You know, a while ago, about fifteen years to be exact, if you had told me I would be going to church regularly, and enjoying it, I would have laughed at you till I couldn't breathe. I would not laugh at that thought any more. Not now. Not after what I discovered. Mum said that she found so much at the little church. Said she found all that she could ever need. I sighed. I had had all that I ever needed. I had found forgiveness for the worst kind of betrayal. I had had unconditional love from the one Person Who mattered most. And then we left. I lost nearly everything that I had come to love in those fifteen years. I still had my family, but all of my friends, my home, my power, my position, my people were gone. Even my body had changed from that of a twenty-five year old back to that of a ten year old. What hurt me most was losing Him. He had forgiven me after my horrible choice of betrayal. He had loved me more than any other person could. How could anything possibly fill that void? Sure I knew the basics of church going; give 10% to the church, come faithfully, God loves you. That was about all I knew. When we arrived at the morning service (too late for Sunday school) I was pretty much bored to death with the hymn singing and offering and the usual. (The music was nothing like a good old Narnian song, I thought.) When the pastor got up to preach, I expected to be bored again. I was surprised when he began to tell a story that I knew very, very well. He spoke of a man who hated everything and everyone¸ someone who did wrong all the time, whenever he could, and liked it. He spoke then of Someone Else Who loved this awful man no matter how bad he was, or what he did. He spoke of how this Someone actually gave up His life for that sinner. Then three days after His death, He rose again. He conquered death and its fear and sin and its guilt forever. I could hardly believe my ears. I knew this story oh, so well. That was my story. My redemption. During the end of the message, I could hardly stop myself from crying out of sheer amazement. It was Him! It was Aslan! I understood how Mum had found all that she needed. I found it to. After the message, the hymns sounded sweeter, more Narnian in a way that could not be measured, a way that was strange and not Narnian all at once. I could not believe it! He was here! I had found Him. I had finally found Him.