The Frustration of a Faith-Glimpse

Wow. How nice it feels to break from the paper prep that one is doing for other classes for a nice, light blog entry. Huzzah! And here we are, 12:20 at night in the Library, ready to ruminate on Till We Have Faces.

Have you read this one yet? Probably not. I had no idea it existed until I took the class...but it's phenomenal. I'm blogging tonight about what I took from the first half: What faith looks like, and how easy it is to talk yourself out of operating on faith.

It's gonna take a bit of catch up for you to understand the significance of all this (READ THE BOOK!!), but I'll do what I can. The First book is a tale of two sisters--one Ugly and one Beautiful. The beautiful one (Psyche) is sacrificed to the gods when the kingdom goes through a period of famine, and the drought ends. Orual (the ugly sister) is devastated, and eventually goes off to find Psyche, to see if she can gather anything that remains of her sacrifice. To her shock, she finds Psyche, whole and healthy across the river from where she was sacrificed. Psyche tells her that she is the wife of a God, living in elegance and comfort. She glows to talk of her new husband, and encourages Orual to partake of the goodness of her new home. Orual expresses excitement to see where Psyche now lives, and asks to be taken there...but Psyche, with some confusion, tells Orual to look around her; that they are standing in the midst of her glorious house now. Orual can see nothing, and (with some fear) concludes that the either Gods are tricking her, or her sister is mad. Believing moreso in the second option, Orual and Psyche part, devastated and confused at their extreme break in understanding.

Orual starts to head home...but for one moment, as she's taking a drink from the stream, sees the house that her sister describes: Turreted and majestic, beyond anything Orual believes she could've imagined on her own. In a few seconds however, the house disappears and Orual is stuck again with a limited vision and some major decisions to make.

As she relays the story to her trusted advisors, they convince her that Psyche is being tricked. That her husband is really some great beast or a common robber doping her into believing this nonsense about a house and being the wife of a God. Discounting her vision, Orual believes them, and goes on to destroy  Psyche's happiness (turns out the house and God were real after all). Falling into a great depression, Orual returns to her kingdom and never sees Psyche again. Later she writes this book, raging against the Gods for being so unclear. If they want her to do something, why don't they make it obvious? If they're just going to meddle with things, why didn't they leave her alone? Orual is tormented by bitterness against the Gods for taking her sister from her, and being so manipulative in showing her a half vision of right and wrong.

See! That was a lot of Catch up! READ THE BOOK! Anyways...what I want to focus on is that glimpse of the house by the river before Orual goes on to ruin both her life and her sister's. Oh goodness. How often do we get these sorts of glimpses and disregard them, or rationalize them away as we look for more logical solutions to our problems? It's haunting, really. That things could've been different had we just trusted our impressions from the get go.

I know for me that this takes a lot of faith; to continue forth with the plan I felt was previously inspired, though I may not feel so now. I'm a horrible daughter--I continue to supplicate for assurances, and have difficulty saying, Heavenly Father showed me once; I can go forward now. I want the lights on as I continue down the path of life; the spritzy flashlight on the other handis really tough to consign myself to.

However, there are a couple things to remember: 1) That one of the reasons we sometimes get shoddy visions of things is that Heavenly Father doesn't want us to be accountable for sinning against greater light. The better our knowledge beforehand, the deeper our transgression when we choose not to follow that knowledge. The spritzy view of our future is on one hand frustrating, but on the other a protection for us. 2) Though we may always be tormented with what 'might have been' had we listened/trusted/moved with greater faith, through the Atonement any path can be molded to fit our needs and help us reach our potential. One of my favorite quotes as of late (don't know where it's from :/) is that reaching our potential is always possible as long as we keep repenting. No matter how many divergences we have from our most coveted life plan (hopefully that which is closest to Heavenly Father's will for us), these divergences can be reconciled as we do what we can to return to harmony with him. Orual's life wasn't ruined after she forced her sister into betrayal--in the long term at least. It was made harder, and so was Psyche's, but both learned and grew in ways that were still good, if not as easy. Both were forgiven, and restored to former blessings.

The Gospel's pretty awesome guys. Scary scary to live sometimes...but a blessing. Today I've reflected a lot on Lehi's favorite maxim from the Book of Mormon: "Inasmuch as ye keep my commandments ye will prosper in the land, but inasmuch as ye keep not my commandments, ye shall be cut off from my presence." People break Heavenly Father's commandments all the time, and they can still find the way to reasonably healthy, productive lives. However, they find their own way, and suffer without the support of a Heavenly Father who loves them. When we self-correct, come back to a place of resonance with who we are and what we should be doing, we're brought back into harmony with the Spirit, and begin to prosper under the direction of his hand again. And we can do that with greatest ease when we heed the signs--the peace, the directives...even when we're unsure of the path ahead.

