It is interesting to me how important it feels to have a significant Christmas this year. Some people would probably understand it if our family decided to bypass the holiday at least this year, but we will not. I have been trying to figure out why.

For some the answer would be, "that's what mom would want," and that is true. However, I don't think we feel bound by that sentiment. Instead, it is clear that it is what we want.

Christmas has to transcend our desire for a good feeling. Holiday is a more than a diversion, it is an observance. It is the imposition of a good thing into our lives, especially the darkness of our lives.

The incarnation is real regardless of the turns in our lives. We may not adequately see it, but it is like clean air or healthy water. It's presence may not inspire the gratitude it deserves, but it is no less crucial, and sometime we will recognize it and be thankful for it. If we neglect it, we will later wish we had not.

So, what does a deeply well thought Christian theologian have to say about the ancient gods of Greece? Well, in the words of the children, I wouldn't want to run into Bacchus or his wild women without Aslan around. The whole book seems to run toward wild parties, parties in the world's sense of the word. It would be a hard problem for a tea totaller.

In the parties of Narnia, Lewis attempts to recapture the exuberance of true and unrestrained faith. Joy is a virtue that many Christians have a hard time reclaiming, in spite of the liberty we have in Christ. Lewis tries to paint a picture that subjects the pagan gods to the One True God, that is they are subject to Him, but have the capability of being "misplaced" as it were, in the hearts of people, just like parties and wine.

In all, Caspian is a tale of rightful places, Caspian taking his rightful place as king, the talking animals taking their rightful places as the primary residents of Narnia, Peter and family taking their rightful places as legends and rulers, the Telmarines finally taking their rightful places as people of Earth rather than Narnia.

One could get the impression, as Aslan frees children and teachers from tedious schools, that Lewis was anti-education, but, of course, he was an educator of the highest caliber and was simply anti-bad education. On the whole, Lewis is against bondage. As Aslan routes through Narnia leading victory in his wake, people are freed not only from restrictive classrooms, but from physical abuse, and from sickness. The rightful place of humanity, once again, is in a place of liberty.

Liberty, of course, is defined by a relationship of obedience to Aslan. Here we are faced again with the paradox, freedom in service. Not freedom to sin, but freedom from it. As Lucy so eloquently learns that she was free to ignore Aslan, but only found hardship and trouble. When she followed Him, she found unexpected delight, true paths.

For children, these paths are defined in terms of power. Power of Caspian over his bad father figure uncle Miraz, power of Peter to defeat him. Power of the animals to take a place analogous to that of humanity in our world, power for Lucy, even as a child to defy the unbelief of those older and wiser than she.

Caspian gives many more lessons and images. I am intrigued by the similarity of the Pevense children finding their way into a magic world at a train station as does a boy, popular in more current children's literature. For all children, magical worlds are places of freedom and power: Freedom from the bonds of a world ruled by the unimaginative, and power to believe in that which they cannot see. Of such is the kingdom of heaven.

I've often, in my life, found that I could read when I couldn't do anything else. Right now, I am reading three books. One is on the American National Park system and how it came about. Another is called Columbus: The Great Adventure. This is an English translation of an Italian book. I'm learning from both of these. The third is Prince Caspian. I missed the movie, and intend to buy the DVD and also to do a message series based upon the story. This is the second time I've read Prince Caspian and am enjoying becoming reacquainted with the characters and the plot.

What are you reading?

• When going to a viewing, not knowing what to say really is ok. It sounds like a cliche' but the presence of people, especially those who also held Mary Anne in high regard, was comforting. If you don't know what to say, don't say anything; or a simple, "I'm very sorry" is ok.
• Look carefully when pulling out of a driveway. Somebody didn't, and it had a devestating effect on Mom. The whole family's driving is a little more intentional. Yesterday I was trying to go straight where a person wanted to make an illegal turn. I was safe at that moment, but I was almost paralyzed. Drive a little more intentionally.
• Let your family take pictures of you. We wish we had more pics of Mom. Some people, because they are shy, or humble, or sooo good looking they are tired of the Paparazzi, don't like to have their pics taken. The pic isn't about you, it is about the values of the person taking the picture, the value  your loved ones place on you. It is a compliment, not to your appearance (though it may be), but to your cherished place in a heart.
• Stick with your family in times of grief. It may be tempting to go off alone and grieve in private. It is better to have someone to hug. And they need you.
• Offer specific kinds of help to people in grief. They may not be thinking clearly of what needs to be done. They will be grateful for the offer whether or not they accept. Respect their desires if they say no. They are not at their best or most tactful and may have a hard time expressing why, but they will have deep emotional (if not logical) reasons.
• When you are in grief, people's offers of help are not empty gestures. They are sincere, practical expressions of concern. Don't be shy about accepting the help. They will feel they have contributed to your healing, and they're probably right.
• Avoid the phrase (some people actually said this to me), "life goes on." It is a belittling insult to the memory of the deceased. Their life did not go on. And to the grieving, life going on is only a moderately positive outlook, if that.

Many of our friends have extended their compassion to us this week since the death of Dawn's mother last Saturday. The compounding of grief with the death of Amy's daughter on Friday made the week even more difficult. Time has been odd. It has been over a week since our trouble came, and it seems like yesterday. Remembering which day specific things happened is challenging.

At times like this, as many can attest, God seems distant. Meaning is elusive. Comfort is a thing to grasp when it appears and hold until it inevitably slips away.

In chaotic times, what we learned in repose becomes vitally important. What we feel denies emphatically what we know. Which do we believe, the ivory tower reflections of theologians we've never met or our immediate personal experience? The cold, detached, cerebral constructs of strangers or the cold, harsh absence of our loved ones?

Please continue to pray for Dawn, Paul, Ruth and me, for Amy and Jeffrey and for all who grieve. Our needs are emotional and spiritual. It likely seems odd to many for a pastor to say this, but the truth is that all people struggle in their grief. At different times different things seem more true: now, the salvation and wisdom of God in Mary Anne's death is true and real, now, the pain of personal loss and abandonment seems more real.

Faith will prevail because God cannot fail. In the mean time, we will trust the best we can.