missing the magic

I pulled out my Bible this week, the one I used during some of the most formative, passionate, mountaintop moments of my Christian faith. 

I flipped through the pages. Countless underlines, notes, stars, arrows in the margins. Circles around significant words. Question marks. Exclamation points. 

I was struck with a sad feeling. One I’ve felt before. 

Flipping open my Bible, I realized how magical it used to feel. I never would have used the word “magic,” of course, but it really felt that way. Like I was looking for secret knowledge, divine codes, set for me if I just sought them. Like if I asked, anything could happen. Like I was on the same team as the deep magic of the world. 

Not having that anymore… I know the feeling. It feels like the sorrow I remember as a child when I realized I would never find a wardrobe that led to Narnia. The world just felt less… full of possibility. Less magical. 

I do believe there is still some kind of “magic” in the world, some mixture of unknown and possible. Chances are it is deeper inside me than I’ve ever thought to look. I hope I find it some day. 

Because I miss the magic.