I leave for Spain today so I don’t know if I will be able to post devotionals or not. I will if I can. Will be back next saturday.
“If you’re thirsty, you may drink.”
They were the first words she had heard since Scrubb had spoken to her on the edge of the cliff. For a second she stared here and there, wondering who had spoken. Then the voice said again, “If you are thirsty, come and drink,” and of course she remembered what Scrubb had said about animals talking in that other world, and realized that it was the lion speaking. Anyway, she had seen its lips move this time, and the voice was not like a man’s. It was deeper, wilder, and stronger; a sort of heavy, golden voice. It did not make her any less frightened than she had been before, but it made her frightened in rather a different way.
“Are you not thirsty?” said the Lion.
“I’m dying of thirst,” said Jill.
“Then drink,” said the Lion.
“May I – could I – would you mind going away while I do?” said Jill.
The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience.
The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.
“Will you promise not to – do anything to me, if I do come?” said Jill.
“I make no promise,” said the Lion.
Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.
“Do you eat girls?” she said.
“I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the Lion. It didn’t say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.
“I daren’t come and drink,” said Jill.
“Then you will die of thirst,” said the Lion.
“Oh dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer. “I suppose I must go and look for another stream
then.”
“There is no other stream,” said the Lion. (The Silver Chair)
‘If there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than me or else just silly.’
‘Then he isn’t safe?’ asked Lucy.
‘Safe?’ said Mr. Beaver. ‘Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.’ (The lion witch and the wardrobe)
I mentioned one day last week that I don’t understand why they call our time alone with the Lord “Quiet Time” because there is nothing quiet about it at all. When alone with the great lion it is never quiet or safe. With His huge paw He tears and rips at us with His velvet claws, always leaving us more gloriously healed, and real than we ever were before. Footstool time is all about intense longing and glorious encounters that leave us breathless, realizing that we were much thirstier than we had thought. O how He tears at our hearts, wounding us with His love, leaving us marked at His own special treasure with each encounter. Something so exhilarating could never be called “Quiet.”
It’s impossible to behold something so beautiful and be quiet. It’s more likely a time of singing, weeping, and shouting, and those aren’t just our emotions being proclaimed. Have you ever heard a giant Lion sing, weep, and shout; and O the dancing. No its not quiet. It’s way to extraordinarily spectacular, stirring, holy, and life giving to be quiet. O well, enjoy your earth shattering, life changing, destiny fulfilling, time with Jesus this morning. DANCE with the LION. He is LONGING.