The World as Best it Could Be

Dealing With Doubt – Part 2

When John Bunyan, writer of The Pilgrim’s Progress was facing an intense mental struggle, a verse came to his mind that comforted him immensely. For over a year he tried to find this obscure little verse, until at last he realised that it was not in fact from the canonical Bible, but was actually a verse from the apocryphal book Ecclesiasticus. Bunyan later said, “At first this somewhat daunted me, but because by this time I had more experience of the love and kindness of God, it troubled me less, especially when I considered that though it was not in those texts which we call holy and canonical, it did contain the sum and substance of many of the promises and it was, therefore, my duty to take comfort from it.“

The Lord is free to comfort our hearts through whatever means he wills. For Bunyan it was an apocryphal book, for me it was a little less likely to be mistaken with Scripture. One of my greatest experiences of strengthening in doubt was the story of a Marsh-Wiggle by the name of Puddleglum.

One dark morning, before the golden rays of dawn had pierced the sky, I was knelt down, in agony as my heart and mind wrestled each other. By now I had come to the conclusion that there was no better story to explain the world and my experience of it, than that of Christianity, but at the same time that was a mere intellectual assent that was constantly being bombarded by the cynical nature of doubt.

As a child I had read the Chronicles of Narnia dozens of times. I had been enthralled by the adventures, mesmerised by the heroics, awed by the mighty Lion. The Silver Chair wouldn’t necessarily have been high in my favourites of the series as a child, but nor would it have been at the bottom of the list. The story centres around Eustace and Jill, transported to Narnia from our world, to join forces with the wry, cynical, but incredibly faithful Puddleglum, to track down and rescue Prince Rilian from the clutches of an evil Witch.

Now, in my darkest hour, the unimpressive trio of Jill, Eustace and Puddleglum traversed the wildest parts of Narnia, not merely to rescue Rilian from the underground kingdom, but to rescue me from the same enchantress who ruled it.

I would love to quote the whole chapter here, but you can find it at this link.

To summarise, the trio eventually make their way to the place where Rilian is being held – the Deep Realm, a kingdom underground, ruled by an enchantment-using Witch. They end up in a room with Rilian (under one of said enchantments) and the witch herself, who begins to question them as to where they have come from…

“When she had come to a little ark set in the wall not far from the fireplace, she opened it, and took out first a handful of a green powder. This she threw on the fire. It did not blaze much, but a very sweet and drowsy smell came from it. And all through the conversation which followed, that smell grew stronger, and filled the room, and made it harder to think. Secondly, she took out a musical instrument rather like a mandolin. She began to play it with her fingers — a steady, monotonous thrumming that you didn’t notice after a few minutes. But the less you noticed it, the more it got into your brain and your blood. This also made it hard to think. After she had thrummed for a time (and the sweet smell was now strong) she began speaking in a sweet, quiet voice.
“Narnia?” she said. “Narnia? … There is no land called Narnia.”

This is the beginning of the Witch’s enchantments. She uses the drowsy smell of the fire and the monotonous music to create a fog in their minds, then puts the first doubts in their minds by a simple assertion. There is no Narnia. And Puddleglum and the children begin to falter. “It’s somewhere up there”, they maintain, but without much clarity to their own convictions.

This is the way that doubt comes to us. A fogginess in the mind, a difficulty in maintaining thought. And a simple assertion that we would have otherwise have obviously rejected as false, even laughable, suddenly becomes somewhat plausible.

The captives start listing things which they have experienced and know to be true. But as the Witch counters each one with mockery and confidence, slowly their fortitude fails, and convictions falter.

“Of course a lot of things darted into Jill’s head at once… But they seemed dim and far away.
(Thrum — thrum — thrum — went the strings of the Witch’s instrument.) Jill couldn’t remember the names of the things in our world.
And this time it didn’t come into her head that she was being
enchanted, for now the magic was in its full strength; and of course, the more enchanted you get, the more certain you feel that you are not enchanted at all. She found herself saying (and at the moment it was a relief to say):
“No. I suppose that other world must be all a dream.”
“Yes. It is all a dream,” said the Witch, always thrumming.
“Yes, all a dream,” said Jill.
“There never was such a world,” said the Witch.
“No,” said Jill and Scrubb, “never was such a world.”
“There never was any world but mine,” said the Witch.
“There never was any world but yours,” said they.”

