Swimming Lessons

“The dream is ended. This is the morning.”

In C.S. Lewis’s The Last Battle, the world of Narnia is coming to an end. But it is also giving way to a new, eternal world, which makes the former seem like a dream in comparison. The “morning” Aslan invites them into is an even more real reality than the one they had once known.

On the last night of camp each week, all the staff and campers play a surprise game called “Body Body,” where we turn off all the lights in the house and each person draws a playing card. If you draw a king, you are a killer; anything else, you’re a townsperson. The game is one part murder mystery, one part hide-and-seek, and usually one part scare-the-heck-out-of-each-other-in-the-dark. I’m a big fan of the third part. So, on the very last night of camp, I became a character known as “Momo,” which I had never heard of, but apparently it’s the Gen Z version of the boogie man (or rather boogie woman). And I was scary. I was so scary that in the last round I killed everyone in the game, then went upstairs to the “graveyard” and re-killed everyone else for a second time. Screams were heard everywhere as I yelled, “The dream is ended! This is the morning!” They did not take it as good news. Not even the staff. We had just finished reading George MacDonald’s Lilith together, which is a much creepier version of Narnia with a similarly beautiful ending, so I added, “You must lie down and go to sleep! I have prepared a couch for you! It will only be cold for a little while!” In that moment, I had somehow perfectly embodied all parts of my personality: my humorous side, my deep side, and of course my somewhat scary side. To my knowledge, I made three people pee their pants, and one male staffer (who will remain nameless) shed a tear.

This is just one small example of how our little surf camp can feel like another world. (Though not usually a terrifying one). It might make you pee a little, but those who come seem to get a taste of something bigger than themselves. Even when they can’t put their finger on why they love it so much, you can see it on their faces, the deep relief of “ahhh I really hoped there was something more.” It must be the magical blend of surfing, beauty, good food, the presence of God, and getting to feel like a child again. Campers often cry at the end of their weeks, but when it’s time for the staff to leave… ooof, those are a different kind of tears. It’s the worst. The community we build in the summer is so special and unique, it feels like something is ripping apart when it’s time for everyone to leave and go home. They become our brothers, sisters, friends, and extended children in a way. It’s sad, but mostly the happy kind of sad.

It’s the end of another summer, our TWENTIETH summer doing this, and once again I find myself pondering the deeper magic of what we are doing here on this wild, beautiful, stretch of sand. I realize this is a lofty claim, but lately I’ve been thinking about the similarities between Surf Hatteras and Narnia. Whether you come as a camper, staffer, or Byrd kid, it feels like another world, and the vast majority of participants don’t seem to go home the same. Just like in Narnia, the longer you spend here, the more you are changed… the more you “get” that something here is more real than what seems like “reality” at home. You may not be able to fully put your finger on it, but you know there is something truly different going on. Something very near magic. Not the fake magic of the Wizard of Oz, but something actually real. . . a taste of heaven. . . a taste of the kingdom of God.

It’s crazy that it still feels that way for me as well. Every summer I don’t know how it’s going to go or in what ways God is going to move, but He always does. Perhaps because the very essence of God is goodness, beauty, and power and you can’t go a day here without experiencing all of that. HE is the deeper magic of this place, the One who uses it as a vessel to reveal deeper truths about Himself and ourselves. Two summers ago He taught me about joy, last summer was a summer of pruning and healing, and this summer there was a steady theme of having faith like a child… learning to come to him and enjoy him the way a child would.

“Jesus says, ‘I have so much to offer you, so much to show you. But you’re going to have to let go of the cynicism, skepticism, and pragmatism… simply trust, like a child does.” -John Eldridge

At the end of The Last Battle, it becomes clear that the world of Narnia was only a dream compared to the reality of heaven. Narnia was the prelude, the precursor to something even more real. There are glimpses of Aslan around every corner in Narnia. There are glimpses of Jesus, the taste of something heavenly here as well. The Pevensies originally entered Narnia almost by accident. They came as they were, but they could not remain as the were. They were given a purpose, shown a deeper meaning. They learned that they were part of a bigger story. They also came face to face with Aslan, the great lion, whose presence compelled them to keep going even when things got hard. In the end, they became kings and queens of Narnia and ruled alongside Aslan. When they went back to their former world, though they might have longed to stay in Narnia, they were changed.

But they did have to go back. We do too. For now. But we don’t have to stay the same or live the same as before. We may not fit into our “old clothes.”

Once you come face to face with Aslan, you realize your life is but a dream. Once you see that the morning is on the horizon, your perspective and priorities shift. They must. They must take a turn toward meaning, toward heaven. But how? How do we go about living for God when everything around us seems to pull us into distraction and anxiety and temptation? The Siren call of “success,” busy-ness, and momentary self-gratification beckons us. C. S. Lewis had a beautiful way of seeing it. If God is like the ocean, he said, full of goodness, beauty, and power…then we need swimming lessons.

“This is my endlessly recurrent temptation: to go down to that Sea (I think St. John of the Cross called God a sea) and there neither dive nor swim nor float, but only dabble and splash, careful not to get out of my depth and holding on to the lifeline which connects me with my things temporal…Swimming lessons are better than a lifeline to the shore….For of course that lifeline is really a death line.

