“Are you not thirsty?” said the lion.
“I’m dying of thirst,” said Jill.
“Then drink,” said the lion.
“May I — could I — would you mind going away while I do?” said Jill.
The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience.
The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.
“Will you promise not to — do anything to me, if I do come?” said Jill.
“I make no promise,” said the Lion.
Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.
“Do you eat girls?” she said.
“I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the Lion. It didn’t say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.
“I daren’t come and drink,” said Jill.
“Then you will die of thirst,” said the Lion.
“Oh dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer. “I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.”
“There is no other stream,” said the Lion.
—Excerpt from The Silver Chair, by C.S. Lewis
I love this scene because it’s one we all find ourselves in.
You were born with it. And can die of it, too.
You need water to live. But there’s just one problem: you can only get it from one source. And you have to cross a Lion to get there. (Who very well may swallow you up.)
Oh yes, you were made to be wild my friend. To drink deeply. To live truly. To wrestle and walk away with grass in your hair. To live life alive. And to discover the most terrifyingly beautiful One of all; the only one who gives you what you need. And crave.
Run barefoot to the ends of the earth and you will not find a love like this. Drink anything you like–but to find Living Water…
“There is no other stream.”