Love, Suffering and Self-Sufficiency

As I've just started my Thanksgiving Vacation, I don't have access to the books I would otherwise like to write on. I still have the ideas in my head, but the specific quotes...are gonna be hard to attain. So! We'll stick to summaries.

I've been thinking a lot about an adage that I believe was in A Grief Observed (wonderful book if you haven't read it; way different than his other stuff. Phew.). Lewis talks about how remarkable it is that God loves us, and still wants us even when we would have other things. Can you imagine? Someone offers you the most perfect love, and instead of reciprocating you throw your life and attention into achieving your dream career. Or wheedling at your own imperfections. Or romancing your significant other. Even when we don't give him the time and attention he deserves, even when we let other things overtake our mind and parade about our heart, he's still there; arms open. That takes some serious perspective and humility.

Also, I've been thinking. In Lewis' opening monologue of Shadowlands, he states that "suffering...[is the] mechanism that will penetrate our selfishness and wake us up to the presence of others in the world." I've experienced this. I remember a time when I was about to do something really hard--just uncomfortable and painful--and I was walking around the Testing Center to blow off steam before I went in to face this dragon of a task. I was scared and fluttery and in pain...and all of a sudden my eyes were opened to those around me. I recognized that if I felt this way, than others could feel this way as well, and my heart hurt for them and their moments of grief and anxiety. I looked at people then and loved them then in a way that is difficult to attain in the self-absorption of the day to day. My suffering helped me to love in a way impossible to generate by sheer power of will.

My question then, is what happens when we are in the opposite state? Can this generosity of being be generated when we are having success, in love, or feeling lucky? In the same monologue, Lewis says "Self-sufficiency is the enemy of salvation. If you are self-sufficient, you have no need of God." Whew...he's right though. 'Self-sufficiency' or Independence from God could be the real quest of the American Dream; to be so comfortable and secure that you don't need God's sustaining power in your life.

I think this can threaten when we come to love. Being in love can make one generous and giving, in an effort to bring others into the same state of happiness you are currently experiencing...but it can also mean a good amount of self-absorption and perceived self-sufficiency. That loneliness you've been staving off for years, that cavernous space of need finally seems like it might go away in the light of your newfound love. God needn't fill you as much because you think you have someone else to do it now...and how willing you are to shift the responsibility for your safety into the hands of someone you can touch and see! I don't really have a response to this, except that Romantic love, while immediately intoxicating, gives mainly the illusion of lasting (and potentially Godless) emotional security. Things may be good, but will not always be perfect. There will be weaknesses, misunderstandings and joint issues that only a reliance on God can fulfill.

In closing, I guess I can say that God loves us whether we are suffering or feeling self-sufficient. While we all desire the security that comes with being happy, lucky and loved, do not forget the privilege of suffering. That opportunity to lean on his arm, and to see people with more love, more desire to genuinely serve and uplift through suffering is invaluable, and one crucial trough on the way to the ultimate peak of living with Him forever.

Take a Rest When you Get to Heaven

In my third year of high school, we had a stake reorganization. Wards going this way and that, best friends ripped unduly from their friend's bossom...It was pretty dramatic stuff. I still remember snickering at the song selection for the meeting. "Thy Will Be Done, Oh Lord", and even more dramatically, "I'll Go Where you Want me to Go". The split ended up alright for my family actually, and we found ourselves in a ward where I found a real home through my last two years of school. However, my father's comments our first testimony Sunday after the great divide have continued with me. He said, "I think Heavenly Father cares about our happiness...but I don't think he really cares about our being comfortable." Lewis mirrors this same sentiment in his early work 'The Problem of Pain'. He says,

"The settled happiness and security which we all desire, God withholds from us by the very nature of the world...The security we crave would teach us to rest our hearts in this world and oppose an obstacle to our return to God."

If we get too safe, too comfortable, then what need have we for God? Going on he says,

"but joy, pleasure, and merriment, He has scattered broadcast. We are never safe, but we have plenty of fun, and some ecstasy."

Though life is often scary, hard and insecure, the swath of worry is often punctuated by joy. Where as security in the world creates distance from God, "a few moments of happy love, a landscape, a symphony...have no such tendency." God gives us happiness, just in brief bursts rather than sustained harmonies. The long term joy is reserved for heaven.

Apologies...tonight is brief. Sleepy! But next time, maybe we'll get a little '4 Loves' mumbo jumbo, which promises to be good...:) Love!

On Christian Marriage

Alright. Apologies Professor Young (and all readership), but this is going to be one of those posts that's required to meet my 2 week quota. Posting twice on the same night? Yes, indeed I am. But I had written the other stuff a while back, so really, it's alright.

