The Wardrobe Door

In C.S. Lewis's The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, young Lucy Pevensie steps through a wardrobe into a world she has never seen. She doesn't have a map. She doesn't know who she'll meet or whether the snow-covered forest is safe. She simply walks forward, one step at a time, deeper into Narnia.

What strikes me about that moment is how ordinary it looks. Lucy isn't performing an act of heroism. She's just curious enough to keep going when everything inside her says this shouldn't be possible. The fur coats give way to pine branches. The mothball smell fades into cold, clean air. And she keeps walking.

Trust works the same way in the life of faith. We rarely get the full picture before God asks us to move. Abraham left Ur without a destination. Moses approached Pharaoh without a guarantee. The disciples dropped their nets before they understood who was calling them. Trust is not the absence of uncertainty — it is the willingness to take the next step when you cannot see the floor beneath it.

Lewis understood this deeply. He once wrote that faith is the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted, in spite of your changing moods. Trust is not a feeling. It is a decision to keep walking forward when the wardrobe behind you has disappeared and all you can see are trees you've never climbed.

The God who calls you forward has already walked the path ahead of you.