November 13, 2009 § 1 Comment
A passing cloud covered the sun, but this I know not because I see, but because for that moment my room was a shade darker. “Is that you God?” I ask, and it seems, almost immediately, as if in answer to my question, the room was covered in brightness once again. I sat on my bed, bathed in that brightness, feeling something rising deep within.
For that moment, I was a child again. Sitting on my bed, bathed in the sunlight, thinking how God is the God of Magic. Not magic as it has been tainted by humans, but good magic, the kind of magic which fairytales only remind you of, the kind of magic that C.S.Lewis writes of in the Chronicles of Narnia. At this point, it seems clear that there is another world which I belong to, and that though I’m here, I have many reminders of that world. It is vague now, and I cannot describe that world, only knowing that if I should enter, I should enter into the world I have, mostly in my imagination-filled childhood, tasted morsels of. I see it in the Eucharist, that almost secret understanding I have between me and my Lord– His way of showing that He loves me, even though for most of the time, it seems to me that I am here and He is there. I see it in the bible, the love letter He writes to me. A kind of book, though it was written years back, still enables conversations with me and my Lord whenever I open it. Funny how I had come to see it to be a long dreary collection of books to be analysed intellectually. The way I feel now is, if you recall it well, can be compared to the excitement and assuredness a child has when she speaks of her imaginary friend. Surely no one understands it, thinking it all make-believe, but that is what makes it all more sacred—the relationship belongs to only the child and her friend, so no one can understand it. It was meant to be that way.
The realisation that Christianity is not complicated descends upon me. It is a love story, a story of magic, it is real, and quite importantly, I am in that story. Even so, there is so much more to be discovered. But it is not beyond us, a reality separated from us.
I fear being thrown back into ‘reality’, as I know I will, when I hear of the evil and sadness that has come into the world. Yet there is a secret place in my heart, which I go to when I’m silent with myself, and this secret place is where the world cannot touch. It is there He dwells.
“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3)