Always Winter, But Never Christmas
(Reflections on C.S. Lewis’ Narnia and the hope of new creation)
“It is winter in Narnia,” said Mr. Tumnus, “and has been for ever so long… always winter, but never Christmas.”
— C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
One of the most haunting and insightful lines in C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe introduces us to the land of Narnia—a world under an evil enchantment where it was always winter but never Christmas. What could be worse?
Lewis paints the picture vividly: the children find themselves standing fearful and confused in a land frozen and nearly lifeless. A single lamppost stands like a sentinel in the silence, its light glimmering faintly against the snow. The forest is blanketed in white, but it is not a peaceful snow—it is a suffocating stillness. The few creatures they encounter are frightened and paranoid, living in fear of the White Witch who has ruled over Narnia for “ever so long.”
“It is winter in Narnia,” says Mr. Tumnus, “and has been for ever so long…. always winter, but never Christmas.”
That line carries with it the weight of something much deeper than fairy tale magic. It is a dreadful description of life under the rule of evil—cold, joyless, and unchanging. A frozen world where hope seems like a rumor and warmth a forgotten dream.
Then suddenly, there is the sound of sleigh bells. At first, the children are terrified—it must be the Witch! They hide, trembling. But then, to their amazement, it is not the Witch at all. The sleigh is driven by a great, joyful figure dressed all in red and white. It is Father Christmas!
“I have broken through at last,” he declares. “She has kept me out for a long time, but her magic is weakening. Aslan is on the move! A merry Christmas! Long live the true King!”
Something inside us stirs when we hear those words. Even before we understand the full meaning, they ring with truth and hope. When I first read them as a boy, they made sense of something I already felt about the world. Now, years later, I understand them even more deeply. They have lived in me and with me for much of my life—and I feel their weight profoundly.
Like every other son of Adam and daughter of Eve, I know what it means to feel the winter of this weary world. Every one of us does. In our families, our friendships, our work, our cities, our hearts—we are burdened by what is tragically not the way it is supposed to be. We look around and see the ache of creation, the suffering of the innocent, the brokenness of relationships, the heaviness of sin, and the constant reminder that all is not yet well.
“The creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God.”
— Romans 8:20–21
Everywhere we turn, we see the tension between what is and what ought to be—the “already but not yet” of the gospel story. In our most intimate relationships, in our public life, in our work and calling, we wrestle with the disconnect between the beauty God intended and the brokenness we experience.
Always winter. Never Christmas.
And yet, into this weary winter world, comes the announcement of good news of great joy for all people. A Savior has come. The long night is ending. The curse is breaking.
“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.”
— Isaiah 9:2
When Father Christmas appears in Narnia, he is not merely bringing toys—he is proclaiming that the curse is weakening. The presence of joy and generosity itself is a sign that the King’s power is breaking through. And so it is with the true Christmas: the birth of Jesus Christ is the announcement that evil’s reign is temporary, that the long winter is melting, that Aslan is on the move.
“Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.
Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.”
— Luke 2:10–11
Christmas is not a sentimental escape from reality—it is the invasion of hope into the heart of despair. It is the first green shoot breaking through the snow, the first warmth returning to a frozen world. The Word became flesh, and the winter began to thaw.
So yes, I have staked my life on something more. I believe in Christmas—not just as a date on the calendar, but as the decisive declaration that God has come, that love has triumphed, and that this world, as cold and cursed as it sometimes feels, will not always be winter.
Christmas has come. And Christmas is coming. The light has already dawned, but one day it will fill the whole earth. I am longing for that day when the blessings of His rule will flow “far as the curse is found.”
“No more let sins and sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found.”
— Isaac Watts, “Joy to the World”
When Father Christmas departs, he calls out, “A Merry Christmas! Long live the true King!” That’s the message of our faith as well. The True King has come—and He will come again.
“Behold, I am making all things new.”
— Revelation 21:5
So when the world feels cold and lifeless, when the days seem endless and the light dim, remember—Christmas has broken through at last. The long winter is melting away. The King is on the move.
“Do not be afraid,” cries Christmas. “Winter has begun to melt away. I have broken through at last—long live the true King.”
Reflection Questions
- Where do you see the “winter” of this fallen world in your own life right now?
- How does the message of Christ’s coming give you courage and warmth in a cold season?
- What might it mean for you to live with the hope that Aslan is on the move?
Prayer
Lord Jesus, You have broken through the long winter of sin and sorrow. Melt the coldness in my heart with the warmth of Your presence. Help me to live as one who believes the curse is breaking and the True King is reigning. May Your light shine through me until the day when all things are made new.
Amen.