In all honesty, Lewis' fiction is not doing as much for me as the apologist stuff. I loved Perelandra...but thus far have not super connected with the Narnia series. SO! I'm going to jump back into Old Faithful territory: Mere Christianity and the chapter on Christian Marriage. (:D)

I love this chapter. Whenever I get distressed about romantic things, how things are imbalanced or not working out, I can read this and feel a little better about what marriage is supposed to look like, and what I'm shooting for. Here's a bit of a lengthy quote:

"The Christian idea of marriage is based on Christ's teaching that a man and wife are to be regarded as a single organism...He was not expressing a sentiment but stating a fact--just as one is stating a fact when one says that a lock and it's key are one mechanism, or that a violin and a bow are one musical instrument. The inventor of the human machine was telling us that its two halves, the male and female, were made to be combined together in pairs, not simply on the sexual level, but totally combined."

Pretty romantic for a guy who had yet to be married, right? :) But my response to this quickly (before I sleep) : I think this is beautiful. What Lewis is describing here is unity; one-ness in being as well as in purpose. A solidarity in goals I think is especially important; the desire for similar things, from where to spend the money to your levels of activity in church. Now certainly, I would guess that this kind of unity is not something you stumble upon. It's something you build. I think the best promise of this type of unity is a degree of shared goals before you start dating, and then a willingness to compromise, to follow the spirit, and eventual love for your spouse that will allow you to admit you're wrong after the fact. I know, highly idealistic...but a dream nontheless. Alright--sleep. :)

Mythic Moments in the Scriptures and Life

I decide what I want to blog about by pinpointing what especial aspect of Lewisnian literature has been most clogging my mind over the past week. This means that I'm often out of sync with the class (we're studying Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe right now), but I think it's for the best. This is my thing after all, and I do what I want. :P

So! The concept that's been most on my mind lately is that of Myth; specifically Lewis' concept of 'Myth Became Fact'. Lewis defines a myth in his essay "On Myth" (clever title) as having 6 specific aspects. A Myth:

1) Is extra-literary. It doesn't matter how it's written; it's the story itself that counts.

2) Doesn't depend on suspense or surprise.

3) Doesn't play on Human Sympathies (Pathos). We don't project ourselves strongly into the characters.

4) Is fantastic--deals with impossibles.

5) Is always grave, never comic.

6) Inspires awe. It feels important.

In my New Testament class we've been studying the parables recently...and after reflecting on this definition of myth, I think that's what they are. The aspect of myth that I like particularly is the first one--that it's extra literary. Have you ever read something where the writing's really good, but the story's not very compelling? Myths (and Parables) are basically the opposite of that. It's the plotline that makes the story compelling, not how the story is told. 

On a second, slightly more lighthearted note, I love Lewis' idea as Myth as Fact, or Myth becoming real. He references this in Perelandra, when Ransom feels both like himself having the adventure, and 'the man' having the adventure. Do you ever feel this way? Like there should be a soundtrack playing in your head as you go forth to do this great thing or have that big talk? In certain circumstances we feel our actions to have more weight then they do in regular life--the day we feel we are going to be proposed to, for example, or the day we go in for that momentous interview. The day we discuss the Gospel with a friend could also be an instance where you feel that it is you acting, but not you alone. The feeling that this story will be one of great importance, one you tell again and again adds gravity to your words and doings, creating a mythic aura around all that you do. Another great label for it is being guided by the Spirit, giving up control and letting your life unfold to stunning new pathways you weren't sure existed. It happens my friends, not always, but when we are ready. And those are some of my favorite moments.

Agency: It's for Reals Yo

Ahhhhh...I've been putting this off guys. A) Because I'm mundo busy and wanted to reserve enough time to do a quality post, and B) because my topic today is un peu painful and scary. Something that I have not brought myself to reconciliation with yet. So! Should be fun for all.

Perelandra. Ever read it? It's great. It is unabashedly theistic (it's Lewis. Were you surprised?) and overtly symbolic. In brief, Perelandra is an Eden parallel, looking at if the fall were to happen on Venus, what the results would be, etc. The serpent character is enacted by the Un-man (the Devil having taken over a human body), the Eve type is a green lady later named Tinidril, and as a new element in the Eden story-line, Ransom (a philologist from earth) acts as the Christ figure whose job is to steer Tinidril away from the Un-man's tempting.

The stakes are high. The fate of a world hangs in the balance...and Ransom has just discovered (page 238) that he is Maleldil's representative, responsible for keeping the Green Lady from following the Un-man's whisperings. He is staggered by this newfound weight on his shoulders, and goes through several levels of rationalization before finally accepting his responsibility.

His first line of reasoning is to deny that he can really be responsible for such a terrifyingly huge thing. He tells himself "As long as he did his best..God would see to the final issue. ...As for the fate of Venus, it could not really rest on his shoulders. It was in God's hands." Oh man. How many times have I quieted my churning mind with this rationale? All the time. "As long as I do my best, God will fix it in the end." This way of thinking (granted) can bring great peace of mind...and hits on a really good attitude most of the time. The issue, however, is that 'leaving it all to God' can breed complacency. Our urgency is gone. We no longer feel responsible for the consequences of our actions (after all, we've tried 'our best'), and thus chalk it up to God's will when we don't find success. It's not really our fault, see? Struggling with a job? Not going on dates? Doing poorly in your classes? Well, you're doing your best, so it's really God's will that you have these trials. Right.

