The Susan Syndrome

Hello my name is Susan. Or maybe Susan’s name should have been Vickie? Cut to the chase we are the same.

In the second Narnia book, there is a story that describes much of what I have felt in my purification journey with Christ. The children have returned to Narnia and one thousand years have passed since they last lived there. They are attempting to find Aslan’s Stone but are having a hard time since the paths, trees, and rivers have changed while they were away. One day on their journey, Lucy is certain that she has seen Aslan and that he seemed to want them to follow him. But the other children cannot see him, so they take a vote and decided instead to follow another path that seems easier to them. This path takes them all day to follow, it is long and hard and in the end they are unable to continue on it and must turn around. They lay down to sleep disheartened and exhausted. That night Lucy is woken by Aslan and reprimanded for not following him, even if the other did not go. Lucy wakes her sibling and again tries to convince them that Aslan is asking them to follow him into the woods. This time she can see him all the while but the others still cannot. She pleads with them that even if they will not come she must go. This pleading angers Susan, who states,

“Supposing I start behaving like Lucy… I might threaten to stay here whether the rest of you went on or not. I jolly well think I shall.”

Susan had in the previous days complained constantly about wanting to get out of the woods, and getting on with the walking so that she could just be out. She is in no mood to be further lost in the thick brush with nothing but the moons light around them. However, Lucy’s will prevails and they follow Lucy as she follows Aslan. He leads them through a narrow path that brings them quickly and safely to the stone they had been seeking. Along the way, one after another, the children begin to see Aslan until they all are very excited to meet him again, with the exception of Susan, who can now see him but lags behind.

Before they approach Aslan, Susan speaks to Lucy first,

“I see him now, I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright” says Lucy.

“But I’ve been far worse than you know. I really believed it was him—he, I mean—yesterday, when he warned us not to go down to the fir wood. And I really believed it was him tonight, when you woke us up. I mean, deep down inside. Or I could have, if I’d let myself. But I wanted to get out of the woods and-and-oh I don’t know… and whatever am I to say to him?”

Yup, same boat Susan, you and me.

It’s so hard when you get down in that thick forest and you just want to get in the open again, in the comfort and out of the dirt. All you can think is, “I just want out.” And in that moment you won’t say it and you won’t let yourself believe it, but you know he is there and he is leading you. But when it looks like it’s just deeper into the forest you close your eyes. And all the while he is right there, leading others around you and you look at them and the blank space ahead of them, and think “You are crazy… was I ever that Crazy?” And you know you have been, because here you are somehow in the woods, no sane person would come here. On you go following reluctantly, while Lucy happily trips along babbling about Aslan’s beauty and grace. It’s a bitter self-inflicted road, isn’t it Susan? The persons you should be finding comradery with and who used to lift your spirits, irritate you with their wild claims of his calm yet fierce face beckoning them forward. The journey is such a slow one that you cannot remember when it was you averted your gaze from his and now when you look at the empty space ahead you become angry that he would show himself to others and not to you… you know, if he really were there… leading those crazy persons. Then all at once you come over the rise and there is the stone but you can’t see it for Aslan standing right in front of you.


“Whatever am I to say to him?”


And Lucy suggests, ‘Perhaps you won’t need to say much.”


Susan, that’s when we know that we have been estranged from him, but he never was from us. We averted our eyes from his but he gazed all the while. We fretted about the gloom and the dirt and he paced about waiting for us to follow him through it.

“Then, after an awful pause, the deep voice said, ‘Susan.’ Susan made no answer but the others thought she was crying. ‘You have listened to fears, child,’ said Aslan. ‘Come let me breathe on you. Forget them. Are you brave again?’
 

‘A little, Aslan,’ said Susan.


‘And now!’ said Aslan with a much louder voice with just a hint of a roar in it, while his tail lashed his flanks.”

I regret every moment that I fail to see the Lion for the forest.

Jesus’ brother James wrote about us Susans, but he called us by another name, he called us “double minded.” As I read James 1:2-8, I began to feel despair remembering all the times, that I asked but did not believe. I relived all the moments that I felt blown and tossed by the wind; I felt deep regret that I could not expect to receive anything from the Lord by my attitude. For a long time, I despaired in these verses until I finally made it through to chapter 4.


  “Submit yourselves then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Grieve mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord and he will lift you up.” James 4:7-10.

We are there listed among those who are being called back. He takes us back, Susan, even in our double-minded self-deception. He is still reconciling even now.