Sidekick (or, Raxacoricofallapatorius, Part II)

Adventure. Peril. Derring-do. These are what Raxacoricofallapatorius has to do with it. In the spirit of embracing my identity--the identity I was born with, and the one I should be living out day to day--I hope to spend the next few weeks examining it and showing you, and me, how who I am on a practical, day to day level, has been molded around who I am at my most fundamental level...who I was created to be.

Raxacoricofallapatorius is unmistakable evidence that I was made to have epic adventures. I enjoy science fiction because I can lose myself in the world of mysterious planets and undiscovered species; I can become part of the story. One minute, I'm Princess Leia (who else?) holding on for dear life in the cockpit of the Milennium Falcon as Han Solo navigates an asteroid field at the speed of light. The next minute, I'm Dana Scully, running down shape-shifting aliens and battling government conspiracies. The next, I am Rose Tyler, shop girl, and I'm suddenly and quite unexpectedly being chased by mannequins who have suddenly and quite unexpectedly come to life, when this magnificent, if somewhat quirky, man who simply calls himself The Doctor, grabs my hand and saves my life (and the universe, for that matter), for the first of many, many times. And if that wasn't enough, he invites me into his spaceship and off we go traveling through space and time, saving the universe together from the likes of the Cybermen, the Daleks, and of course, the Slitheen of Raxacoricofallapatorius.

But it isn't just science fiction that feeds my appetite for adventure. I love quests and peril, I love the intrepid warrior, and most of all, I love the everyman who is unwittingly thrust into his own moment of greatness. The great epic adventures of our time are filled with unlikely heroes. Take Harry Potter, for instance. The poor kid was orphaned and almost killed as a baby. He had to grow up in a cupboard under the stairs in a home where he was unloved, neglected, and treated like a slave. Every parental figure he ever had was violently murdered--most of them right before his eyes. He was hated by half his school, denounced by the government and the press on several occasions, and forced to fight for his own life at least once a year. Needless to say, old Harry had it a little rough, but in the end, (spoiler alert) he rid the world of its greatest danger and restored peace to the lives of the people he loved.

Or take The Chronicles of Narnia. They tell the story of the Pevensies: four ordinary school children who stumble quite unwittingly into an unfamiliar and strange land full of evil and political corruption and who rise to stand on the side of good, defeating the forces of evil, and become kings and queens in the newly liberated Narnia, ruling justly and indeed being remembered as the architects of Narnia's Golden Age.

And, of course, The Lord of the Rings tells the story of the most unlikely hero of all--a tiny, nature-loving, meek Hobbit named Frodo Baggins who trudges across a continent on his stumpy little Hobbit legs, enduring battles and poisonous wounds, fording rivers and sleeping in the rocky wilderness, all the while being hunted by terrible creatures, fearing for his life at every turn, and moment by moment becoming more and more enslaved to the very evil he has gone on his quest to destroy. But destroy it he does, and becomes a legend in the process.

I love these stories because somewhere, deep down, I sense that I was made for that kind of adventure. And the truth is, I was. We all were. Adventure is part of our God-given identity. We are the unlikely heroes. We are the plucky sidekicks. As a human being bound to the earth and its immediate environs, I can't jump into The Doctor's time-and-space machine, as much as I'd like to, and see the universe one planet at a time. I can't save the world with a flick of my wand or jump through my grandmother's closet into a mysterious land of talking animals and evil witches. But that's ok. Because these stories are just a reflection, a hint, of the real adventure. And the real adventure is full of unlikely heroes and epic battles between good and evil. There is a valiant Hero on a white horse and there are plenty of damsels in distress. There is sacrifice and sorrow, and ultimately redemption and salvation and happily-ever-after.

That's the adventure I was made for. I have been designed for mystery and intrigue and for happily-ever-after. God made me to be a part of His story, Jesus secured my role as both sidekick and unlikely hero, and the Holy Spirit shows me the plot day after day and tells me where to stand to get the most action.

Raxacoricofallapatorius reminds me that I have an adventure of my own--a quest filled with peril and mystery, not to mention quite a spectacular love story. And with this adventure, I don't have to imagine I'm someone else. I am the sidekick, the unlikely hero. I have no idea what tomorrow holds, what battles I will fight, what mountains I will climb, or which alien species I'll have to face (my preference is Time Lord). But I know that there will be a happy ending, and that makes it all worth it.