Moving on from this level, the Darkness (the voice of Christ) impresses upon him that he's seeing things incorrectly. He has been placed on Perelandra for a reason. "The fate of a world really depended on how they behaved in the next few hours." What? Oh my goodness. That's a lot of responsibility. Ransom responds against this wildly, asking why on earth God would count on humans to accomplish things with such serious consequences. But no. This is an existence with real risk. "Either something or nothing must depend on individual choices," and in Ransom's case (and ours), the answer is certainly something.

So what does that mean? Frightfully enough (for me, especially), it means that we really can fail. We can fail to live up to God's will, and suffer disastrous consequences. Or we can fail to live up to his will and (as is more often the case) live at a lesser degree of joy and satisfaction than we could've found by obeying him.

In all honesty, the place I struggle with this dichotomy the most is looking out towards marriage. I really really like the 'I'll just do my best, and God will do the rest' philosophy for this one. Because...I don't want to choose! I don't want to accept responsibility for the consequences if I get it wrong! This comes against a scary truth; that on some level I would rather blame God than myself. Whew...:/ That's not the world we are faced with however. We are faced with a world where our choices matter. Where we can miss opportunities and never get them back again. A world where we can fail hard.

Two points of light however (I apologize, I know this is long...) 1) Right after Ransom has the nasty realization that his actions have eternal consequences, he comes to a lovely realization. He doesn't know what to do. "No definite task was before him" (240) All that is required of him is a willingness to do what God asks...and he doesn't know what that is yet. He is required to "do his best--or rather, to go on doing his best, for he really had been doing it all along". Even though our actions can have great consequences, if we don't have a specific injunction from the Lord doing our best with a prayer in our hearts is all we can do. Further (point of light 2), if we mess up, even to the extent of allowing a world to fall (in Ransom's case), Christ will make good of it. Not as much good as could have been found by following the first command, perhaps...but good. All will not be lost.

Both these things are serious comforts to me. Yes--we really are free agents. A great amount depends upon the choices we make every day. But, mistakes are planned and accounted for. And even if we know the task is ours (like in marriage, picking a school, etc.), if we don't have clear directives on how we should behave, doing our best is all we can do until we receive greater light. And with or without greater light, when we fail Christ is there to pick up the pieces and turn them into something beautiful again.

I couldn't help myself. The man made me angry.

Alright. So SINCE we're all about confessions on this blog, here's the first: this post is going to be completely indulgent. Probably not of much help to anyone but me. Still, it is requisite that I post once a week, and this is the bit of Lewis that struck me as most controversial in my weekly reading.

It's from Surprised by Joy, the autobiography of his young life that basically follows his conversion from Atheism to Christianity. Another great read--I recommend it. But! Here was the portion that gave me pause. In relation to his recent acceptance that there was a God, Lewis said

"If Theism had done nothing else for me, I should still be thankful that it cured me of the time-wasting and foolish practice of keeping a diary. (Even for autobiographical purposes a diary is nothing like so useful as I had hoped. You put down each day what you think important; but of course you cannot each day see what will prove to have been important in the long run.) "

*Ahem*...what? WHAT? Lewis!! Alright, so for background, most who know me will know that I have a ridiculous journal keeping habit. Former roommates know that I stay up till late hours of the night, documenting highs and lows, tracking mental victories and failings, and generally professing my awesomeness to my future progeny. But what's this? Lewis not only deploring the process of journaling, but also implying that a belief in God should lead someone from this "time-wasting and foolish" practice? No. I'm being tugged in three very uncomfortable directions here. My love for Lewis, Theism, AND MY PROGENY. What to do?

Well, first to agree. Lewis is right. Journaling? Time-consuming. Also, yes! In day to day writing, you're not going to pick out important themes that are going to characterize your life or even your year...In an attempt at a Lewisian analogy, it's like taking a huge magnifying glass to one strand of a woven bracelet, and not seeing the color of the strand in relations to others, or that the single strand goes into making a useful whole. (Stupid analogy, I know. It's late.) So! Journal as a functional tool? Not necessarily effective. Leaves one sleep deprived and is not necessarily useful in the future writing of a Personal History or some such thing. So why do it?

Welll...! Hmm. To be honest, it's become a bit of a habit, for one. For another thing, it was strongly encouraged by Spencer W. Kimball a while back, so it can't be that bad of an idea...! In more serious terms though, I think my journal has been really useful to me. Here are a couple ways in which this (perhaps over-indulgent and compulsive habit) has helped:

1. Adds value to my day to day life. I think just the act of recording things makes me feel like my daily life has meaning.

