The Lion

Valerie and I returned last week from a delightful trip. Twice previously we had planned a trip to celebrate the hoped-for end of what would become a two year transitional pastor journey; both of those trips, while thoroughly enjoyable, turned out to be premature. So having finally completed the interim in July, we decided it would be a good time to enjoy a repositioning cruise from Vancouver, BC, to San Diego, California. It turned out to be great timing for a west coast cruise, beautiful and very smooth, complete with near perfect weather and migrating whales.

Some cruises are all about the destination; others are all about the journey. While both the journey and destination were great, this cruise seemed to be all about the people we encountered along the way. Some of those were planned encounters - cousins in Vancouver, my brother and his wife who met us in Santa Barbara, missionary friends who met up with us in San Diego. Others were unplanned serendipitous blessings, like Lisa, QuickShuttle's only female driver, or Leocer, who just might be Holland America's most congenial server and who brightened and blessed our day every time we saw him.

Trish Hanson was one of those serendipitous encounters. Trish is an artisan and outspoken Christian that we met on the dock in Astoria. Several artisans had booths set up, ready to entice folks leaving and returning to the ship with a wide variety of things, some beautiful and others of questionable value. (Like vegan shortbread, two words that my Scottish heart firmly believes should never appear on the same label.) But it was Trish’s booth that most captivated us with her collection of laser-crafted wood images with a message. And this lion was our personal favorite.

She calls it “The Lion of Judah,” and if you get close enough, you'll discover it consists of a two word phrase repeated 365 times: Fear not. Her art, she says, is part of her healing, and clearly there was a story - or perhaps multiple stories - behind the intricate design and careful creation of this lion. The personal pain of her past had found expression not in chaos or anger but in beauty and faith.

We really hadn’t planned to buy stuff in Astoria, but the Lion of Judah now hangs on our living room wall. I sit in my chair, and like Aslan in Narnia, the Lion looks at me inviting me to trust, and reminding me every day to fear not.