It’s Deeper Than It Looks
Goldwater is the allure, but death awaits those who plunge into its enticement. Far from cliché, Deathwater Island is the name left on the map, as it should always have been.
I’m sorry if your misfortune has led you to only know this story from the travesty of the movie it was, one I’m certain that Clive Staples Lewis would have reviewed with a seemingly simplistic response that would turn out to be a piercing commentary on modern story-telling. I’m grateful, for his sake, that he entered the far land beyond the standing wave long before this obnoxious film. Ah, but Lewis’ original manuscript, his published imagination of brilliance, is truly a piece of literary genius. The Voyage of the Dawn Treader has captured the hearts of countless children and adults alike, even without the over-reach of Hollywood CGI and over-zealous screen play writers. And so it should.
The Dawn Treader carries us through the troubled waters of our hearts, navigating the often turbulent seas of our destructive desires, and leads us under full sail toward the yearning of our souls for a better home. The Dawn Treader brings us to sweet reunions and bitter partings, all the while offering hope beyond the tears. This book has been a gift to me, and remains ever more so as I revisit its salty pages. Maybe it is the wanderer in me, the restless soul of my discontent, but I find myself returning to this story even in my imagination. Beyond the well-trod tropes of Eustace’s Dragon and the Darkness that awakens our deepest fears, it is to a far off wind swept mountainside that I find myself sitting most often. Far away from the sound of crashing surf, sailors at their work, and gulls swinging through a cloud-strewn sky, I find myself wandering through the swaying grass of a hidden valley, where nestled in its creased folds sits a glistening jewel—a quiet lake.
It’s deeper than it seems.
Strewn beside the inviting waters are the remains of armour long ago cast aside. Beneath its surface rests an invitation that shatters any contentment in my current wealth with the alluring song of more. It is beside these seemingly calm waters that I often wade into battle, temporarily maddened by whatever magic holds a grip on that valley, and join the argument that Caspian and Edmund lost themselves within—power, control, authority, and ownership. There are many doorways to this madness, but the prospect of wealth may be the widest.
The truth is, I already have more than enough. I was once dead, but God has made me alive in Christ. I was once blind, but Christ applied the balm of his mercy and restored my sight. Furthermore, I was lost, but the shepherd found me; a rebel prodigal, but now a celebrated son; though my sins were like scarlet, I have been washed whiter than snow; though dust, my Creator is mindful of me; though born a pauper, I’ve been reborn a prince; co-heirs with Christ; lavished with grace; promised eternity; given the Spirit.
Yet, I dip my toes into the false promise of something more. I reach for the gold. I cast off what I have in the vain notion that what lays beyond my reach will satisfy the fractured longings still lurking in my flesh.
And this pool is deeper than it seems. It is no small thing that the reformers called it total depravity, for the depths to which I reach seem to know no end. Even as I think that I have dredged all there is to cast at the feet of my crucified saviour, a new glint of longing catches my eye. Yes, the pool of my sin is deeper than it seems.
But grace is deeper still.
Even as the madness that lay hold of Caspian and Edmund was broken by a simple glimpse of Aslan standing in authority on the ridge above them, so just a glimpse of the risen Jesus is enough to cure the madness of our longing. It is as we behold his glory that we, by one degree of glory to another, are transformed. You see, as deep as the pool of your depravity may be, the ocean of his grace is deeper still. Yes, it’s deeper than it seems. You will not exhaust it. You will not reach its depths.
“Courage, dear heart,” Jesus will always be enough. No matter the depths of your sin, or the darkness that seems to prevail, the grace of Jesus is deeper and brighter still.
Psalm 27:4, 13–14 (CSB): I have asked one thing from the Lord; it is what I desire: to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, gazing on the beauty of the Lord and seeking him in his temple.
I am certain that I will see the Lord’s goodness in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart be courageous. Wait for the Lord.
