Spending Time with Dragons

           To say that the last year of my life has not been challenging would be a lie. To say that regardless of the situation facing me, I have reflected the glory of God would also be a lie. But it is in the challenging times in our lives that force us to grow and find value.

As I said in an earlier post, I have been doing a lot of secular reading since June of this past summer because my job has required it of me. I have to say that I haven’t missed this particular type of reading, which might surprise the people that know I am an English teacher and an avid reader. However, years ago, at the request of my wise husband, I put aside secular literature and immersed myself in the Word and in only Christian literature. At the time, I wasn’t very happy about the request, but in retrospect, it changed my life for the better. I learned to be discerning about what I put in my mind. Now, as I read works of “literary merit” for the teaching I do, I find myself much more able to see the literature for what it is. As both a high schooler and a college student, I didn’t question much of what I put in my mind—if it were required, it must be of value. As an adult, I find that while there is merit of a sort in the stories and value to be found and lessons to be learned, the literature itself is sometimes repulsive to me.

I am currently teaching a novel by John Gardner called Grendel that employs the narrative point of view of the fabled monster of the Anglo-Saxon epic poem Beowulf. It is witty and engaging and disturbing, as it should be, considering that Grendel and his mother are described as descendants of Cain. When stretched beyond his ability to understand the situations he is encountering, Grendel feels drawn to the dragon (another antagonist in the novel); after making his mind a blank, Grendel pays a visit to the dragon’s lair because he has questions and is seeking answers. The dragon spouts philosophy that is mired in existentialism, and he mocks Grendel’s childlike feelings that he needs to change his ways after hearing the songs of the Shaper (a blind bard who sings of the deeds of man and of the Creator). Grendel has the notion that he should refuse to attack the humans, but the dragon insists that it is Grendel’s job to drive them to greatness by attacking them.

            Even though midway through his conversation with the dragon Grendel feels sure he is being lied to, by the time Grendel leaves the dragon, his mind is twisted from his time with the dragon. He says afterwards:

“Nothing was changed, everything was changed, by my having seen the dragon. It’s one thing to listen, full of scorn and doubt, to poets’ versions of time past and visions of time to come; it’s another to know, as coldly and simply as my mother knows her pile of bones, what is. Whatever I may have understood or misunderstood in the dragon’s talk, something much deeper stayed with me, became my aura. Futility, doom, became a smell in the air, pervasive and acrid as the dead smell after a forest fire—my scent and the world’s, the scent of trees, rocks, waterways wherever I went.” (75)

I may be reading things that wouldn’t be my first choice if reading leisurely, but because I have spent so much time with truth for so many years, I can recognize a lie when I see one. The dragon, like the serpent of old, whispers lies into the souls of ones who spend time with him (or seek answers anywhere but in Christ). He will talk to those who seek him out—the confused, the hurting, the weary, the bitter—but he doesn’t have The Answer. Only Christ can save or deliver us from evil. Only Christ can make us better instead of bitter when challenging times come. So, it forces the question: Are we spending time with the dragon and reeking of the scent of the fires of hell, or are we spending time with Christ and becoming a fragrant aroma? II Corinthians 2:15 offers this analysis: “Our lives are a Christ-like fragrance rising up to God. But this fragrance is perceived differently by those who are being saved and by those who are perishing” (New Living Translation, 2007). We can't choose when challenging times come, but we can choose whom we spend time with when they do.