of gracious judgment. Through magic, Lucy spied on her classmates and heard one of her friends make hurtful statements about her. Lucy calls her a “two-faced little beast”, but is later chastened by Aslan:

“‘Spying on people by magic is the same as spying on them in any other way. And you have misjudged your friend. She is weak, but she loves you. She was afraid of the older girl and said what she doesn’t mean.’” (170)

In Caspian, we also see the unfortunate reality that part of the spiritual journey is saying goodbye to fellow travelers with whom we would prefer to travel longer. Caspian is determined to travel with his friends to the end of the world and into Aslan’s Country, even if it means deserting his duties as king. Aslan appears to Caspian to gently correct him, and we see Caspian’s motivations more clearly when he describes the encounter to his friends:

“It’s no good,” he said. “I might as well have behaved decently for all the good I did with my temper and swagger. Aslan has spoken to me. No—I don’t mean he was actually here. He wouldn’t fit into the cabin, for one thing. But that gold lion’s head on the wall came to life and spoke to me. It was terrible—his eyes. Not that he was at all rough with me—only a bit stern at first. But it was terrible all the same. And he said—he said—oh, I can’t bear it. The worst thing he could have said. You’re to go on—Reep and Edmund, and Lucy, and Eustace; and I’m to go back. Alone. And at once. And what is the good of anything?”

“Caspian, dear,” said Lucy. “You knew we’d have to go back to our own world sooner or later.”

“Yes,” said Caspian with a sob, “but this is sooner.” (262-63)

In a fallen world marked by the painful realities of sin and death, it is a sad fact that a significant part of life is saying goodbye to some of the people we most care about.

And finally, in multiple characters (Eustace, Lucy, Caspian, even Edmund), we see that often, as we progress through the spiritual journeys of our lives, our greatest opposition comes not from without, but within: our own internal flaws and inclination toward sin must be addressed and overcome, and this can only be done with the help of Aslan. As one author points out in reflecting upon this:

“I will leave us with this: I grew up in religious culture, and so often I was told that I needed to stop being a dragon. It was a sort of moralistic teaching that said something like, “Stop being a dragon and come to Aslan.” But if I could stop being a dragon myself, what need did I have of Aslan? I’ve been a minister for over twenty years and I’ve met a lot of dark places in a lot of broken hearts, including my own. I don’t know where you may be on your journey, whether stuck at sea, or lost in darkness, or in some place better or worse than that. But I do know this: you are not alone. Aslan, whether you see the great lion or not (“I was always here”), and whether you know the great lion or not (“follow me” he said to Eustace, not even saying his own name), and whether you feel hope or despair…there is a lamb, an albatross, a painting, a picture, a lion, or whatever you need Aslan to be. I believe Aslan will take that form to bring us hope. To free us from our dragon skin. To show us the way out of darkness. To give us what we need to know peace.”[5]

Aslan’s final appearance to the three children has strong echoes of John 21.[6] After Reepicheep has paddled into Aslan’s Country, the three children walk to dry land where the heavens seem to meet earth. Aslan appears to them as a Lamb and invites them to breakfast.

He tells the children that it is time for them to return home, and that Lucy and Edmund will never return: they are too old, reminiscent of what Peter and Susan are told at the end of PCEdmund and Lucy have learned all they can in Narnia, and now, it is time for them to come to know Aslan in their own world:

“Are—are you there too, Sir?” said Edmund.

“I am,” said Aslan. “But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.” (270)

It is for this reason that Edmund and Lucy were brought to Narnia, and it is the same reason that we, the readers, are taken there by Lewis: that having seen Aslan in Narnia, we can better know in our own lives the Lion who is also a Lamb, and that we, with the determination of Reepicheep, may seek first His kingdom and live eternally with Him Someday.

Theology: 9/10

With a score of 36.5/40, VDT is an excellent book, and in my ranking system, resides as a near neighbor in the stratosphere of LWW and HHBfitting in between those two books. Unlike those two books, VDT did not receive a perfect 10 in any subcategory, but it got consistent high scores all around: no real weaknesses. On Amazon, this would be a clear 5-star rating.