2. Makes me accountable for things, both in the present (writing it down) and in the future (progeny!!). I've certainly been tempted to hide things from my journal audience, or even not fess things up to myself. But just recognizing that I don't want to write something makes me realize it's something I probably should deal with.

3. Makes me better friends with myself. I'm writing with myself about myself...and sort of to myself. Makes me more comfortable in my own skin.

4. Helps engender a commitment to the future. Each entry is some sort of investment. Not only in me, but in that dear progeny I'm talking so much about. I think my journals are going to be a really effective way for future relatives to get to know me, even when I'm not around. And hey! Maybe they'll even be entertaining and informative.

5. Is fun to go back and read. Seriously--I get sucked into my former headspace when I read my journals back a ways. Interesting and fun...also dangerous if my head wasn't in a great place when I was writing though.

6. Makes me want to use my time more wisely. This goes back to the accountability thing. If I'm going to write about life, I want to have something to write about. This can occasionally be dangerous when I add unnecessary stress and drama to my life to make things more interesting...but it also encourages me to use my time fully, which leads to fun.

7. I'm a super quick 'response' writer. I can do the free flow of brain writing thing really easily, having practiced for a good 40 minutes or so every night.

And there's a picture of them. Isn't that nice. Now, who knows if the benefits outweigh the costs (time), but I feel like journaling has done a lot for me in forming my person. I likely will not always do it at such an intensity as I do at present...but for now, I think I'll keep it up...if only for the progeny. :P Sorry Lewis.

Faith, the Rational Staving Off the Emotional

Man, if anyone reading this blog has yet to read Mere Christianity, I would highly advise you to get to it. In all your spare time, right? :) Even so, it's an exceptional book, one that I keep coming back and back to...and the chapters on Christian Behavior is my absolute favorite. So now to dive into said Christian behavior.

Faith. What is it? Well, we've got our classic LDS definition (thank you Moroni), that faith is things that are hoped for and not seen, but are true. In short, this definition sees faith as closely linked to hope; an enduring belief in something true but intangible. In chapter 11 of Mere Christianity, Lewis expands on this definition. He says that faith is "the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted, in spite of your changing moods" (140). He states that though you can have confidence in the acceptance of God and Christianity (your testimony, in Mormon terms), this confidence can be disrupted by an emotional "blitz on belief". One example of this phenomenon is his knowing perfectly well that anesthetics don't smother him, but yet feeling an overwhelming panic as the mask is going over his mouth. In these instances it doesn't matter how much rational knowledge you have on a subject. You're doubtful of the truths you've learned, and it's difficult to be dissuaded.

I've had these irrational sorts of blitzes on my faith. Times when I step outside of my believing perspective and ask, What if? Times when I see things more cynically. Lewis sympathizes, saying "I do have moods in which the whole thing looks very improbable: but when I was an atheist I had moods in which Christianity looked terribly probable" (140). These sorts of ups and downs are what characterize his Law of Undulation, discussed in Screwtape Letters. We have peaks and valleys in our faith...but like Lewis says, undulation is the closest thing to constancy we, as beings residing in time, can experience. Don't feel guilt for the sudden moments of profound doubt; as long as you view them in perspective of your faith (which hopefully represents a great swath of experience and thought), these doubts will find little toehold in you.

In these moments of emotional upheaval, of sudden fear that what I've built my life around is not as solid as I previously believed, there are some things I always come back to. First is the examples of those around me. I think about what I love. I think about what makes me happy. I think about who I want to be like. I want to be like those who love others, who give generously, who find happiness in serving and encouraging the people around them. Where do I most often find the people doing this? Though goodness exists in many many places, the kind of goodness I want I find in the church. I at least feel that according to the pattern of example I've seen and with the knowledge I have, that I could not be a better person without the church in my life. The second thing I come back to is prayer. I'm not all that imaginative a person. My days of imaginative friends are far behind me. And still, I feel that when I pray, I'm being heard. My life is better as a result of prayer. Sometimes I even feel the strength of another person's prayers for me. I've felt peace, I've felt directives, I've felt stillness of mind as a result of prayer, and I don't believe that these experiences are personally constructed.

Now, some may feel that they have more than an emotional spritz, a crazy doubt or chance thought that momentarily derails them from truth. Some may feel their doubts and questions more enduring, less attributable to emotion, more difficult to release. I've experienced this too, though in what proportion to your concerns I don't know. Lewis' advice on this state of being is priceless. He insists that regardless our current state of faith, if we want it to improve it or remain on a reasonable level, "we have to be continually reminded of what we believe". He says without holding before our minds reminders of what we believe, our belief will die. Our general authorities have gone so far as to say that it is not possible to reason yourself out of the church. Lewis agrees, asking "I wonder how many of [those who have lost their faith] would turn out to have been reasoned out of it by honest argument? Do not most people simply drift away?" There is a lot of literature on this, but if such a dilemma is yours, I would encourage you to not cease in your church attendance. To continue to dig into the scriptures. To try to do good things for others. If these activities still leave you dead to faith and testimony, I would be much surprised.

