Hebrews 12: 18-29 (links validated 7/21/25a)

In his compelling book, One Lost Soul: Richard Nixon’s Search for Salvation, Daniel Silliman describes what the American President Nixon thought of as “acceptable worship.” In it the author notes that no president before or since Nixon hosted more worship services in the White House. Yet Silliman also goes on to observe: “The service wasn’t for ‘scrubby’ families. It wasn’t for sinners or repentant people seeking grace. It wasn’t for top White House officials to bow their heads in humility, gratitude or supplication. It was for Nixon and what he wanted. He insisted on control.”

Few works of literature more memorably encapsulate the paradox of worshipping God with both joy and reverence than C.S. Lewis’ children of Narnia’s experience with Aslan the Lion. When Mr. and Mrs. Beaver first tell the children about him, Lucy responds by saying, “I think I should be quite frightened to meet a lion. Tell me, is he a safe lion?” “Safe?” Mr. Beaver answers. “’Course he’s not safe. But he’s good.” Those who meet Aslan or even merely hear his earth-shaking roar are appropriately awe-filled. They know that ripping them to shreds in a moment would be little more than swatting flies for Aslan. Yet when Lucy and the others look into Aslan’s eyes, they see something that makes them want nothing but him. They see a kindness and tenderness that’s fiercely determined to show them love.

When his adoptive brothers and sisters look into Jesus’ fierce but loving eyes at Zion, we see something that’s perhaps similar to what Narnia’s children saw in Aslan the lion. When Mr. and Mrs. Beaver first tell the children about him, Lucy responds by saying, “I think I should be quite frightened to meet a lion. Tell me, is he a safe lion?” “Safe?” Mr. Beaver answers. “’Course he’s not safe. But he’s good.” Those who meet Aslan or even just hear his earth-shaking roar are appropriately awe-filled. They know ripping them to shreds in a moment would be little more than swatting flies for Aslan. Yet when Lucy and the others look into Aslan’s eyes, they see something that makes them want nothing but him. They see a kindness and tenderness that’s fiercely determined to show them love.

surely the end of Hebrews 12 summons to mind C.S. Lewis and his classic description of Aslan the Lion in the first Narnia book. The children are first told about Aslan by Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, prompting Lucy to say “I think I should be quite frightened to meet a lion. Tell me, is he a safe lion?” “Safe?” Mr. Beaver replies, “Course he’s not safe. But he’s good. He’s the King!” And of course Lewis keeps this tension alive throughout the Chronicles of Narnia. Those who meet Aslan, who hear his earth-splitting roar of majesty, are properly afraid, wary. This thing could rip you to shreds at a moment’s notice. It would be like swatting a fly to him. And yet when Lucy and so many others look deeply into Aslan’s eyes, they see something that stirs in them a fathomless desire for nothing else but him. They see a kindness and a tenderness that is as fiercely determined to exude love as the Lion himself just is fierce...

("The Tour de France, the world famous bicycle race, is well known for its grueling intensity. Lance Armstrong has won the race five times since his first victory in 1999. Armstrong is not only an outstanding athlete; he is a cancer survivor....")

Last October, we had the great privilege, Margit and I, of visiting the atomic bomb memorial in Hiroshima, Japan. There is a statue in the memorial of a girl with outstretched arms and a crane rising above her. The statue is based on the true story of Sadako Sasaki, a young girl who died from radiation. She believed that if she folded 1,000 paper cranes she would be cured. Sadako did not live, but to this day people, mostly children, from around the world fold cranes and send them to Hiroshima where they are placed near the statue. We also visited the Peace Museum which provided information and insight into the events of August 6, 1945, which concluded World War Two. 140,000 people died by the end of that year in Hiroshima...

In the spring, sudden storm on the upper reaches of the world’s highest mountain trapped some of the best climbers in the world, and the slopes of Mt. Everest are littered with more bodies. In 1921 the British explorer, George Mallory, made the first extensive attempt on the summit which the “Sherpa people of northern Nepal refer to… as Chomolungma, [which is] Tibetan for “Goddess Mother of the World”. Three expeditions later, he disappeared just 800 feet below the 29,035-foot summit. The first successful summit was achieved in 1953 when Tenzing Norgay, a Nepalese Sherpa and Sir Edmund Hillary made the ascent. By the mid-1990s over 4000 people had braved the dangers of storm and ice, each one following Mallory’s reasoning, simply “Because it is there”...