The summer of 2016 exploded with elevated anxiety nationwide regarding the upcoming election that would decide if America had the opportunity for restoration of Constitutional power, citizen liberties, justice, law and order--making American great again--or to continue on the slippery slope of national suicide and destruction of our sovereignty for absorption into the globalist New World Order that media, leftist politicians in power, and perverse social constructs had worked decades to create. I feared for my children and grandchildren. I mourned the glory and gifts of Western civilization and our noble American Christian history that had been slowly erroded in every sphere of influence in our society: government instutitions, academia, media, entertainment, business--and even the church and family. There was no place to go but the feet of my Lord--in tears. The Lord responded to my "mousy" little laments with a lion's roar. READ ON or CLICK PLAY above and listen to the audio version.
I am overwhelmed with grief at the seemingly impossible state of affairs manifesting in our nation and the world today. How far our founding landmarks have been removed! I’ve watched them be systematically replaced with evil substitutes over my lifetime of close to six decades long. I see human hearts and minds sent strong delusions, believing lies, calling right wrong and wrong right, and a host of other travesties the Bible warns us about in 2 Timothy 3:1-5 NKJV:
But know this, that in the last days perilous times will come: For men will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, unloving, unforgiving, slanderers, without self-control, brutal, despisers of good, traitors, headstrong, haughty, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having a form of godliness but denying its power. And from such people turn away!
All I know to do is to pray. But my prayer is reduced to a waterfall of tears. Words are choked back by sobs. I feel helpless and alone facing the mountains. So, I cry out my complaint to the Lord.
“Who am I, Lord? I am helpless to make a difference. What can I do? I’m just a tiny little mouse in this big scary scheme of things. It’s all so dark and impossible.” I’m blubbering by this time.
Thankfully, our blubbering is not a bother to God. In fact, it is the passkey to open the door to His many mercies and grace in our time of need.
Seeing then that we have a great High Priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.
Hebrews 12:14-16 NKJV
“Yes,” a commanding Voice whispers in my spirit. “You are a mouse. And you are many.”
In that instant, I see . . . mice. Scurrying. On a mission.
My mind’s eye flips open an image I know well. The Stone Table where Aslan lay dead—shaved and bound with ropes, his heart pierced and bleeding still.
C. S. Lewis does not spare the imagination of the reader in this climatic passage from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. In a lengthy discourse, he describes the scene through the eyes of Susan and Lucy. Overwhelmed with grief at the impossible series of events they’ve witnessed—their greatest hope has been humiliated and undone at the hands of a Witch and her evil army. Carefully, they remove the muzzle that had clamped his mouth shut.
“I wonder could we untie him as well?” said Susan presently. But the enemies, out of pure spitefulness had drawn the cords so tight that the girls could make nothing of the knots.
Yet, as they kiss his lifeless face, weeping and blubbering in uncontained sorrow, Lucy notices small movements upon his body.
A mouse. First one . . . then another . . . and another. A legion of them suddenly materialize on the scene. Susan responds, wildly waving arms to shoo them away. But Lucy sees something more.
“Wait!” said Lucy who had been looking at them more closely still. “Can you see what they’re doing . . . I think they’re friendly mice. Poor little things—they don’t realize he’s dead. They think it’ll do some good untying him”. . . They could see the mice nibbling away; dozens and dozens, even hundreds, of little field mice. And at last, one by one, the ropes were all gnawed through . . . The girls cleared away the remains of the gnawed ropes. Aslan looked more like himself without them. Every moment his dead face looked nobler, as the light grew and they could see it better.
A mouse nibbled away at the ropes keeping Aslan tied down to the Stone Table. Susan and Lucy thought it a nice gesture, but a waste of time and effort.
The girls stroll a short distance away to move about in order to warm themselves and wonder at what they have seen. But a loud clap, a great cracking, deafening noise, sends them running back to where they left Aslan in the murky darkness before the dawn.
The rising of the sun had made everything look so different—all the colours and shadows were changed—that for a moment they didn’t see the important thing. Then they did. The Stone Table was broken into two pieces by a great crack that ran down it from end to end; and there was no Aslan . . . “Who’s done it?” cried Susan. “What does it mean? Is it more magic?” “Yes!” said a great voice behind their backs. “It is more magic.” They looked round. There, shining in the sunrise larger than they had seen him before, shaking his mane (for it had apparently grown again) stood Aslan himself . . .