Bronwen's going to actually RESPOND some day, not just theorize...[Lewis and the Nature of God]

So now. As a blessing to everyone, I've chosen to shower before blogging this time around. So no complaints of filthiness from me! Though I do have a pressing obligation to make some cookies as soon as this is through...so no promises to be completely focused. :)

On to the topic. One would expect that reading Lewis is near tantamount to scripture; that with every flip of the page you're hit with a new revelation, that in every paragraph lies some gem that encourages you to lead a better life. For a lot of Lewis, this is true. However, his ideas on the nature of God continue to be pretty off-putting to me, and I wanted to examine why.

To put it in context, Lewis theorizes on the nature of God in response to a false idea of God that he finds in Liberal Theology. Questing for an "enlightened religion," these theologians take God's defining characteristics to be that he is "infinite, immaterial and immutable" (Miracles, 143). They conjecture from these that this must be all God is, removing from him all human attributes and leaving him a rather immaterial life force reminiscent of Pantheistic tradition.

Lewis is right that this view is incorrect, that it leads to the confused worship of a "non-entity". However, his replacement, to me at least, is similarly off-putting. For one, Lewis sticks to the trinity in his depiction of God, saying that "in God's dimension...you find a being who is three Persons while remaining one Being, just as a cube is six squares while remaining one cube" (Mere Christianity 162). To me this basically implies that God is one being with three faces, and how those Persons interact with each other and man will be unknowable to us until we reach Heaven. This--the reliance on things that are unknowable--is a good and functional view. There are certainly things we don't know about God. However, the concept of the trinity breaks down to me in scenarios like the Virgin Birth, and like Christ's baptism. Lewis' reliance on the Trinity is alienating to me, and although his description of God as 'super-personal' (above personality as we understand it), I prefer a relatable Father-God, who promises that I can become like him through the grace of his son.

Further, Lewis does not begin with a belief that we are the children of God. In Mere Christianity he asserts that Christ was literally begotten of God, while he only "makes" us (160). In this way we are like tin soldiers, resistant to becoming the real men in emulation of Christ. This is true enough; we do go through a natural man/spiritual man process that is painful and often unsuccessful  The key difference between Lewis' philosophy and Mormon Doctrine is in LDS belief we at all times remain sons and daughters of God, from before our transformation until afterwards, and with Lewis, we start as merely creations. The love of God for us as humans is much more tangible to me when I can relate to him as a Father, not a creator.

Commiserating over theorist's ability to really know the nature of God, Lewis writes that we "have no resources from which to supply the blindingly real...attributes of Deity" (Miracles 144). He tries to do so, however, in cementing the idea of the Trinity as well as defining God as our Creator rather than our Father. However, the beauty is that in modern times we do have resources through which we can understand the true nature of God--the prophets, modern scripture, and personal revelation. Through these we understand that Heavenly Father, Christ and the Holy Ghost, though united in purpose, are separate beings. We understand ourselves as having a direct and personal relationship with all three members of the Godhead, as they act as the Fathers and guides of our mortal lives. And most importantly, we understand our capacity to become like them--in their separate and glorified state-- through our growth and acceptance of the Atonement. I love Lewis, but for me, the nature of God is one truth that he missed.

(This was a little boring for me to write. It was probably boring for you to read. Next time, I'm going to bring in stories and not make this so stinkin academic. My apologies. Off to cookie making!)

Reflections on Miracles

Alright, full confession time. I would much rather be showering than blogging right now. Stupid greasy hair...BUT! The blog is due soon, and it must be done. :) And as it's late and I'm slightly temperamental, this is not going to be nicely organized! It's going to be my reflections of two passages from Lewis' Miracles, the book we're reading this week. No promises of common threads, anywhere.

Passage One! Throughout this book (or at least the beginning of it), Lewis is pitting Naturalism (the belief that that which is in the world/universe is all there is) against Supernaturalism (the belief that things exist that are apart from the world as we perceive it). As is characteristic of Lewis' style, in chapter one of Miracles Lewis anticipates the arguments made against Supernaturalism. One such argument is that Supernaturalism, being a more monarchical structure than Naturalism (one supreme being, subjects, that sort of thing)  is really just a holdover from a monarchical age. He counters that, however, the same thing can be said about Naturalism in regards to democracy, that it is a more democratic idea (all being roughly equal in Naturalism), and has been more widely accepted in democratic societies. However, this is the part I really like:

In regards to the societal sources of Supernaturalism and Naturalism, "The do indeed remind us that Supernaturalism is the characteristic philosophy of a monarchical age and Naturalism of a democratic, in the sense that Supernaturalism, even if false, would have been believed by the great mass of unthinking people four hundred years ago, just as Naturalism, even if false will be believed by the great mass of unthinking people today" (10).

