For this assignment we were supposed to describe meeting someone famous. If we hadn’t met someone famous, who would we like to meet? In my response, I address a person I would like to meet, but I also take some time to explore the decision making process that got me there.
I dive deep into a sea of memories, searching for famous. But I’ve never had much contact with that elusive quality and mind-fingers grope blindly. My encounters include shaking hands with Brother Andrew and a George Bush rally. Impressive.
Since I can’t claim any particular link to famous, imagination and I are left to conjure up an encounter. The prospect nearly paralyzes this perfectionist’s mind and I flounder in endless possibilities.
Pick already! I demand after an entire week of wondering.
I glance back at the assignment: pick a famous person…
And my mind screams distortions: pick the one famous person you would most like to meet if you only had one chance, one choice ever.
Talk about pressure. I remind myself that my life does not depend on the choice I make. Perhaps it’s time for that unsatisfactory standby: eenie, meenie, miney, mo…
Clive Staples Lewis.
I admit the meeting would intimidate me. Brilliant minds always do. But I would still like to meet this man who could articulate my faith so well.
Lewis’s logical arguments and explanations in Mere Christianity have helped me immeasurably as I struggle to make sense of reality. In Screwtape, Lewis has often held a mirror to my life. And of course, I was brought up on the Chronicles of Narnia. If our conversation turned to those books, I would ask him about Emeth, the Calormen soldier from “The Last Battle.” What did he intend to say about entrance into heaven? And if I was really brave, I would also ask him what exactly was up with “Till We Have Faces.” But it takes a lot of courage to look ignorant.
So there. I’ve picked a meeting I would enjoy. But if I could meet someone un-famous and obscure, do you know who I would choose? It didn’t take me a week to figure this one out. I would greet Marquise and Martine again. I would pray with them for a family. And I would hold my Haiti-girls, God’s Haiti-girls, and love them.