[1]  We learned in PC that Peter and Susan would not be returning to Narnia. Here, we are told that Susan is traveling with her parents in America, and that Peter is studying to prepare for an exam with the help of Professor Digory Kirke (of MN fame).

[2] Although several characters receive significant attention in VDT, I would argue that Eustace is the main character, as evidenced by the way that content about him frames the entire novel. Hopefully, that justifies me spending so much time on him here!

[3] Paul Ford, Companion to Narnia: Revised Edition (San Franciso: HarperCollins, 2005): 6.

[4] Sue Baines, “Moral and educational themes in the Narnia and Harry Potter books” in Gerald Sumner (ed.) “Round Table on the Development of Twentieth Century Fantasy”.

I do not believe, though, that Edmund comes off as spotless as Baines claims. As I described in the Characters section, in both of the instances where Caspian acts foolishly, Edmund opposes him. He was right to do so, but his opposition is based on his own pride and position: in both instances, Edmund asserts that he is no subject of Caspian’s. This echoes the dark side of Edmund’s character in LWW, and I think should give us caution before fully approving of his behavior here: to do the right thing (oppose Caspian’s foolishness) for the wrong reason (out of a competitive sense of pride) is, ultimately, to do the wrong thing.

[5] Matt Mikalotos, “Eustace Was a Dragon All Along,” in The Great C.S. Lewis RereadI have mentioned this before, but Mikalotos is writing a great series of articles on The Chronicles of Narnia. He covers a lot of stuff that I don’t get into in my own series here.

[6] The parallels with John 21 are numerous and striking. The image of Aslan serving breakfast clearly echoes Jesus serving breakfast to His apostles, and Aslan’s appearance as a Lamb echoes the language Jesus uses with Peter. We see further echoes of Jesus’ conversation with Peter in Aslan telling the children unpleasant news (they will not return to Narnia/Peter will be killed for his faith), giving them a task (to discover Aslan in their own country/to shepherd the flock), and gently refraining from telling them the destiny of others (not speaking of whether or not Eustace will return to Narnia/not telling Peter what will happen to John).

Lament For A Son: Lament As Love Song

As I mentioned previously, I recently finished Nicholas Wolterstorff’s excellent Lament For A SonI enjoyed the book so much that rather than do a standard review, I decided to do a series of short posts based on some of the different ideas the book discusses.

In the preface at the beginning of the Lament For A Son (written more than a decade after the death of his son), Wolterstorff speaks of the lasting nature of grief, and of lament as well.

Grief is a lingering wound:

“Rather often I am asked whether the grief remains as intense as when I wrote. The answer is, No. The wound is no longer raw. But it has not disappeared. That is at it should be. If he was worth loving, he is worth grieving over. Grief is existential testimony to the worth of the one loved. That worth abides.” (5)

A lot has been written about grief, and there are several generally-agreed upon principles: there is no single “correct” way to grieve; there is no proscribed pattern for how to “get through it”; no fixed timeline for how long grief lasts; there are healthier and less-healthy ways to deal with grief.

Grief is not fun; it does not make us happy, but as Wolterstorff references above, there is something good and valuable about it because it testifies to the worth of the person we are grieving over. The person worth loving is worth grieving over. I would suggest that lament is a healthy response to grief, and in a similar vein, lament is rooted in and motivated by love:

“A friend told me that he had given copies of Lament to all of his children. “Why did you do that?” I asked. “Because it is a love-song,” he said. That took me aback. But Yes, it is a love-song. Every lament is a love-song.

Will love-songs one day no longer be laments?” (6)

It is love that prompts us to lament. We mourn the loss of a family member, we grieve the life-threatening illness of a dear friend, we cry out at the injustice that plagues the oppressed, we react in shock and sympathy at the indifferent destruction of natural disasters. Love of neighbor—a kingdom value—prompts us to look around at our world of Sin and Death and lament that God’s kingdom has not yet come “on earth as it is in heaven.”

But Christian hope prompts us to look ahead:

1 Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. 3 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. 4 He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

5 And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.”

(Revelation 21.1-5a)

Will love-songs one day no longer be laments? The testimony of Scripture says yes: we await a Day when every tear will be wiped from our eyes, when death shall be no more, and neither shall there be crying, mourning, nor pain.

But Love will remain. The God who is Love will make His dwelling among us.

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