I thought that this was really cool, and made a lot of sense. Ideologies do find more popularity depending on the social climate of the time. However, as Lewis so brilliantly explains here, the popularity of an idea is not relevant to an idea's actual truthfulness. Naturalists wouldn't want us believing Supernaturalist dogma just because it was popular in the monarchical age, and similarly, we shouldn't be expected or to believe Naturalism just because it's the ideology currently in vogue. Real understanding of truth must not come from what those around us expect us to believe, or even what modern thinkers are pushing as truth. A better understanding comes in Lewis' challenge to not be swayed by your environment, but partake from all sources and reason it out for yourself.

Now quickly, my second quote. In chapter 5, Lewis discusses what sacrifices you have to make if you truly believe the Naturalist's philosophy that man's mind is a random byproduct of natural process. Lewis insists that you cannot sacrifice Rationalism, for then goes the entire basis of your argument. He does say, however that "you (the Naturalist) can if you wish regard all human ideals as illusions and all human loves as biological by-products"(54). He then continues, "Whether you can do so without extreme unplausibility--without accepting a picture of things which no one really believes--is another matter."

The need for a shower is getting more and more desperate, so with this one I'll be brief. I've contemplated a view where life has no purpose, where dreams and people mean nothing, and all will one day go to dust, where ideals are simply past-times until we expire, where we die and forget that we ever wanted to be remembered for the progresses we made on earth. I've thought about it, I've considered it even, but have found that any flirtation with accepting it deadens me. It removes all passions, all charitable thoughts, all loves, robs me of hope and saps my motivation. Considering biological process to be the base of all around me tempts me towards a smartly cynical two-dimensional view of the world that brings me no joy or reason to continue. Why work at all if nothing matters? Why help when the helpee is just going to dissipate into ash someday anyway? Lewis is right that hardly anyone really takes this view very seriously, at least as far as carrying it out in their day to day life. However, for those who do (and there are some), I salute your search for meaning in what to me was a meaningless pursuit.

Lewis' Zion Society

Ooo...I am liking Mere Christianity far more than I thought I would. Especially the 3rd book, Christian Behavior. LOVE it. It's like the perfect intersect of Religion, Psychology and Logic that becomes just fuel to my fire. Yum! But to focus on a part that I've particularly enjoyed and keep coming back to...

*Confession*...before I begin. I do particularly enjoy when people I respect (CS Lewis, Book of Mormon Prophets, etc.) back up certain elements of my political views. CS Lewis' view in Chapter 3 of Book Three (Social Morality) was particularly delicious to me. In it he lays out a few aspects of a truly Christian Society (or Zion Society, as we would call it).

Firstly, everyone is to work. As Lewis says "if a man does not work, he does not eat" (84). This is an ideal that we are pushing for in the church, providing Welfare Resources when need is present, but avoiding a society of "passengers or parasites" by encouraging people to find meaningful employment (84).

Further, there are to be "no manufacture of silly luxuries"; everyone is to do that which is meaningful, productive, and needed in the community. Along with the dismantling of our indulgent society, "there is to be no 'swank'...no putting on airs" (84). People are to be equal to each other, to be cooperative and looking out for another's welfare as well as their own. In this way, Lewis says that "a Christian society would be what we now call Leftist" (84).

However...views currently embraced by the Right Wing make their debut as well! In this Zion society, obedience is expected and insisted upon. There is organization, and willing compliance to righteous authority.

Lewis summarizes his view of Zion by saying that it's "economic life [would be] very socialistic and, in that sense, 'advanced', but that its family life and its code of manners [would be] rather old fashioned" (84). His view of old fashioned, I would take it, would amount to people living in family units, within an authority system that they were obedient to. Much as the main body of the church exists today. ;)

In a final act of Moderate fist-pumping, I would just say that I concur strongly with Lewis' vision of a Christian Society. I love the equal distribution of goods, the unselfish 'Law of Consecration' type atmosphere that already exists in many of our stakes and will one day exist much more broadly. I wish we could live more in accordance with that today, and sheath off our Capitalist drives for ever-increasing wealth and prestige. Leaning a little more left than right, I am slightly less triumphant at the more traditional living patterns that would be adopted in this Christian Society...but not really. I know that at the end of the day, when all is resolved, that our most exultant state will be in our family units, lead by inspired and careful authorities. When this comes to pass, all will have a place, a job, a means of meaningful employment. Competition will die, and all will contribute as much as they can to community well-being. Families will live in security, and free from attack, under the direction of loving leaders. It may be highly idealistic, and nearly impossible by modern-day prediction, but I hope for that day all the same.

Physical Birth as a Type of Spiritual Birth

I'm in a New Testament class this semester that requires me to read the four Gospels in 2 weeks. Reading that while reading the first books of Mere Christianity has been most instructive. A connection I came across just today was particularly cool, and it is that connection I will relate to you now.

