This is Part 3 in a series about Innocence, and it's relation to my life as a brand new eighteen-year-old. Click here for Part 1, and here for Part 2.
My last post spoke on the feeling of exile- that persistent ache that's common to all humans, the ancient knowing that this world is not as it should be. Thankfully, God would never leave us in the dark without hope. Lots of good things -books (particularly those by Lewis and Tolkien), sunrises, children laughing, fairy tales, enchanted gardens, thunderstorms, meaningful songs- are all like fireflies, giving us hope in the darkness and reminding us of what the true Light looks like. But though they may give us "glimpses of Eden," they still seem so remote at times; though we can observe them, it's from a distance; we can't fully become a part of us, in the truest sense. When you look at that homesickness more clearly, you find not just a longing for paradise or perfection, but the longing to be a part of perfection. In a paragraph following the one I just quoted, Lewis says:
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
Monday, June 17, 2013
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Innocence, Pt. 2: Exile
This is Part 2 in a series about Innocence, and it's relation to my life as a brand new eighteen-year-old. Click here for Part 1.
I ended my last post with the J.R.R. Tolkien quote, “We all long for Eden, and we are constantly glimpsing it: our whole nature at its best and least corrupted, its gentlest and most human, is still soaked with the sense of exile.”
Think about the word exile for a moment, and all the weight that it carries.
Adam and Eve had perfect innocence, and they blew it. By the time they realized their mistake, it was too late; they were exiled from Eden, and the gates have been barred ever since. The flaming swords of cherubim are blocking the way (Genesis 3:24). Now, as adults in this modern society, when we catch "glimpses of Eden," or have sudden nostalgia or remembrance for perfection (an aching in the marrow of one's soul that insists, "This isn't how it's supposed to be!"), instead of stretching back into the far collective memories of humanity, we cast the net to a more recent time: childhood.
I ended my last post with the J.R.R. Tolkien quote, “We all long for Eden, and we are constantly glimpsing it: our whole nature at its best and least corrupted, its gentlest and most human, is still soaked with the sense of exile.”
Think about the word exile for a moment, and all the weight that it carries.
Adam and Eve had perfect innocence, and they blew it. By the time they realized their mistake, it was too late; they were exiled from Eden, and the gates have been barred ever since. The flaming swords of cherubim are blocking the way (Genesis 3:24). Now, as adults in this modern society, when we catch "glimpses of Eden," or have sudden nostalgia or remembrance for perfection (an aching in the marrow of one's soul that insists, "This isn't how it's supposed to be!"), instead of stretching back into the far collective memories of humanity, we cast the net to a more recent time: childhood.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Innocence, Pt. 1: Copperheads
Innocence is a topic that's very precious to me, especially at this time in my life as I'm transitioning into adulthood, so I thought I'd string some thoughts together, partly for my own benefit, partly for yours. Enjoy!
If you know me, you'll know how much I've always longed to be a hobbit. I love the feel of grass between my toes (which aren't hairy; I promise), and I go barefoot as often as I can, but as a native of Georgia's piedmont region, that means not very often at all. Lurking in the tall grass, behind any bush, underneath any ivy patch, there's bound to be a snake (At least, that's what my mum has been telling me). Not only that, but ever since The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, there's been an unspoken rule that every child, especially one from the South, should get to visit in a "swimming hole" at least once, but of course nearly every pond and creek and lake in Georgia happens to be infested with cottonmouths. Needless to say, I'm very resentful towards snakes for robbing me of two of childhood's greatest pleasures.
If you know me, you'll know how much I've always longed to be a hobbit. I love the feel of grass between my toes (which aren't hairy; I promise), and I go barefoot as often as I can, but as a native of Georgia's piedmont region, that means not very often at all. Lurking in the tall grass, behind any bush, underneath any ivy patch, there's bound to be a snake (At least, that's what my mum has been telling me). Not only that, but ever since The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, there's been an unspoken rule that every child, especially one from the South, should get to visit in a "swimming hole" at least once, but of course nearly every pond and creek and lake in Georgia happens to be infested with cottonmouths. Needless to say, I'm very resentful towards snakes for robbing me of two of childhood's greatest pleasures.
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