BECAUSE . . .
“. . . when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards.” . . . Aslan stood up and when he opened his mouth to roar his face became so terrible that they did not dare to look at it. And they saw all the trees in front of him bend before the blast of his roaring as grass bends in a meadow before the wind. Then he said, “We have a long journey to go. You must ride on me.”
The story does not end here. There is yet a war raging for the freedom of a country long held captive. Holding fast to him, Susan and Lucy race to the frontlines of the battle mounted upon he who . . .
. . . doesn’t need to be guided and never grows tired. He rushes on and on, never missing his footing, never hesitating, threading his way with perfect skill between tree-trunks, jumping over bush and briar and the smaller streams, wading the larger, swimming the largest of all . . . the Lion had gathered himself together for a greater leap than any he had yet made and jumped—or you may call it flying rather than jumping—right over the castle wall. The two girls were breathless, but unhurt . . .
Breathless. Yes—that’s how I feel of late in what seems a world gone mad. I am out of breath. I also am aware that I’ve been sighing deep sighs intermittently throughout the day. I feel the assaults in the spiritual realm and need to catch my breath. And I pray.
Unhurt. That is my ultimate destiny. Mounted on the back of my Lord Jesus, I will arrive to meet the demands of the day, whatever they may be, unhurt. A little worse for wear, perhaps, as we all are bearing the burdens of calamitous times. But—as my fate is sealed in His Spirit, by His blood and the word of my testimony—I am unhurt.
I am a mouse and I am not alone.
You may be a mouse, too.
Our prayers in such times as these nibble away at the cords that bind my Lord, as He bides His time for due season to roar. My mouse-like prayers, taken together with your mouse-like prayers, petition the Lord to let loose the Lion of Judah, that He would exercise His might in our fight. We have such need of the Lord to lead in the battle for the hearts and minds of this present generation and the soul of our nation.
I dread my newsfeed. I hate the headlines. But, if they compel me to nibble away the day in prayer without ceasing, I am accomplishing my mouse-like mission in the power of a Lion. I know not how long I must gnaw at the ropes, wrestling in prayer, before the bonds break and the Lion roars. But to be true to my mission in concert with many, I can be confident that I am in the center of God’s will for my life.
Aslan was dead. “Poor little things—they don’t realize he’s dead. They think it’ll do some good untying him.” Lucy thought the mice and their efforts foolish towards an impossible hope.
In the face of impossible national and global unrest as never before seen in history, God’s grace and mercy stands at the door of unknown outcomes. For me, I choose boldness—standing before His Throne in petition. I’ll live in expectation of the impossible and keep nibbling away.
Jesus has the last roar.
I highly recommend the prolific works of C. S. Lewis. His books are classics, revealing biblical truths with powerful reasoning and lucid explanations, both directly in his non-fiction writings, and metaphorically in his fiction—specifically The Chronicles of Narnia series. Today’s story is drawn from the first of those books, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, where we first meet Aslan as a type of Christ, painting a dynamic picture of the plan of salvation and elements of the spiritual battle taking place behind the scenes.
Resources to further your understanding of Lewis as a writer include his own Letters to Children where he answers their questions about the Narnia books. In addition, many writers have drawn out the principles explored in the series. One of my favorites is by Kathryn Lindskoog: Journey into Narnia. Do you have a favorite devotional study guide to the Narnia series?
How does seeing yourself as a mouse nibbling away at binding circumstances through prayer give you hope that the roar of the Lion of Judah may be released to work His will and wonders in dark and difficult times?
NOTE: I eventually expanded this original blog post and audio podcast to a full chapter in my book, The Gatekeeper's Key. Be ye blessed--and encouraged as, once again, the dark is, indeed, very dark in the battle. But the LIGHT shines brighter than ever before in this war.
This blog/podcast was originally published on The Writer's Reverie website which no longer exists. It was previously published in RUBY Magazine online which also is no longer in print. All book links on this post, except for The Gatekeeper's Key, are via my Amazon Affiliate Link. I appreciate your purchase through my affiliate to help Pageant Wagon Publishing continue its mission.
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