In Chapter 5 of Book Two, Lewis makes the case (both vaguely and respectfully) for physical birth (conception and delivery) sharing patterns with spiritual birth (baptism, belief and communion). He argues that a proof for something being true is that you never would've guessed it, never could've sorted it out in your own head. In relation to physical birth, he says that he would've "never seen any connection between a particular physical pleasure (sex) and the appearance of a new human being in the world" (61). This is an interesting perspective. In a similar pattern of not being able to guess the causes and effects, Lewis says that the process of 'baptism, belief and communion' equal a spiritual birth that can get you into heaven is similarly odd to him. But, he counters, this is reality (as sex is a reality to conceive a child), and we should take it as it is (61).

Christ argues the case of spiritual vs physical birth to Nicodemus in John 3: 3-7. He tells Nicodemus that it is necessary to "be born again" in order to enter the kingdom of God. He then says that "except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God"(vs 5). So, just as certain things need to happen for a baby to come into this world, we must be baptized and receive the Holy Ghost (a difference from CS Lewis' opinion, unless Communion equals the receiving of the Holy Ghost) before we can enter the new realm of life with Heavenly Father. It does seem interesting to me, however, that Lewis points out that these steps (baptism, 'belief and the Communion') are both necessary and in some way arbitrary. Arbitrary in that we don't understand them at least, or see exactly why the physical practicing of ordinances is necessary to our reconciliation with God.

Alright. I'm exhausted, and that was all way too academic. But it's long enough, right? :P To close with a couple of my feelings, I think this idea of spiritual birth, a rebirth into a second life, is fascinating. However, it is crucial (and Lewis acknowledges this as well) that we maintain the quality of our spiritual life so as to not suffer spiritual death and distance ourselves from God. CS Lewis suggests that we do that by continuing to repent and begin over again each time we stumble. I agree, and would add that this process is most crucial in the upkeep of our attitudes, especially those of true humility and charity. These attitudes, most typical of a disciple of Christ, are easy to lose, and require prayer and real desire to maintain. Still, when these qualities are maintained we can reach the highest throes of spiritual life, and truly live as a branch off the One True Vine.

Alright. So this is it. My first post on CS Lewis! And not only that, my first blog post in general. WOO! But, as the audience of these posts will likely consist solely of Professor Young and my Mother, I'm not too worried about casting my thoughts to the intellectual swirl of the blogosphere. So! Here goes.

Through interchanges between Divine Spirit and Ghost, Lewis paints in two instances the importance of keeping our childlike quest for beauty and knowledge. In the first instance, a Spirit converses with a Ghost-artist, recently arisen from Hell. As the ghost looks around at the radient expanse of Heaven, he desires to paint it. The Spirit insists that this is unnecessary, as Heaven is the epoch of beauty, with the need only to be seen, not reproduced and communicated. As the communicate, it becomes clear that this Ghost, instead of painting as a means to access heaven, has converted painting from a means to an end. He is now wrapped up in his role as a painter, unable to see that he started in that profession in the first place because "light itself was [his] first love" (pg 84). In response to the Spirit's accusation that he's lost his sense of priority, the Ghost replies "Oh, that's ages ago...one grows out of that." He's compromised his child-like thirst for light and beauty for reputation and social status.

A similar instance occurs in chapter five, where a different Spirit confronts an intellectual Ghost about his insistence on questioning and intellectualizing everything. This Ghost insists on the value of "inquiry", "honest opinions fearlessly followed", and hopes by coming to heaven that he will find "a wider sphere of usefulness--a scope for the talents that God has given [him]" (pgs 39-40). The Spirit, however, asserts that there is no longer a need for fierce questioning, for liberal theology, for inquiry and doubt. Instead, he promises that his "thirst will be quenched" (40). The ghost, however, rejects this alternative, doesn't seem to even recognize the promise he's refusing, and chooses instead to go back to Hell where he is the head of a Theological Society. This interchange was fascinating to me--the reassurance that our questions, concerns, thoughts--these inquires we have are "made for truth" (41). The promise that one day there will be no doubt, no theories...only certainty. Light, darkness and a perfect judge. The ghost's resistance was also compelling to me--the fact that his inquiry was not really sincere. That he didn't really want answers, just the pompous position of posing the questions.

Both of these examples speak to the loss of innocence we experience as we grow. It takes so much humility to remain as a child when you are the famous author, you are the renown professor, when you are the one who's supposed to have all the answers. But through these examples in The Great Divorce, Lewis encourages us to cast aside poise and position, to do away with what we thought was the end purpose of our lives and admit our innocence and helplessness before him. These ghost-men did not even have the faith or interest to follow the angels a little further into the mountain, to the fount of all joy and sustenance. I just hope that when this decision is placed before me, I will be able to cast off my paltry solutions and yield to the center of complete truth.