A Choice ~ Opt for the "Play World"

I’m a Coloradan, through and through – and I love this beautiful nation we call America.  But one of my very favorite places isn’t actually in Colorado, or even in the United States.  In fact, it’s not in this world at all.  It’s a place where animals talk, fauns and centaurs fight on the good side, minotaurs usually fight on the good side, dwarves wear their beards long and fight for whichever side will let them alone, the trees may be awakened to sing and walk about; and children, when they find their way there from our world, are given great responsibility and sent on magical adventures.  The ruler of the whole land is the beautiful, terrifying, majestic, and good—certainly not tame, but good—king of beasts.

If you know me well at all you may be wondering what happened to me.  Don’t worry, I definitely still love The Lord of the Rings trilogy—it is a more intense, complex, epic story and I will never stop loving it—but Narnia will always hold a special place in my heart.  I’d like to share one of my favorite stories with you.  If you think you know where I’m going and would rather skip to the punchline, be my guest, but I never get tired of this story from The Silver Chair, the sixth book of C.S. Lewis’s seven Chronicles of Narnia.

Meet Puddleglum the Marsh-Wiggle.  In case you don’t know, a Marsh-Wiggle is a tall, froggy sort of person who lives in marshy places; and one important thing that you can’t see from the picture is Puddleglum’s large, tough, webbed feet.  You also can’t see that Puddleglum is a rather pessimistic marsh-wiggle: he expects the very worst outcome of every situation.  The Silver Chair is the story of Puddleglum and two children who set out to find and rescue the lost Prince of Narnia.  It’s a wonderful story, but I must speed through it a bit.  They eventually find the Prince, under a spell in a place called the Underworld which, as the name implies, is deep under Narnia.  They break the spell (by breaking the Silver Chair, which happens to be an evil, enchanted chair) and free the Prince; but before they can get out the Enchantress returns.  She is a beautiful Lady, and when she enters the room and sees what has happened – the chair broken, the Prince freed, and an odd trio standing about with swords drawn – she doesn’t say a word.  Instead, she goes calmly over to the fireplace and tosses some green powder into the fire, then picks up her mandolin and begins to strum it.  As the air fills with a sweet smell and the enchantment begins to take its hold on the four companions, the Lady begins to ask questions.

She asks questions that make them doubt what they believe and where they came from – the existence of the “Overworld,” the stars, the sun, the fresh air (for the air is by this time very heavy with the enchanting smell, making it hard for them to think), and finally the Great Lion himself.  Then, on page 189 (the Enchantress entered the room on page 180), the Witch – for a Witch indeed she is – seems to be completing her enchantment.

The Prince and the two children were standing with their heads hung down, their cheeks flushed, their eyes half closed; the strength all gone from them; the enchantment was almost complete.  But Puddleglum, desperately gathering all his strength, walked over to the fire.  Then he did a very brave thing.  He knew it wouldn’t hurt him quite as much as it would hurt a human; for his feet (which were bare) were webbed and hard and cold-blooded like a duck’s.  Bud he knew it would hurt him badly enough; and so it did.  With his bare foot he stamped on the fire, grinding a large part of it into ashes on the flat hearth.  And three things happened at once. 

First, the sweet, heavy smell grew very much less.  For though the whole fire had not been put out, a good bit of it had, and what remained smelled very largely of burnt Marsh-Wiggle, which is not at all an enchanting smell.  This instantly made everyone’s brain far clearer.  The Prince and the children held up their heads and opened their eyes.

Secondly, the Witch, in a loud, terrible voice, utterly different from all the sweet tones she had been using up till now, called out, “What are you doing?  Dare to touch my fire again, mud-filth, and I’ll turn the blood to fire inside your veins.”

Thirdly, the pain itself made Puddleglum’s head for a moment perfectly clear and he knew exactly what he really thought.  There is nothing like a good shock of pain for dissolving certain kinds of magic.

“One word, Ma’am,” he said, coming back from the fire; limping, because of the pain.  “One word.  All you’ve been saying is quite right, I shouldn’t wonder.  I’m a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it.  So I won’t deny any of what you said.  But there’s one thing more to be said, even so.  Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things—trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself.  Suppose we have.  Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones.  Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world.  Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one.  And that’s a funny thing, when you come to think of it.  We’re just babies making up a game if you’re right.  But four babies making up a game can make a play-world that licks your real world hollow.  That’s why I’m going to stand by the play-world.

“I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it.  I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia.”

Now, I am certain, you see my thought trajectory.  America is being overwhelmed by an evil enchantment.  Call it secularism.  Call it Common Core.  Call it welfare dependence.  Call it whatever you want.  The important part is that you and I, and every American, are faced with a choice.  We can stand by and be overwhelmed by the enchantment – we can believe that our history never happened and our faith is a lie.  Or we can stamp out the fire and opt for the better world, even if it’s painful – even if they say it’s make believe.

I’m on Christ’s side, even if He doesn’t exist to lead it.  I’m going to live as like a Christian American as I can, even if America never was a Christian nation.

Are you with me?