We wrap up this four-part series exploring how we can fulfill our calling as Christians by cultivating “Narnian” hearts that sow the kingdom on earth, growing “little Edens.” See parts one, two, and three for discussions of our world’s sickness and our calling, cultivating love over selfishness, and biblical dominion.
By Karissa Riffel
When we first meet Digory in C.S. Lewis’ The Magician's Nephew, he is sobbing in the garden. They have moved from the country to a cramped London townhouse so his aunt and uncle can take care of his mother and—presumably—make her comfortable until her passing. The story begins with a deep despair.
Heart’s Desire
Later, in Narnia, when the Queen tempts Digory in the garden, her face is pale and her mouth rimmed in red, signifying the forbidden apple she has eaten—she has fully devolved into the Witch. Digory reflects that the sign on the garden must have been correct about gaining one’s heart’s desire and despair. His own heart’s desire—a cure for his mother—is not immediately fulfilled. When Digory climbs the mountain with Polly to retrieve the apple, he must trust in Aslan. At that time, he does not know that Aslan plans to give him an apple from the new tree they will plant in Narnia. He knows only that he must be obedient.
And, as Aslan tells him later, if Digory had stolen one of the apples for his mother, he would have gained despair along with his heart’s desire. Apart from Christ, the desires of our heart lead to death.
Faithful with the Gifts
Digory chooses to put his hope in Aslan even though he does not know the outcome. Then later, when Aslan gives him an apple from the new tree, he must be faithful with this gift. He gives it to his mother who makes a miraculous recovery. Then he buries the applecore in the garden with the rings. Likewise, as Christians we ought to be faithful with the gifts we have been given, even if they are not what we wanted or expected: skills and talents, money, time, even seasons in life. We can follow Digory’s model of trust in Aslan and trust that Christ, who began a good work in us, will carry it on to completion. Afterall, these gifts are a primary way that we can build the kingdom on earth—or our “little Edens.”
Disordered Loves
However, as we have seen, the desires of our heart can be self-centered and downright evil. It is perhaps a little too easy to see ourselves in the characters of the Witch or Uncle Andrew, choosing selfishness in lieu of the good of others. Bodies fail, hearts break, and some days it feels like evil is winning. How can we grow little Edens when our hearts are desperately sick?
In The Abolition of Man, Lewis discusses the problem he calls “men without chests”—that is, people who are lacking right affections.[1] Here, he plays on the ancient concept of the human soul as having one’s affections literally seated in the chest. Augustine characterizes all sin as “disordered loves.” When our affections are ordered rightly, we choose rightly, such as valuing others over ourselves.
Garden to Garden to Garden
The scene of Digory crying in the garden might bring to mind another scene from Scripture: Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane the night before his crucifixion. In both instances, Digory and Jesus feel the kind of deep despair that only comes from dealing with the effects of the fall—Digory with illness and Jesus with the prospect of bearing the weight of the world’s sin as well as his own death. But this is not the end of either of their stories. Healing is coming, resurrection awaits.
Oddly enough, both of these tales end where they began. After his resurrection, Jesus meets Mary Magdalene in a garden. Digory plants the apple core and the rings in the garden where a tree sprouts, the tree that will eventually become the wardrobe that leads back to Narnia. In both narratives, the repetition causes us to remember Eden or that idyllic, Narnian garden where intimacy with the goodness of God was a palpable reality. It also makes us look ahead to the day when we will get back to “Narnia”—the day the kingdom will come in its full glory. Until then, though, we are left grappling with the effects of sin in the world and in our hearts.
Narnian Hearts
The cultivation of a human heart that desires God is a long and slow process with seasons of flourishing and drought. This is the paradox of sanctification: that the breaking from sin creates conflict with it. And yet our greatest hope is that the strength to order our affections does not come from us. As Digory hopes in Aslan, we hope in Christ. He is the one who molds our hearts. When we plant our trees, when we choose love over selfishness, we are participating in the healing of the world; we are cultivating true Narnian hearts.
REVIEW THE SERIES
Part 1: “The Planting of Toffee Trees”
Part 2: “Take of My Fruit for Others”
Karissa Riffel is an English teacher, mother, and cohost of the Lit Ladies podcast. Her short fiction has appeared in various magazines and anthologies. Her nonfiction has appeared on The Rabbit Room blog and is forthcoming by the CiRCE Institute. She writes about art, literature, and faith on her Substack Midnight Ink.
[1] C. S. Lewis, The Magician’s Nephew (Harper Trophy, 1994), 26.