This past Sunday we thought about a seeming contradiction at the center of who God is – loving and abundant in mercy, yet relentless in justice and fierce in fury. It sounds like having water and fire occupying the same space. One scholar said, “It is this contradiction that makes the God of the Bible interesting, credible, and dangerous.” Must we accept such a God? Dare we come to such a God?
This predicament is captured well in C.S. Lewis’ fictional work The Silver Chair, which is Book 6 in The Chronicles of Narnia. Jill Pole finds herself, unbeknownst to her, in Aslan’s country. She has no prior knowledge of Aslan (the lion who serves as a metaphor for Christ). All she knows is that she’s lost and alone in a strange woods with a lion prowling around. She’s exhausted and dreadfully thirsty, to the point of danger. She must find running water. Finally, “she came to an open glade and saw a stream, bright as glass, running across the turf a stone’s throw away from her.
But although the sight of water made her feel ten times thirstier than before, she didn’t rush forward and drink. She stood as still as if she had been turned into stone, with her mouth wide open. And she had a very good reason: just on this side of the stream lay the lion.
…‘If I run away, it’ll be after me in a moment,’ thought Jill. ‘And if I go on, I shall run straight into its mouth.’ Anyway, she couldn’t have moved if she had tried, and she couldn’t take her eyes off it. How long this lasted, she could not be sure; it seemed like hours. And the thirst became so bad that she almost felt she would not mind being eaten by the lion if only she could be sure of getting a mouthful of water first.
‘If you’re thirsty, you may drink.’
…For a second she stared here and there, wondering who had spoken. Then the voice said again, ‘If you are thirsty, come and drink.’…It was deeper, wilder, and stronger; a sort of heavy, golden voice. It did not make her any less frightened than she had been before, but it made her frightened in rather a different way.
‘Are you not thirsty?’ said the Lion.
‘I’m dying of thirst,’ said Jill.
‘Then drink,’ said the Lion.
‘May I — could I — would you mind going away while I do?’ said Jill.
The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience. The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.
‘Will you promise not to – do anything to me, if I do come?’ said Jill.
‘I make no promise,’ said the Lion. Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.
‘Do you eat girls? she asked.
‘I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,’ said the Lion. It didn’t say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.
‘I daren’t come and drink,’ said Jill.
‘Then you will die of thirst,’ said the Lion.
‘Oh dear!’ said Jill, coming another step nearer. ‘I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.’
‘There is no other stream,’ said the Lion.
It never occurred to Jill to disbelieve the Lion – no one who had seen his stern face could do that – and her mind suddenly made itself up. It was the worst thing she had ever had to do, but she went forward to the stream, knelt down, and began scooping up water in her hand. It was the coldest, most refreshing water she had ever tasted. You didn’t need to drink much of it, for it quenched your thirst at once.”
Like Jill, we find ourselves in God’s world, dying of thirst. There is life-giving water to drink, but we would prefer to have it without God. He refuses. We can see very well that he’s not safe. We don’t understand how he’s told us he’s acted in history – bringing plagues, conquest, terrors on his enemies. And yet he invites us to drink. Can we trust that he is good? We must. And if we are willing to accept that our notions of a domesticated God aren’t necessarily the right definition of “good”, we then discover our thirst is satisfied, and we are given deep purpose, true identity, and joyful belonging in an unshakeable kingdom. As is repeated throughout the Chronicles of Narnia: “He is not a tame lion. Of course he isn’t safe; but he is good!”