Aslan's Meditations: This is the Title Page

This post was written by Matthew Reynolds, the head administrator from Aslan's Country. It is a wonderful, challenging post about living in light of eternity. You can see the original post here.

Like a lot of you, I’ve been insanely busy this past school year… AP courses, chemistry, the list goes on… and that doesn’t even include the whole month-and-a-half of my life I (almost) entirely dedicated to promoting Voyage of the Dawn Treader and travelling to London for the premiere. Nor does that include the long laundry list of church and family events. No wonder it’s already May.

I love to think about eternity… how one day very soon those who choose to follow Christ will all live in eternity with God in Heaven. And when I think about eternity, it makes life on earth seem so trivial and relatively unimportant. I ask myself, “Why am I living for today? Why am I doing (or not doing) things because of the effect they will have right now? Shouldn’t I be living for something more?”

Yes.

You see, the mentality I think many of us have is that we live a good life on earth; then one day we die and eternity begins. But this is so far from the truth! Eternity starts now.

Think of it this way. Why would you live one day homeless if you had a Father who had a beautiful mansion and wanted you to live in it? In the same way, why would you live your earthly life pursuing worldly things when you have such a larger life to live?

I love how C.S. Lewis puts it in The Last Battle (scan from my first edition copy):

You see, our life on earth is only the title page of the great story of eternity. When you pick up a book, don’t you expect its title page to reflect the contents of its chapters? You wouldn’t expect a book about candy and delicious foods to have a title page that says “Poison,” would you? Just so, shouldn’t the title pages of our eternal lives reflect the greater purpose we live for?

This is a concept I love to think about, yet rarely carry through in my life. Just this morning, I was at a high school in town (I’m homeschooled) with eleven other students, anxiously awaiting the beginning of the AP U.S. History Exam. Believe me, that’s no easy exam. So there we were in the lobby, waiting for the doors to the exam room to open. The students were gathered around one of the teachers, who was attempting to go over a quick review of U.S. history with them. He began it like this.: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” Suffice it to say that this was a very liberal school, and most people there were not interested in God, at least not in glorifying Him. Several times the students interjected “and Jesus” into a very warped retelling of U.S. history. I glanced away, shocked at their blindness. “How can you not see that you’re making fun of the Jesus who died to save you?!” I wanted to ask.

I’m not sure why I didn’t.

In truth, these students and teacher were exactly like the dwarfs in The Last Battle. They didn’t believe in Aslan, and they didn’t believe in Tash. “The dwarfs are for the dwarfs,” I could only imagine them saying next. There I was, in my Narnian armor, and yet I didn’t have the courage to speak up. “Oh,” I told myself, “that would only make me more nervous before the exam.” Perhaps it would have. But what’s an exam score in light of eternity? There were the students who were destined for hell, and here I was, worried about the details of the Vietnam War.

This is the title page.

Will the title page of my life be like this morning? Will I continue to live as a Christian who doesn’t speak up for my God, who did so much more than speak up for me when he died for me? Will I continue to create a title page that says “poison,” or will the title page of my life truly reflect the contents of my “Great Story”?

We should become more like Reepicheep—longing for Aslan’s Country, longing to see our Master’s face, living every second of our lives for one purpose alone: to make our title pages match the story of eternity.

What does your title page look like?

Images: Scans from my first edition of The Last Battle (except for the image of Reepicheep)