It is not what I expect to move me that does. We are imaginitive creatures, I guess, and we have little pieces of eternity inside us even though our minds- really our whole persons- are really too small for such greatness. The logical things that should appeal to our minds seem to bounce off- why doesn't Colossians 3 stick, and why doesn't Luke 22 always move me to tears?
But what about Reepacheep's walnut boat? The water that becomes sweet near the end of the world? The rising hills of Aslan's country?
My life in Awanno touched the same note as Reepacheep's boat. Like C.S. Lewis said, it is longing for a longing. Stretching, desperate to have something, but you don't even know what, something over those mountains, between here and the sunset. The layer of hills catching the sunlight setting over the Quicksilver dam.... U2's "City of Blinding Lights"... The quiet, muted feeling on a Sunday afternoon after hearing some moving talk about world missions at church...
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