Many of you are familiar with the fact that I stopped using an alarm clock almost four years ago. It’s been a neat journey and I have learned the steadfastness and faithfulness of God to wake me each morning. I confess that after all these years, after 1400 days of being woken on time, I still have moments of mistrust. On the mornings when it matters that I am awake by a certain time, God and I have a little dialogue I tell God my preferences for when He should wake me. On my doubting nights, I contemplate setting an alarm on “only this occasion.” In the end, I have always looked back on the 1400± days He hasn’t failed me and tell Him I’m choosing to trust Him once again. I also tell Him that the first time He fails me, I’ll go back to the crutch of having an alarm clock. On my most mistrusting nights, I wake up every other hour because on those nights, I really still want control and think He needs a little help.
Earlier this week, I was scheduled to do an airport drop off where I was to pick the student up at 5:00 am which meant I would need to leave my house around 4:30 am. Because of my current life situation, I am in the habit of staying up until midnight and waking between 7 and 8 am which is a far stretch from the 4 o’clock hour. Nonetheless, I went to bed early and was fully confident that after 1400 or so days, my God would be faithful to wake me again. I slept long and hard. I awoke while it was still dark and figured I should check the time to see how much longer I had left to sleep. To my surprise and panic, the clock said 5:00! I jumped out of bed, threw on some clothes, grabbed my things and bolted out of the door. As I drove to pick up the van, I was a little frustrated and on the verge of crying. How could God let me down like that? Did he really want me to become enslaved again to my alarm clock? What happened to His faithfulness?
I was able to pick the student up by around 5:20. As the sun peaked over the horizon, my foot held the gas pedal steady, and my student slept, I began to name my gifts.
I’m thankful for a quiet morning drive.
I’m thankful for the sweet spirit and unique voice of this young student I’ve had the privilege of knowing these past few weeks.
I’m thankful for the muted pastel colors of the dawn.
I’m thankful for the fog floating over the passing rivers.
I’m thankful for the surprise ball of light in my rearview mirror.
I’m thankful I was only 15 minutes late and that my lateness did not cause the student to miss a flight.
I’m thankful that I was awoken no later than 5.
I’m thankful for the realization that even though I feel like God woke me up late, maybe He did so because He’s protecting me from a bad accident, from a deer jumping out in front of me, from a flat tire, or from a traffic jam.
We arrived at the airport and I helped my student get his boarding passes and make sure he passed the security checkpoint. When I left the airport, he still had 2 hours before the plane left which meant that God had woken me in plenty of time.
On the return trip, I listened to the audiobook of my favorite ‘Chronicles of Narnia’ book, The Horse and His Boy. My favorite part of the book played during that drive home. The book tells of the adversity endured by a boy named Shasta. Towards the end of the book, Shasta ends up on a horse, alone, lost, and lamenting his sorrows. He senses that another person/thing is walking along with him in the dark and he is scared.
“I can’t see you at all,” said Shasta, after staring very hard. Then (for an even more terrifying idea had come into his head) he said, almost in a scream, “You’re not – not something dead, are you? Oh please – please do go away. What harm have I ever done you? Oh, I am the unluckiest person in the whole world!”
Once more he felt the warm breath of the Thing on his hand and face. “There,” it said, “that is not the breath of a ghost. Tell me your sorrows.”
Shasta was a little reassured by the breath: so he told how he had never known his real father or mother and had been brought up sternly by the fisherman. And then he told the story of his escape and how they were chased by lions and forced to swim for their lives; and of all their dangers in Tashbaan and about his night among the tombs and how the beasts howled at him out of the desert. And he told about the heat and thirst of their desert journey and how they were almost at their goal when another lion chased them and wounded Aravis. And also, how very long it was since he had had anything to eat.
“I do not call you unfortunate,” said the Large Voice.
“Don’t you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.
“There was only one lion,” said the Voice.
“What on earth do you mean? I’ve just told you there were at least two the first night, and – ”
“There was only one: but he was swift of foot.”
“How do you know?”
“I was the lion.” And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. “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 mile 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.”
...Shasta was no longer afraid that the Voice belonged to something that would eat him, nor that it was the voice of a ghost. But a new and different sort of trembling came over him. Yet he felt glad too.
The mist was turning from black to gray and from gray to white. This must have begun to happen some time ago, but while he had been talking to the Thing he had not been noticing anything else. Now, the whiteness around him became a shining whiteness; his eyes began to blink. Somewhere ahead he could hear birds singing. He knew the night was over at last. He could see the mane and ears and head of his horse quite easily now. A golden light fell on them from the left. He thought it was the sun.
He turned and saw, pacing beside him, taller than the horse, a Lion. The horse did not seem to be afraid of it or else could not see it. It was from the Lion that the light came. No one ever saw anything more terrible or beautiful.
Luckily Shasta had lived all his life too far south in Calormen to have heard the tales that were whispered in Tashbaan about a dreadful Narnian demon that appeared in the form of a lion. And of course he knew none of the true stories about Aslan, the great Lion, the son of the Emperor-over-the-sea, the King above all High Kings in Narnia. But after one glance at the Lion’s face he slipped out of the saddle and fell at its feet. He couldn’t say anything but then he didn’t want to say anything, and he knew he needn’t say anything.
The High King above all kings stooped toward him. Its mane, and some strange and solemn perfume that hung about the mane, was all round him. It touched his forehead with its tongue. He lifted his face and their eyes met. Then instantly the pale brightness of the mist and the fiery brightness of the Lion rolled themselves together into a swirling glory and gathered themselves up and disappeared. He was alone with the horse on a grassy hillside under a blue sky. And there were birds singing.
I love that whole scene. I love how the Lion was with Shasta in each tiny stage of his life. I love how it reminds me that no matter how awful my circumstances seem, or if I am woken a few minutes late, God is with me, using the lateness for my good. I love that the Lion, as the King of Beasts could have torn Shasta limb from limb and yet He walked with him, relating to him, comforting him. I love that the God who should rightly pour out his wrath on me instead becomes my Father and my Friend. I love how Shasta responds with the only appropriate response kneeling in adoration. I love how the King of Beasts stooped and kissed him on the forehead in a symbol of affection rather than clamping his fanged teeth around his neck.
Later in the morning, I stopped by my weekly Bible study late. I’m glad I did. We spent a good 45 minutes discussing worship inducing topics such as this beautiful story, God’s grace, and how beautiful and whole Heaven will be. We talked about the coming new creation and how it will bring only ever increasing joy. We talked about how even the most beautiful things on this earth like the surprise of the sunrise light, overwhelming scented goodness of a forest of real pine trees, sweet and worshipful discussions, and the greatest joys of this earth are still broken. We discussed how we will have to have new bodies for heaven because our senses will not be able to function in the glory of that new and restored land. If broken sunrises on this earth are breathtaking, how would our fallen eyes be able to take in the richness of color and beauty in that new place? My nose doesn’t even work in this world so I will have to get a new one so I can smell the heavenly pine trees. We also discussed how that new land will have no more 4-day long migraines, no more open heart surgeries on babies, no more broken families, no more fear, no more loss or deferred hopes.
We ended our discussion with prayer and this word:
than those who have abundant harvests of grain and new wine. -Psalm 4:7
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