Lord of the long game

My favourite moment in CS Lewis ’classic allegory ‘The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe ’is after the White Witch and her cronies have finally killed Aslan (a great lion who represents Jesus).

At that moment they heard from behind them a loud noise—a great cracking, deafening noise as if a giant had broken a giant's plate.... 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 from 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. "Oh, Aslan!" cried both the children, staring up at him, almost as much frightened as they were glad.... "But what does it all mean?" asked Susan when they were somewhat calmer. "It means," said Aslan, "that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that 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 backward."

How small the Witch’s perspective. Only as far back as the dawn of time! And yet we see a day, a week, a year, a decade and think we have due cause to query God’s goodness. To doubt His love. To question His ability.

How I long instead to be the child who says ‘I always knew you were up to something wonderful.’ To join my brothers and sisters in Hebrews 11 who all ‘died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth.’ Heaven was always their home, and the fragment of time they inhabited was less vivid to them than eternity.

Elisabeth Elliot once said that ‘Fear arises when we imagine everything depends on us. ’How often have my responses been shaped by this lie!

How would life change if I truly believed that the long game belonged to the Lord?

I’d carry burdens more lightly. Knowing that the outcomes belong to God, I would settle into simple obedience and a joyful anticipation for all that He is outworking. Understanding that the success of His plans have never rested on my ability, failings and insufficiencies would instead become opportunities to experience more of His mercy and grace.

I’d love more freely. Trusting that the fruit of salvation and sanctification is tended in every season by the Vinedresser, I would unreservedly love the one’s I am with, for however long that season may be.

I’d rest more deeply. Allowing the revelation of His unstoppable reign to seep into my bones, I’d lay down my work to revel in His provision and care for me.

He holds the whole world in His loving hands, and He has already won the victory