Awe and Joy April 1, 2008
Posted by Anya in : I won't keep things purposely vague , 7commentsWe watched Beyond Narnia yesterday, and I was reminded of the whole awe-and-joy thing. Because — Lewis got it. And I knew that Lewis got it the first time I read Surprised by Joy, and he talked about how the North made him go delirious with a longing. The North, per se, does not do it to me, but plenty of other things do, and it was good to be able to read about it happening to someone else.
The first time I actually remember the feeling was from the first time I read The High King by Lloyd Alexander. It wasn’t exactly the book, either; it was a bookmark which I found in the book — cardstock, covered with red glitter and laminated. I have no clue why that set me off. (I do still have the bookmark, it doesn’t seem too extraordinary now.) Now the story could make my heart break and sing, because it has Taliesin in it, and the Mabinogen, and a lot of other things.
Honestly, I don’t really know why those things leave me in awe. I certainly know plenty of people who couldn’t care less, who don’t see anything particularly beautiful about a few words in Gaelic. (I was on another planet, or as good as, when I was reading Lawhead’s Patrick and the one character said “Mo tiarna” (”My lord”) and I don’t know why. It just seemed to fit.) Mom wrote about this in her post on Tuning Forks.
At this point I should probably say that if you don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m immensely sorry. I do not really know how to explain it. Maybe it goes along with seeing the brokenness in the world, but it is a gift of God to counter it. A gift of hope — which comes out of Pandora’s box so that we can live with the sorrow. Although we, unlike the Greeks, know that we will not have to live with the sorrow forever.
What amazes me is when the pieces fall together. In any area of life, really, but especially when stories of different cultures come together and make sense, when I can see how God uses all things together for His glory. How they weave together like celtic knots, with a beauty which looks tangled if you only see a part, but has the unity in diversity which Umberto Eco talks about in The Name of the Rose, and which Wayne Grudem talks about in Systematic Theology in relation to God’s triune nature.
Then on the other hand there are things which amuse me. Like The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I do enjoy that book (although I do not unhesitating recommend it), and it is another thing that I can’t entirely explain why I find it so hilarious. Someone else from the Rebelution — he, it seems, writes consistently thoughtful blogs — has a good post about this, and I’d encourage you to read it: http://tangentry.wordpress.com/2008/01/23/randomness-seriously/
HHG is random. Very funny, but random. And the movie, which Mom and I just watched, is the same way. Sort of like Mr. Bean’s Holiday. It is amusing — you don’t have to think. But I wonder if it would be so funny if I thought that was all there is. (This is tying into my class in postmodernism, currently reading Postmodern Times, by Gene Edward Veith, which is an amazing book. Griffin, what do I have to read to get you to read that one?) It’s funny to me because I know that things do not operate on an improbability drive. There are laws which govern the universe, so it’s okay to suspend them at times for the sake of a story and see what sort of ridiculousness you end up with. But it’s not the same thing as Lewis’ joy, because it isn’t heart, mind, and soul. It deliberately turns your mind off.
And maybe this is even where Madeleine L’Engle falls short. Her stories sometimes move me to the awe/joy. They often touch me deeply. But sometimes they entirely miss the mark, and I think I figured out part of the reason why. She doesn’t understand God properly. And I do not mean this arrogantly, as if I do. I obviously don’t. But she too much reinterprets Scripture in her stories, or places Jesus on a level with Buddha and other “gods” (this happens in A Wrinkle in Time). I just finished reading Certain Women by L’Engle, which was quite a book (this being said in the same tone as the Pirate King’s “Ahh… Ruth is well, yes, very well indeed!). I’m not very sure what I thought of it yet, so I’m not recommending it. Yet. But her characters explain away how God could order bloodshed (such as of the Amalekites) by saying that the prophets who claimed these words were from God were actually just listening to themselves or the pagan gods. Picture me sort of gagging and bashing my head into the wall. So much for the inerrancy of Scripture! So much for a God Who is holy and just and good and loving all at the same time! …okay, I will stop there. If you really want to hear an entire rant, ask me about it some other time. 
The point is, the joy and awe can only go so far in her books. Ultimately, that joy has to spring from Who God is.
That is probably why different things move different people to awe. We reflect different parts of His image, and those are the things which resonate within us. But the awe is one of the best things I know of that can completely convince me that anyone who thinks heaven will be boring is completely wrong. If we can taste this much joy here on earth, when so much of God is obscured from us by sinfulness, how much more wonderful will heaven be?
For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. [I Corinthians 13:12]
And I cannot wait for that. But as I am forced to, I need to go do Chinese and Greek and chores and Systematic Theology and read The Prince and all those other things. To the glory of God.
To quote Lewis (of course)…
Till we have faces.
