Comfort Through Creation: Literature That Leads to Wonder

This is the third post based on the “Comfort Through Creation” seminar. The first post detailed how astronomy directly puts us face to face with the wonder and beauty of the stars and—by intentional extension—brings us to worship their Maker. The second post came at the wonder of creation vicariously from the more indirect angle of looking at the biographies of a few historical individuals who were helped by engaging with the natural world. This post will also be more indirect, observing how a couple of famous works of fictional literature tap into the wonders of creation.

The first set of examples comes from C.S. Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia. The number of excerpts that could be utilized from this beloved children’s series is far more than I’ll include here. Below are just a couple examples of Lewis “smuggling” in beauty from the natural world:

Prince Caspian

“Thus Aslan feasted the Narnians till long after the sunset had died away, and the stars had come out….and the chattering of water over stone at the Ford of Beruna could be heard once more. But all night Aslan and the Moon gazed upon each other with joyful and unblinking eyes.”

The Silver Chair

“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.

You can see from the Prince Caspian excerpt that Lewis personifies the moon, even going so far as to capitalize it in order to make his point. The Moon was delighting in its Maker, and Aslan was delighting in his creation. In the excerpt from The Silver Chair, Lewis is likely speaking both literally and metaphorically when Aslan states that there is no other stream. If this true, Lewis is bringing in a tangible part of the created order (a stream) to point to an even deeper reality (there is no help for Jill outside of coming to Aslan).

Another instance of a great literary classic employing the enchantment power of creation is found in the final book of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Return of the King. Much like his friend C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien also smuggles in beauty as a powerful antidote to apathy and hopelessness:

Far above the Ephel Dúath in the West the night sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a bright star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach (Tolkien, Ballantine Books, p. 220).

Dear friend, it may be that you feel despondent, hopeless, anxious, or otherwise simply unenamored with the wonder of who God is. Going for a walk in the park or staring at a sunset may not “do it” for you at this moment. If that be so, perhaps consider awakening hope and wonder and a “God-entranced” (I borrow this term from John Piper) view of the world in an indirect way. Borrow this vicariously through good works of fiction.