For He has, in the last resort, nothing to give us but Himself; and He can give that only insofar as our self-affirming will retires and makes room for Him in our souls. Let us make up our minds to it; there will be nothing “of our own” left over to live on, no “ordinary” life…

For He claims all, because He is love and must bless. He cannot bless unless He has us. When we try to keep within us an area of our own, we try to keep an area of death. Therefore, in love, He claims all. There’s no bargaining with Him. — C.S. Lewis’ last sermon

If God is the ocean and we are meant to learn how to dive, swim, and float, then we must let go of our many lifelines. One can’t learn to swim while holding onto other things. It’s unnatural. We were made to swim, yet we hold onto so many comforts that keep us safe. We don’t want to feel lost at sea, but that’s the only way to live a meaningful life with God. He must have all of us. Swimming lessons imply learning from others, they require trust, and letting go.

I’ll break this down briefly with some practical suggestions.

1) Swimming lessons require learning from others. We can’t do it alone. Find a mentor, a Bible study, go to church and get involved. You can learn a lot through podcasts and internet sermons, but find some people to follow and grow with side by side. Look for those who have visible fruit in their lives, live out what they say in Bible study, practice vulnerability, and who are going the long-haul path of obedience in the same direction. Judge a tree by it’s fruit, be wary of the flashy, quick fruit, and look for the “boring,” long-lasting, faithful kind. Basically, surround yourself with people who really live it, and who you want to model your life after. We become like those we spend the most time with, so pay careful attention to who that is for you.

2) Swimming lessons require trust. You can’t get very far without trusting God and trusting others. Will you be disappointed? Yes, most certainly. But bring your disappointments to God and allow Him to prune your affections to be more like His. The internet will tell you to go “find yourself,” “make a name for yourself,” and “you be you,” but the Bible says the opposite. It says to die to self, give Christ the glory, and find your true self in God, as we “live and move and have our being” in Him. Basically do the opposite of what seems like candy… what looks good, tastes good, but you know won’t last. There’s a brand of spirituality that is also candy. Even mature Christians flock to it at the first sighting of the supernatural experiences of God because they get bored with the less glittery path of daily obedience. If it’s quick, easy, painless, and shiny, it may have a place to encourage and admonish, but is not meant to be elevated above wisdom and obedience. So trust, but trust God’s approach, which in the Bible is typically a slow, deep process that is sometimes painful. Because God is good and He wants ALL of us, He must scrape off or cut off that which cannot remain in order to make room for His goodness and blessings. This does not make us less ourselves, but MORE into the people we were made to be. We were meant to rule and reign with Christ, and this life is just the readying for that in the same way Narnia was that for the Pevensies. But we must trust that He is good throughout this process and not lose hope.

“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.” — C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

3) Swimming lessons require letting go. But not the cheesy '“let go and let God” that sounds nice yet is more theoretical without requiring you to do anything. I mean identifying our “life lines” that are actually “death lines,” and one by one, cutting them off or letting Him cut them off for you. Some of them are obvious and difficult to cut. Do it anyway. Some of them aren’t as obvious to see and are also difficult to cut off… pray and ask God to reveal them to you. Ask Him and others for help. Then there are some lifelines that are not known to you at all, but they will be in time. This is what it means to mature in Christ. Because as we seek God, we become more like Him, and all that is not of Him cannot remain. Just like in Narnia, our vision and taste change as we set our affections on what is truly good and beautiful. This is the beautiful, painful, life of transformation.

Then one day, you’ll look back and see how far you’ve come, how strong your muscles have become, and you’ll even lose your desire to post about your strong muscles. You won’t be needing affirmation from others and posting about eating “500 grams of protein, 20 pounds of creatine, and don’t forget your macros.” You will desire less “highs,” less “candy” in general. The most beautiful things of God can’t be captured in a post, snap, or TikTok. You will live a life that others notice because you have been faithful for the long haul. The fruit will be evident. When trials come, you are not shaken. When life throws you curve balls, you seek His face, and you become more radiant because HE is radiant.

"Those who look to him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed"

- Psalm 34:5

One of the most painful parts of the Narnia stories is when Lucy and Edmond are told they won’t be coming back to Narnia again…

"You are too old, children," said Aslan, "and you must begin to come close to your own world now."
"It isn't Narnia, you know," sobbed Lucy. "It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?"
"But you shall meet me, dear one," said Aslan.
"Are — are you there too, Sir?" said Edmund.
"I am," said Aslan. "But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

- C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Our partings at the end of camp feel like this sometimes. Especially when the people we love “grow up,” and their time here is over. But Aslan offers hope to Lucy and Edmund. He will still be with them wherever they go. The purpose of their time in Narnia had been fulfilled… to know Him there for a little so that they will keep knowing Him and knowing Him all the more deeply back home. Through this knowing, they were changed and would continue to change. Once you’ve tasted and seen that the Lord is real and that He is good, where else can you go but straight into His arms? His arms are big enough to hold all of your doubts, hurts, longings, and desires. Keep turning toward Him, keep seeking His face, keep seeking what lasts. Do whatever it takes to cut the cords that bind you, leave the candy behind, and be nourished by the One who holds the stars in their place. He isn’t safe, but He is good, and He has things for you to do. A life of meaning awaits.

"Teach me your way, Lord, that I may rely on your faithfulness; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name. I will praise you, Lord my God, with all my heart; I will glorify your name forever. For great is your love toward me; you have delivered me from the depths, from the realm of the dead.” - Psalm 86:11-13

“He must become greater; I must become less.” - John 3:30