Reepicheep And Emily

Reepicheep and Emily

My Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him.

— John 14:23

It ought to be the business of every day to prepare for our last day.

— MATTHEW HENRY

In C. S. Lewis’s The Voyage of the “Dawn Treader,” a ship sails east in search of lost countrymen and new adventures. One passenger, Reepicheep, the valiant mouse, is an optimist in the biblical sense. His heart is steadfastly set on a greater adventure. He has one destination in mind: Aslan’s country. Heaven.

Reepicheep, standing two feet tall on the Dawn Treader’s deck, searches the horizon for Aslan the Lion and for Aslan’s country. King Aslan has come to Narnia from the east before, so it’s eastward they sail, and eastward Reepicheep gazes with longing.

From his youth, Reepicheep was taught in a poem that one day he would journey to the far east and find what he’d always longed for:

Where sky and water meet, Where the waves grow sweet, Doubt not, Reepicheep, To find all you seek, There is the utter east.

After reciting the poem to his shipmates, Reepicheep says, “I do not know what it means. But the spell of it has been on me all my life!”^a

Late in the journey, when they have sailed farther than anyone on record, Reepicheep is thrown into the sea. To his surprise, the water tastes sweet. His excitement is unrestrainable. He’s so close to Aslan’s country, he can literally taste it.

Reepicheep and the three children go on alone, in a small boat. Then, when the water becomes too shallow, Reepicheep disembarks on his own tiny boat, leaving behind the world he’d always known, with eyes only for his King and his King’s country.

Earlier in the voyage, Reepicheep expressed his utter abandonment to seeking Aslan’s country: “While I can, I sail east in the Dawn Treader. When she fails me, I paddle east in my coracle. When she sinks, I shall swim east with my four paws. And when I can swim no longer, if I have not reached Aslan’s country, or shot over the edge of the world in some vast cataract, I shall sink with my nose to the sunrise.”^b

This is Reepicheep’s glorious quest. We understand, because the spell of Heaven has been on our lives, too, even if we have sometimes misinterpreted it as lesser desires. At the book’s end, the children watch as Reepicheep disappears over the horizon. Does he make it to Aslan’s country? In the final book of the Chronicles of Narnia we discover the answer. (Even if you haven’t read the book, I’ll bet you can guess.)

Let me tell you another story, one that really happened. When five-year-old Emily Kimball was hospitalized and heard she was going to die, she started to cry. Even though she loved Jesus and wanted to be with him, she didn’t want to leave her family behind. Then her mother had an inspired idea. She asked Emily to step through a doorway into another room, and she closed the door behind her. One at a time, the entire family started coming through the door to join her. Her mother explained that this was how it would be. Emily would be the first to go through death’s door into Heaven. Eventually, the rest of the family would follow, probably one by one, joining her on the other side. Emily understood.

The analogy would have been even more complete if someone representing Jesus had been in the room to greet her—along with departed loved ones and Bible characters and angels.

Every person reading this book is dying. Perhaps you have reason to believe that death will come very soon. You may be troubled, feeling uncertain or unready to leave. But since the overwhelming majority of our lives will be spent on the other side of death, not this side, shouldn’t we be careful to get ready for what awaits us there?

Make sure of your relationship with Jesus Christ. Be certain that you trust only him to save you—not anyone or anything else, and certainly not any good works you’ve done. And then allow yourself to get excited about what’s on the other side of death’s door.

Life becomes different when we realize that death is a turnstile, not a wall, and that our funerals will mark a small end and a great beginning. My friend Calvin Miller put it beautifully:

I once scorned ev’ry fearful thought of death, When it was but the end of pulse and breath, But now my eyes have seen that past the pain There is a world that’s waiting to be claimed. Earthmaker, Holy, let me now depart, For living’s such a temporary art.And dying is but getting dressed for God, Our graves are merely doorways cut in sod.^c

What can you learn from Reepicheep the mouse? From Emily and her mother? Why not ponder their stories and Calvin Miller’s poem throughout this day, and see what encouragement they bring.

God, infuse us with a biblically based optimism. Help us to look beyond this brief life to the everlasting life that follows it in the world to come. Help us to make our daily choices now in light of eternity. Like Reepicheep, give us a bold passion that steps out in faith, moving forward in our quest to follow you to Heaven itself. Comfort us with the knowledge that our loved ones who love you will join us in that world. Remind us that you have taken away the sting of death, that death is not a hole but a tunnel. Our graves are merely doorways cut in sod—doorways that lead directly to you. “This is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.”^d