“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.”*
I tremble with Lucy, wanting Him to be safe. But He couldn’t be, could He? Not safe and good, if He is The King. To be King and be good means that He must be woefully dangerous. Subjects are safe with a king only insofar as He is able to defeat their enemies. The King who defeated the last enemy of them all, fell Death itself: that King must be fearsome indeed.
‘Course he isn’t safe.
There’s a higher sort of goodness than the harmlessness which “wouldn’t hurt a fly.” This goodness sent the Only Begotten to agonize on the cross, because He who would defeat death would also see to it that justice was served. The best goodness rushes in roaring sometimes, claws and teeth bared, because for goodness to be good, the bad guys must be punished.
So, safe? Of course He isn’t. But, poet Ben Palpant gets it right:
What or whom should I fear?
You have proven that you save
your chosen ones.
Indeed, you answer
out of holy heaven
with right arm flexed,
Some say, “The Lord helps those who help themselves.”
Others say, “I can help myself.”
I say, “God help me or I die.”**
*C. S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, ©1950
**Ben Palpant, “So Here I Stand,” Sojourner Songs, ©2016
Linking up with Kate Motaung to write on her prompt, safe. Turns out she thought of the same Lewis quote I used, but — disclaimer — I wrote my post before I read hers. Either way, the “Safe” button above will carry you to her site.
©2017 by Stacy Crouch