reality

It's late, but I need to get this out of my head.

Timothy and I just watched a rather lengthy trailer for the The Lord of the Rings trilogy. We sat there and mused about how good the first one was and how we'd all but forgotten it over the last few years. By the time the third film is a hit it's easy to have forgotten how the first one inspired you.

We talked briefly about how the first of any series would be a natural candidate for the best of the series: the conflict is presented, tension mounts but is hardly resolved, characters are still relatively static, etc. There is still mystery. There's still fear. There's still hope, and there's still the unknown.

Mysterious scenes of something once forgotten that never should have been. The troubling revelation of the truth and what must be done. Clips of boldness in the face of despair, courage in the face of fear, hope in the face of sorrow. (All set to an emotionally wrenching score, of course.)

Several minutes into the trailer something began to stir inside of me. I'm not a nerd about The Lord of the Rings. That wasn't it. It was something familiar and as I listened to it instead of the symphony coming from the MacBook I recognized it.

It was the same thing I felt recently as I listened to Misty Edwards singing a song I've heard hundreds of times. "I can hear the rhythm of the Lion of the tribe of Judah ... I can hear the rhythm of the Lion of the tribe of Judah ..."

I was just driving a couple weeks ago and hadn't paid much attention to the rest of the song, but that line grabbed me suddenly and I thought about my King.

"I can hear the rhythm of the Lion of the tribe of Judah ..."

Every good King ever scripted was modeled after my King. Every righteous cause was modeled after His love for His bride and His people. Every story of good versus evil is His story; every battle scene is His battle; every hero is Him. There is nothing new under the sun because He is all there is.

Those stories are my reality. I am the woman in armor who does what no man could do on behalf of my King. I am the target of those motivating, pre-battle speeches. I am Jean d'Arc who pulls an arrow from her own chest and immediately returns to the battlefield. I am because He is.

My King is the one who was born to be King. My King is the Lion. My King is the One just and good, righteous and merciful, beginning and end.

Why don't we live this way? Why do my emotions respond to stories that are just lukewarm re-tellings of my own story? Why is the adventure so hard to maintain?

"I can hear the rhythm of the Lion of the tribe of Judah ..."

I like war movies. I thought everyone liked war movies until I overheard my husband and TK talking one day about how cool it is that I like war movies.

Saving Private Ryan is a good war movie. The premise is good. The action is good. The cinematography is good. The score is good. The characters are good - except that one. There is one character in that movie that I cannot stand, and it may just be because I get too involved in movies.

He's the small, skinny guy who gets brought along because he speaks German and he's good for something else. He's never been in combat before. He's a sissy. It's not his fault, but it's a fact. And I'm alright with him being a sissy until the last battle of the movie.

There's one scene in that last battle wherein two of his guys are killed. The one immediately, the other very slowly. And the whole time, he is cowering only a few feet away with a weapon in his hand allowing it to happen because he's afraid.

I've seen the movie a dozen times and still, every time it comes to that part I yell at the screen hoping that one of these days that guy will do something. But he never does.

I don't want to be that guy.

If this is true, if My King is who He says He is, then my life is every dramatic, inspiring, action-packed, adventure that has ever been told in print or picture. I need to remember that. I need to see it every day. I need to put on the full armor of Christ, take up my cross and die daily because if I don't I will cower in the stairwell, weapon in hand, while people die.

"I can hear the rhythm of the Lion of the tribe of Judah ..." Can you?