Puddleglum's Wager

In C.S. Lewis's The Silver Chair, there is a moment that captures the very essence of faith. The marshwiggle Puddleglum and two children have journeyed deep underground to rescue a prince, only to encounter the Green Witch, who tries to enchant them into believing their world above never existed. She burns a sweet powder that clouds their minds, strumming a mandolin while insisting there is no sun, no Narnia, no Aslan. It is all, she says, a made-up dream.

The children begin to waver. The logic seems airtight. How do you prove the sun to someone who has never seen it?

Then Puddleglum, fighting through the fog, stamps out her enchanted fire with his bare foot. The pain clears his head just enough. He tells her that even if she is right, even if they did make it all up, the made-up world sounds far better than the real one she is offering. He would rather spend his life looking for Aslan than accept her cramped, sunless kingdom.

That is what faith looks like in the dark. It is not a feeling. It is not certainty. It is choosing to trust what the Almighty has shown you even when the world throws dust in your eyes. Faith says, "I have tasted something real, and I will not let go of it." The fog will come. Stamp it out and keep walking toward the light.