It’s been 5 years since I was baptized in my Grandmother’s pool on April 22, 2020. Since then, my grandma has passed away, as well as my grandpa and great-uncle. I’ve gained a sister-in-law, published a book, and decided to homeschool all three of my children.
I remember sensing a spiritual buffer around me for several months after I was baptized. My old self’s debilitating lies couldn’t get to me. I felt safe. Eventually, they came back, one by one, like little goblins from dark caves, but now I have armor against them. Rather, I know who can combat them through me and in me and around me as I walk according to the Spirit, walking through seasons of darkness and seasons of refreshment and nourishment. The best way to combat them, I’ve found, is by following the Lord’s thread.
The Princess and the Goblin
My daughter, Rose, and I are listening to George MacDonald’s The Princess and the Goblin. In it, a wise old grandmother gives her granddaughter, Princess Irene, a magic ring to use when she is frightened. The ring is attached to a ball of gossamer thread, which stays in the grandmother’s tower.
One night, Irene wakes up terrified and follows her grandmother’s thread to find her grandmother. To her surprise, it leads her into the caves where the goblins live. Frightened though she is, she follows the thread through the maze of dark tunnels to a shored-up hole where her miner friend, Curdie, has been trapped by goblins. She sets him free and guides him out of the tunnels by holding fast to her thread.
Curdie cannot feel the thread, nor does he believe Irene knows the way, but he follows her anyway to keep her safe and guide her when she will most certainly get lost. However, in following Irene, Curdie finds a passageway that he didn’t know existed, and which later factors into Curdie’s efforts to foil the Goblins’ evil schemes.
When Curdie and Irene reach the princess’s house, Irene takes Curdie up to see her great, wise old Grandmother to prove she hasn’t been inventing tales, but Curdie cannot see the beautiful old queen. Curdie confesses that he only sees a tub, a heap of musty straw, and a withered apple.
“You’re making game of me, Your Royal Highness,” Curdie says, “and after what we have come through together this day. I don’t think it is kind of you.” He tells Irene he wishes that he’d never come, and that he can find his way out without Irene’s old granny’s thread.
Irene is hurt and asks her grandmother what to make of all this.
“People must believe what they can,” the grandmother replies, “and those who believe more must not be hard upon those who believe less.”
“You must give him time,” said her grandmother; “and you must be content not to be believed for awhile. It is very hard to bear; but I have had to bear it, and shall have to bear it many a time yet. I will take care of what Curdie thinks of you in the end. You must let him go now … I did not mean to show myself. Curdie is not yet able to believe some things. Seeing is not believing—it is only seeing. … but in the meantime you must be content, I say, to be misunderstood for a while. We are all very anxious to be understood, and it is very hard not to be. But there is one thing much more necessary.”
“What is that, grandmother?”
“To understand other people.”
“Yes, grandmother. I must be fair—for if I’m not fair to other people, I’m not worthy being understood myself. I see. So as Curdie can’t help it, I will not be vexed with him, but wait.”
Walking by the Spirit
Learning to walk by the Spirit is not unlike following Irene’s thread. I suppose at times, the thread leads us to help others in difficult places, but once those people are freed, it’s not our job to insist that they follow us. Perhaps they, like the miners, are familiar with these dark tunnels and have their own ways out. Perhaps they have their own thread to follow. But if they do follow us, they may either come to rely on us as their guides or, since God has not decided to reveal himself to them yet, think we’re inventing stories.
I suppose it is the mark of a religious person, as opposed to a Christ-follower, to insist that others follow one’s spiritual thread or, if that doesn’t happen, to insist one’s own way is only for the religious elite—that is what the religious leaders did.
To avoid doing such things, it is important for each Christian to learn the sound of God’s voice. By this, we keep in step with the Spirit, and, in a time of silence, confusion, or fear, we’re less likely to turn aside to follow someone else’s way or, if we do turn aside, from needlessly defending our wanderings.
Certainly, in the last five years, there have been times when I was sure I’d lost the thread. “Oh no, now I’ve done it. God has abandoned me. I missed a turn.”
But God never has. I imagine that at those times, I was like Irene curled up in a ball on the cave floor, hearing goblins all around and praying, “Here I am. I think I’ve lost the way. Send help, please. Or else let me feel your thread again.”
George MacDonald says it better:
Here I should like to remark, for the sake of the princes and princesses in general, that it is a low and contemptible thing to refuse to confess a fault, or even an error. If a true princess has done wrong, she is always uneasy until she has had an opportunity of throwing the wrongness away from her by saying: ‘I did it; and I wish I had not and I am sorry for having done it.’
Reflection Questions
Where have you sensed the Lord’s clear guidance lately, either in forging ahead or in confessing that you’ve gone the wrong way?
If you’re in a season that feels directionless, when was the last time you sensed His guidance? What did He tell you to do? Have you done it?
Who do you know who seems to hear from the Lord regularly? How might being with them help?
What did the Psalmist do in times of feeling forgotten by God?
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Little House on the Prairie
We were listening to Laura Ingles Wilder’s By the Shores of Silver Lake on my Libby app while en route to the beach today. This is the fifth of Wilder’s nine Little House on the Prairie books, which follow Laura’s family as they settle in various homestead…
So good!