I was tasked with preparing the children's sermon for Sunday morning. Bill would be preaching from Acts 11, on how a critical spirit robs us of joy, and how truth transforms a critical spirit into a joyful spirit, a spirit able to see and to celebrate God's goodness and grace.
Peter, in Acts 10, had been critical of non-Jews, unwilling to associate with them. God changed Peter's heart, and then, through Peter's obedience, brought Cornelius (a Roman centurion) and several other Gentiles into the family of God.
Peter returned to his Jewish friends in Jerusalem, eager to share the good news of how God was bringing even non-Jews to faith in Christ. Peter's Jewish friends, however, were more concerned that Peter had spent time with and eaten with "unclean" Gentiles. They responded to Peter's news not with joyful celebration, but with criticism. Like Peter, they needed God to change their hearts.
Reflecting on the events of Acts 10 and 11, I thought of Eustace Scrubb, the boy who because of dragonish thoughts in his heart, became an actual dragon (The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, C. S. Lewis). Like Peter, and like Peter's friends in Jerusalem, Eustace had a critical spirit. He complained about everyone and everything, making himself and those around him miserable.
Eustace was a dragon long before he took on scales, claws, and leathery wings. His outward transformation simply reflected the inward condition of an already serpentine heart.
In order for Eustace to live - and to experience any measure of joy and contentment - he had to be un-dragoned. Just like Peter. Just like Peter's friends. Just like me.
And so, as I was praying and studying and thinking how best to present this lesson to young children, I thought, "I really wish I had a dragon to show the children, not a cute dragon but one that is fierce and dangerous, with sharp teeth and claws, one the children can see and touch."
I learned last week that dragons are very rare in Obion County. (Actually, dragons are everywhere here, but maybe because people are so desperate to deny these dragons exist, they refuse to keep even toy dragons around.) I looked everywhere I could think...no dragon.
Finally! I found a dragon, a perfect dragon - scaly, sharp-toothed, claws bared and outstretched - at Rural King in Martin. He was beautiful! He was also expensive, too expensive for my small budget, and definitely too expensive to justify for a one-Sunday-morning children's lesson. I returned the red dragon to the store display with a sigh. Maybe I could find another dragon elsewhere.
Saturday morning, still no dragon. And here is where my story gets fun...
I requested a book via inter-library loan at the OC library a couple of weeks ago. The book was expected to arrive a week ago last Wednesday. The book was not on my summer to-read list - I requested the book because it had been recommended by a dear friend.
The book took longer to arrive than expected. I received a call from the library on Friday - I could come pick up my book. "I can't make it to Union City today - may I pick it up tomorrow?"
"Absolutely! It will be waiting for you at the circulation desk."
Saturday morning, I drove to Union City for the book. "Lord," I prayed, "I know this is a ridiculous request, but could you please send me a dragon?" I thought perhaps Carolina, the children's librarian, might have a dragon. I would ask. "Please, Lord?"
Carolina wasn't at the library Saturday morning, and none of the other librarians knew of any dragons on the premises. I checked out my book and turned to leave.
Sign-up for youth soccer was at the library Saturday morning. I ran into my nephew and his young son. We exchanged greetings and hugs.
"You don't by any chance have a dragon, do you?"
"No, no, we don't have a dragon," my nephew grinned. He's accustomed to my strange questions.
I headed out the door. On the sidewalk out front, I met another nephew and his young son. (I'm from a large family.)
"Hi!"
"Hi! What are you doing here?"
We exchanged hugs. "You don't by any chance have a dragon, do you?" I ventured.
"Of course we have a dragon," Brian answered matter-of-factly. "Doesn't everybody?"
"No! I've been looking all over for one. Could I PLEASE borrow your dragon?!"
Brian turned to his young son. "Jack, may Aunt Camille borrow your dragon?"
Jack asked me a few questions: why did I want to borrow his dragon? how long would I want to keep it? would it be safe? He thought a moment. "Yes, you can borrow my dragon."
"We'll run it by your house this afternoon," Brian offered.
I drove home thanking and praising God. The Creator and Sustainer of the universe heard my silly little prayer and granted my request. It astounded me to think that weeks, even months before I had any desire for a toy dragon, God put wheels in motion to grant my request - the book loan, the delayed delivery, the summer soccer sign-up schedule, a "chance" meeting at the library.
Brain knocked on my door Saturday afternoon and delivered the dragon, the very same dragon, in fact, that I had found at Rural King earlier in the week. I had stood in Rural King, thinking how perfectly the dragon fit my purpose, and all the while, God had the same dragon waiting for me, in the care of my young grand-nephew.
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader was published in 1952, twelve years before I was born. I discovered this beautiful story - and Eustace Clarence Scrubb - when I was a child, then rediscovered it when I had children of my own. God brought this story to mind again, last week, as I prepared Sunday's lesson.
Who knows how long ago a worker at a toy factory in Germany molded and painted Jack's small dragon. Who knows the intricate path this dragon traveled, across an ocean, to a toy store somewhere in America, to my little nephew.
To me.
Just the right place, at just the right time.
Little dragon, you have emboldened me to pray bigger, to pray braver. You have reminded me anew: there is nothing my God cannot do.
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