Life at the moment is very fluid. My mind is set very much about what the next six to twelve months holds. A major part of this is where I will call home. Do I buy an apartment and move out of "home"? Do I move to another city? Do I move churches?
In this context, this uncertainty and certainly epochal moment in my life, I am reminded by Switchfoot of C.S. Lewis' wonderful Narnian fantasy and the struggle the Pevensees have in figuring out what they call home. Is it London? Is it Narnia and Cair Paravel? The kids struggle with this every time they enter and leave Narnia. Aslan lives in Narnia. He talks to them, walks with them, conquers for them, comforts them. Yet, at the end of the Dawn Treader, when Aslan reveals that Edmund and Lucy will never return to Narnia, Lucy breaks down:
"It isn't Narnia, you know," sobbed Lucy. It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?"
"But you shall meet me, dear one," said Aslan.
"Are - are you there too, Sir?" said Edmund.
"I am," said Aslan. "But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there."
I can't wait for my permanent home. Butchering one of Lewis' allusions, it's through the door in the sky:
Then all in one moment there was a rending of the blue wall (like a curtain being torn) and a terrible white light from beyond the sky, and the feel of Aslan's mane and a Lion's kiss on their foreheads...
That's what I'm waiting for. Enjoy Switchfoot's brilliant song.