It was sometime last year, on a fairly ordinary car journey, when the voice of my then-7-year-old son piped up from his usual seat in the boot. He announced that he’d memorised something, and asked if we wanted to hear it.
My wife and I gave each other a slightly bemused smirk and asked him to fire away. He then proceeded to recite word-for-word the entire opening sequence of a Christian Heroes biography on the famous 19th-century missionary, David Livingstone:
Something moved in the undergrowth. David Livingstone stopped in his tracks. Suddenly he saw the flick of a tail, a tan-coloured tail with a tuft at the end. As he looked closer he could make out the shape of a lion hidden among the bushes. Not a small lion, but one that must have weighed at least four hundred pounds, and now it was no more than ten feet away. Without taking his eyes off the huge animal for one second, David reached over his shoulder for his rifle. He put the stock of the gun to his shoulder and lined up the sights with the lion’s eyes. Smoothly he squeezed the trigger. Boom! The mouth of the rifle exploded in a flash of burning gunpowder. The lead bullet found its mark, slamming into the lion’s neck.But instead of falling over dead, the lion stood roaring in agony. David watched in amazement as it crouched back on its haunches and then leapt forward. The rifle flew from David Livingstone’s hand. Pain raced through David’s body as the lion’s claws clamped down hard on his left arm, each of the lion’s razor-sharp teeth cutting into his flesh. Before David knew what was happening, the beast had lifted him into the air and was shaking him like a cat shaking a mouse. Then it dropped him and pounced again, tightening its vicelike grip on his arm.
David felt the lion’s hot breath against his body and its saliva seeping through his torn jacket. The animal rested its paw on David’s head, and David could feel the point of each claw poised to rip his skull open. Through the searing pain in his body, David could feel his heart thumping wildly in his chest.
The Thing about Boys
Quite a way to spice up an ordinary car journey! He didn’t have the book with him. My 7-year old son had learned all of that by heart, of his own accord, and without even telling us he was doing it. This wasn’t a “normal” thing for him to do.
for virtually
all boys who’ve
ever walked
the earth,
there’s always
been something
unusually
thrilling
about lions
Why did he feel the need to memorise these words? Why did this scene motivate him to an almost absurd commitment to learning which no schoolteacher could ever have incited him to do?
Young boys seem to know – more than the rest of us – that the heart of the best stories is the adventure, the challenge, the fight. Much of contemporary society does its utmost to teach this instinct out of them, believing it will lead to inevitably toxic behaviour. This is why some argue that in many school classrooms, boys are often treated like defective girls. Boys tend to respond to danger, risk, and boundaries very differently. And in the imaginations of virtually all boys who’ve ever walked the earth, there’s always been something unusually thrilling about lions…
The Thing about Lions
It’s probably no coincidence that lions are mentioned over a hundred times in the Bible. In the ancient world, the lion was the classic symbol of the unpredictable danger of wild nature. The lion stood for all that might threaten to overpower and undo the efforts of man. This was the case because, well, it was often very literally the case!
In the British Museum you can glimpse the remarkable sight of the famous ancient relief sculptures of Assyrian Lion Hunts from 645BC. The point of these fascinating works of art seems to have been that the Assyrian kings felt the need to showcase their greatness by conquering and subduing these feared beasts. Lions have almost always been depicted throughout history as bold, aggressive, and dangerous. And for good reason.
This is also how we’re meant to understand the Devil’s attacks upon us as Christians:
Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. (1 Peter 5:8)
Those who see
their enemy in
light of faith
gravitate
towards courage
over cowardice.
Hunting Lions
When we contemplate the nature of this prowling, roaring lion, we must be watchful, careful, alert, wise, but not fearful. We should remember that God enables us to triumph over our enemies too. Remember when God’s Spirit rushes upon Samson, enabling him to tear apart a lion with his bare hands (Judges 14:5-6)? (Incidentally, why don’t we hear about that kind of “move of the Spirit” at charismatic conferences?).
Those who see their enemy in light of faith gravitate towards courage over cowardice. We see this in mighty men like Benaiah, who – as far as I can tell – we only really remember for things like this:
And Benaiah the son of Jehoiada was a valiant man of Kabzeel, a doer of great deeds. He struck down two heroes of Moab. He also went down and struck down a lion in a pit on a day when snow had fallen.
(1 Chronicles 11:22)
There’s something wonderful about the fact that a verse like that is in the Bible. If any of us had that on our gravestones, we’d be fairly content that we’d lived life to the full. Everyone wants the “abundant life” Jesus promises (John 10:10). What we often fail to realise is that life to the full probably has less to do with securing emotional and material comfort and more to do with fighting lions in pits on cold days.
life to the full
probably has
less to do with
securing
emotional and
material comfort
and more to do
with fighting
lions in pits
on cold days.
True, we’re not all meant to be Benaiahs, Samsons, or even David Livingstones. If you’re a Christian in the west it’s highly unlikely you’ll face any trouble with actual wild animals as long as you live. But whether you meet one in the Congo, on social media, in the staff room, or in the bathroom, there is a lion out there. That lion is lying in wait for you, and he’s not as metaphorical as you think.
Hiding Lions
The Devil may be a roaring lion, but he knows how to “prowl” too. Our enemies don’t always make it easy for us, and evil sometimes has a tendency to subtlety. In the psalms we hear about “wicked men” who hide like lions waiting to ambush their prey, whose very hiding conceals their wickedness:
His mouth is filled with cursing
and deceit and oppression; under
his tongue are mischief and iniquity.
