Do You Believe in Fairies?

 

My daughter, wearing a pair of sparkly wings disappeared into the garage squealing “Watch me, I’m going to fly!” and my brother-in-law breathed “What if she really took off flying?” I caught my breath and turned to see because in that instant I thought she would.
Saying I thought she would isn’t quite right.

I expected it. I knew it.  

I knew it.

My heart gave a wild throb because I just knew she would leave the pavement as it sloped away beneath her paddling feet. Nothing seems more evident than that she is meant to fly. I cannot convey the depth of my conviction she would. 




That is why I have fiercely enjoyed reading G.K. Chesterton’s Orthodoxy. Orthodoxy is the account of his faith journey in which he came to some extraordinary counter-cultural beliefs, then found they weren’t so new after all: They were already recorded in Christian dogma. A book tangentially about orthodox Christian dogma written in 1908 is not the first place you might look for a treatise on why fairy tales are important, or the value of patriotism in your planet, or a few other things that might surprise you, but there they are. I am trying to say why I love this book, but I can only think to say it is making me more me. Thank you, e-reader for not running out of highlighter fluid!

Every time I try to be rational instead of fanciful something in my soul shrivels and goes dormant. When I can’t first think that a rainbow is a promise (Gen. 9) or that I might see an angel in a flame or reflection of light because “He makes his angels winds, and his ministers a flame of fire.” (Heb. 1:7), I also find that I can’t believe that my vote counts, or that doing the dishes is of any use. I find I can’t dream of things to create when I don’t dream of a world in which the trees of the field voluntarily clap their hands (Is. 55:12) and stars sing for joy (Job 38:7). The great lie I grapple with is that this kind of starry eyed daydreaming is impractical, that I should get on with the mechanics of living in the here and now with both feet on the ground. I can’t refute the lie with logic, but I become a soulless automaton when I live it. It is only when I let myself see the world upside down that my life turns right side up.
There are a handful of authors whom I know have the same experience because I can hear it in their voices: The writer of Hebrews, George Macdonald, C.S. Lewis, G.K. Chesterton, John Eldredge, Stephen Lawhead, Dallas Willard. They believe in the same world I do. They see it, and they can make you see it too, so your head clears like the dizzy instant a Magic Eye picture resolves into 3D wonder.

For the last ten years I have fought this part of myself, calling it credulity, naiveté, or impracticality, but that’s over, because when I read Scripture on my own I find the same thing! It’s a deeply practical idealism, a marvelously magical reality, and here beside me I find some of the most amazing Christian thinkers of the past two centuries confirming what my instinct has been telling me always: That the world and it’s Creator are far more magical than most people will admit.

I choose starry eyes. I will keep looking to see my baby fly. And if I seem a little crazy, at least I am in the best of company.