But Puddleglum, faithful old Puddleglum, puts up more of a fight. He speaks of what he has seen. He, in the haze of his mind, speaks of the beauty he has experienced, and of the conviction that any cloudiness surrounding those thoughts must be the Witch’s spell. His words rouse the others momentarily. (This is the importance of continually speaking truth to those facing doubt. It breaks through the haze.)

But the Witch gets more urgent in her enchanting. As they speak of the sun she mocks them for their lack of clarity about explaining it. “You see? When you try to think out clearly what this sun must be, you cannot tell me. You can only tell me it is like the lamp. Your sun is a dream; and there is nothing in that dream that was not copied from the lamp. The lamp is the real thing; the sun is but a tale, a children’s story.””

She speaks similarly when they speak about Aslan, telling them that they have but projected their wishes and fantasies onto what they have seen of a cat. And at this point the smoke of the fire and the thrum of the music have almost completely sent them into an enchantment. But then, Puddleglum.

The Marsh-wiggle draws upon every last bit of strength that he has and walks over to the fire. He stamps it out with his webbed feet, and the smell of incense is replaced with the smell of burnt marsh-wiggle. The fog begins to clear in their minds, the Witch no longer tries to lull them to sleep with sweetness, and Puddleglum comes out with the clarity of mind to proclaim the words that helped me so much that dark morning of wrestling:

“One word, Ma’am,” he said, coming back from the fire; limping, because of the pain. “One word. All you’ve been saying is quite right, I shouldn’t wonder. I’m a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won’t deny any of what you said.
But there’s one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things — trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that’s a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We’re just babies making up a game, if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the play-world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we’re leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that’s small loss if the world’s as dull a place as you say.“

Here they are, still in the Underworld. Still for the next moments prisoners. Still a long way off getting back to the light of day. Still a far cry from confirming to themselves that the things they spoke of were indeed true and that the Witch was lying. It would take several chapters until they emerge into daylight once more. Their experience of darkness is not over yet. And yet, the spell of doubt has been broken. The haziness has dispelled somewhat.

Puddleglum’s reasoning helped me greatly. Even if I couldn’t identify the source of the smoke that dizzied me, or the monotonous music that lulled me into a sleep of despair that the true Overworld, the Heavenly Kingdom, existed as I remembered it, nonetheless I had Puddleglum to stand on the fire for me.

I had experienced so much since being part of God’s family. I had seen the church take care of each other in a way that those outside just never did. I had seen the multitude of hospitals and schools that only exist because Christians once set them up. I had seen people’s lives be turned around, from something horrifying to something beautiful. I had seen widows and orphans cared for, and a host of other things. Even if it was all based on a false reality, even if the message of Christianity wasn’t true, even if Christians just project Jesus onto a wish that they have for a hero to save the day, it is still better than the world that would exist outside of that.

Tom Holland (the historian, not actor) in his book Dominion, recognises this. Even as an agnostic/atheist, he realises that the blessings of modern society in the West, that we enjoy, are because of Christianity. Even if it is based on a false premise, it is inherently good. Yes, there are scandals and problems in Christianity. But you will find that around the world in every society. The beauty of the church is the reality that I want to live in.

At that time, just like our trio and Rilian, there was a long road out of the darkness. But the power had been sapped from the spell. I could still hold to my faith, even though it be with a trembling hand, as I slowly walked the path back into the light. I would rather be on Jesus’ side even though my belief wavered, than live in a world where it was untrue and where all the beauty I had seen would vanish too. It wasn’t a complete answer to doubt, but it made me realise the power of the enchantress and broke the spell enough to bring a trembling faith back into my heart, and lead me out of the locked chamber, into the darkness that could lead me to light.

And now, to the task of convincing my wife to allow me to name our next child Puddleglum…