He sits in ambush in the villages;
in hiding places he murders
the innocent. His eyes stealthily
watch for the helpless; he lurks in
ambush like a lion in his thicket
(Psalm 10:7-9)
The Unsafe Lion
Lest we forget, of course, there is another fairly important depiction of a lion in the Bible: Jesus, the conquering lion of Judah (Revelation 5:5). This is worth thinking about because it means, on some level, we’re supposed to know that Jesus is, in fact, dangerous.
it’s Jesus who
seems to lead
us into trouble.
That’s why
Christians
often do their
best to avoid
him.
There’s a much-quoted moment in C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Lucy asks if Aslan is “safe”, to which Beaver replies unequivocally: “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”
Sometimes we’re likely to be just as keen to avoid Jesus the lion as we are to avoid Satan the lion! In fact, if you look at the persecuted church throughout history, you could argue that it’s Jesus who seems to lead people into trouble. That’s why many Christians often do their best to avoid Jesus if they can. It’s easy to be a disciple until he asks you to follow him somewhere you don’t want to go.
Averse to Risk-Averse
When we think about the purpose of our life, we know there must be more than perpetual risk-aversion. We’re made for more than safety. In fact, living a life in perpetual safety is a far “riskier” idea than we might realise. Risk-aversion often leads to faith-aversion. And a life increasingly deficient in faith can be a surprisingly perilous one.
As much as Samson remains a sporadically good example, I suspect we’re not all supposed to go and tear apart lions with our bare hands. Clearly, Samson was something of a one-off, in many respects! And even Samson only did so by the power of the Spirit. We mustn’t think that our own autonomous strength will prevail against lions, metaphorical or otherwise. We need the help of the Lion who is dangerous to those who oppose his kingdom, but rescues those he loves. Indeed, He has a habit of rescuing his people from lions specifically.
The Lion’s Mouth
We need the
the Lion who
is dangerous
to those who
oppose his
kingdom, but
rescues those
he loves.
In his second letter to Timothy, Paul recounts the severe persecution he’d suffered for Jesus’ name. He then adds: “But the Lord stood by me and strengthened me…So I was rescued from the lion’s mouth.” (2 Timothy 4:17). He no doubt had the heroic Daniel in mind when he said this.
Paul was bold enough to see himself – as all believers should – in the same slipstream of Daniel’s centuries-old faith. It was such faith that could declare: “My God sent his angel and shut the lions’ mouths, and they have not harmed me, because I was found blameless before him” (Daniel 6:22).
Rescued for Boldness
Like Daniel, God rescues us not so we can stay hidden, but so we can grow bolder in our faith in Him. Indeed, where some wicked men lie in wait to attack, another kind run away at the first feeling of danger: “The wicked flee when no one pursues, but the righteous are bold as a lion.” (Proverbs 28:1).
God’s people (“the righteous”) are meant to be a people who stand up to tyrants, even if it costs us. We’re not meant to duck away when faced by evil and wickedness. God rescued us by grace for this very purpose, to embody his kingdom here on earth, emboldened to face ever greater lions.
I often wonder
if the reason
the western
church lacks
guts is that
most of us
haven’t had
to learn how
to trust God
against lions
or bears.
For David, from whose royal line the true lion-king would one day come, one especially emboldening day came when he faced a terrifying giant. It’s worth remembering that Goliath was so terrifying that his name has since become a common noun. Today we might literally describe Goliath as “a goliath of a man”!
Learning to Fight
When all the men of Israel (even the king) cowered before Goliath’s power, David was remarkably clear in what he believed: “The Lord who delivered me from the paw of the lion and from the paw of the bear will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine.” (1 Samuel 17:37). The righteous indeed are bold as a lion.
I often wonder if the reason the western church lacks guts when it matters is because, unlike David, most of us have never had to learn how to trust God against lions or bears first. When goliaths do come along, it’s no wonder that we lose heart if we’ve spent more time calculating how to avoid trouble than learning how to trust God in trouble.
When Sluggards Cry “Lion!”
In contrast to the lionhearted boldness of David, the proverbial “sluggard” moans that the impending danger is good reason to stay inside, out of harm’s way: “There is a lion outside. I will be killed in the streets!” (Proverbs 22:13). The sluggard (or, the coward) uses the fear of danger – real or imagined – to do nothing about anything. He ponders from his couch or keyboard all that might go wrong if he ever did get up and do something worthwhile out there, beyond the screen of his cushioned existence.
the sluggard
is not just a
coward, he’s
also a fool.
He fails to
recognise
that the lion
may already
be inside
the house
The respectable evangelical sluggard does the same today when he stays out of fights he knows he shouldn’t. Fear of PR damage, loss of career or ministry prospects, and the gleeful quoting of Paul saying “so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all” (Romans 12:18).
Paul seeks to avoid rabble-rousing or distractive controversies; he doesn’t mean to live peaceably with lions (metaphorical or otherwise)! Whether there’s a fight to be had or not, the sluggard pretends the fight wouldn’t be worth-it either way, and he’ll have no shortage of “biblical” excuses at the ready.
But the sluggard is not just a coward, he’s also a fool. He fails to recognise that the lion may already be inside the house, devouring him while he sleeps. That’s the thing about lions. Most of the time they’re prowling, not roaring. And before the Christian sluggard can launch an anonymous Twitter complaint about “inappropriate tone”, the drift towards faithlessness may already have begun.
So, whatever your lions look like, sober up and keep your fight going. Because, as David Livingstone found out, lions rarely go down without a fight.
[…] wrote recently about the danger of “lions” and how we often go out of our way to avoid fighting them. The sluggard in Proverbs, for example, […]