This morning I happened to be listening to LeRoy White; his “Dance like a Lion” song has always been one of my favorites. It, and LeRoy himself, never fails to remind me of Aslan, from the Chronicles of Narnia. The movies are fine, but you really have to read the books. Aslan the lion is a thinly-disguised Jesus Christ figure. In the movies, he sounds like Liam Neeson. To me, though, he’s always sounded like LeRoy. As I listened to the song, I was reminded of my favorite quote from the novels:
“Aslan is a lion – the Lion, the great Lion.” “Ooh” said Susan. “I’d thought he was a man. Is he-quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion”…”Safe?” said Mr Beaver …”Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”
Safety is profoundly overrated. It’s not interesting, it’s not fun, it’s not natural. Given how damaging a life built around external security and ego predictability can be, safety isn’t even all that safe.
Aslan may be the lion, but you are a lion. Maybe that’s a good way to understand our relationship to Jesus Christ, too. More on that soon. As a lion, though, you are regal, powerful, beautiful. But not safe. You are the best kind of troublemaker. Danger is your nature. You have a powerful, primal, unpredictable, lion heart. Spirit placed you in your current situation to speak Truth and demonstrate love.
Love is dangerous. It pulls us out of our comfort zones and shows us how silly they were in the first place. It breaks down the illusion of control. It’s who we are, where we have been, and where we are going. Love is a power that moves; being true to your loving nature means being on the move, too.
Maybe somebody told you that stagnation was the ultimate aim of life. Maybe they tried to sell you the idea that life is a matter of finish lines, that heaven is a place where everything stands still, that church is supposed to be free of change, challenge, or strangers. Maybe that’s why a lot of people don’t go to church any more.
The best parties are always a little bit dangerous. Church works not when it meets my expectations and validates my prejudices, but rather when it shakes me to my core and challenges me to grow. If the kingdom is in our midst, it can’t be a destination. It’s a road. And you and I were built for speed.
Happiness, security, and manifestation are wonderful byproducts of the spiritual pursuit. If I make them my goal, I short-circuit a beautiful process. But if I stop worrying about them, if I stop trying to control God or mediate how Spirit is going to work in my life, I find miracles in my midst.
Being dangerous means learning how to trust God. It means being okay with not knowing how things are going to work. It means falling in love with uncertainty so that the only sure thing, that God is in charge, has room in your life. That’s what we are here to do. Where the villianous White Witch in the Narnia books goes around trying to freeze everything in time and space, Aslan brings the world to life.
What can you do to be dangerous today?