C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity, Book III, Christian Behaviour, "Faith [Part II]":
I want to start by saying something that I would like everyone to notice carefully. It is this. If
I want to start by saying something that I would like everyone to notice carefully. It is this. If
this chapter means nothing to you, if it
seems to be trying to answer questions you never
asked, drop it at once. Do
not bother about it at all. There are certain things in Christianity
that
can be understood from the outside, before you have become a Christian. But
there are
a great many things that cannot be understood until after you have
gone a certain distance
along the Christian road. These things are purely
practical, though they do not look as if they
were. They are directions for
dealing with particular cross-roads and obstacles on the
journey and they do
not make sense until a man has reached those places. Whenever you
find any
statement in Christian writings which you can make nothing of, do not worry.
Leave
it alone. There will come a day, perhaps years later, when you
suddenly see what it meant. If
one could understand it now, it would only do
one harm.
Of course all this tells against me as much as anyone else. The thing I
am going to try to
explain in this chapter may be ahead of me. I may be
thinking I have got there when I have
not. I can only ask instructed
Christians to watch very carefully, and tell me when I go wrong;
and others
to take what I say with a grain of salt--as something offered, because it
may be a
help, not because I am certain that I am right.
I am trying to talk about Faith in the second sense, the higher sense.
I said last week that
the question of Faith in this sense arises after a man
has tried his level best to practise the
Christian virtues, and found that
he fails, and seen that even if he could he would only be
giving back to God
what was already God's own. In other words, he discovers his
bankruptcy.
Now, once again, what God cares about is not exactly our actions. What he
cares about is that we should be creatures of a certain kind or quality--the
kind of creatures
He intended us to be--creatures related to Himself in a
certain way. I do not add "and related
to one another in a certain way,"
because that is included: if you are right with Him you will
inevitably be
right with all your fellow-creatures, just as if all the spokes of a wheel
are fitted
rightly into the hub and the rim they are bound to be in the
right positions to one another. And
as long as a man is thinking of God as
an examiner who has set him a sort of paper to do,
or as the opposite party
in a sort of bargain--as long as he is thinking of claims and
counterclaims
between himself and God--he is not yet in the right relation to Him. He is
misunderstanding what he is and what God is. And he cannot get into the
right relation until
he has discovered the fact of our bankruptcy.
When I say "discovered," I mean really discovered: not simply said it
parrot-fashion. Of
course, any child, if given a certain kind of religious
education, will soon learn to say that we
have nothing to offer to God that
is not already His own and that we find ourselves failing to
offer even that
without keeping something back. But I am talking of really discovering this:
really finding out by experience that it is true.
Now we cannot, in that sense, discover our failure to keep God's law
except by trying our
very hardest (and then failing). Unless we really try,
whatever we say there will always be at
the back of our minds the idea that
if we try harder next time we shall succeed in being
completely good. Thus,
in one sense, the road back to God is a road of moral effort, of trying
harder and harder. But in another sense it is not trying that is ever going
to bring us home.
All this trying leads up to the vital moment at which you
turn to God and say, "You must do
this. I can't." Do not, I implore you,
start asking yourselves, "Have I reached that moment?"
Do not sit down and
start watching your own mind to see if it is coming along. That puts a
man
quite on the wrong track. When the most important things in our life happen
we quite
often do not know, at the moment, what is going on. A man does not
always say to himself,
"Hullo! I'm growing up." It is often only when he
looks back that he realises what has
happened and recognises it as what
people call "growing up." You can see it even in simple
matters. A man who
starts anxiously watching to see whether he is going to sleep is very
likely
to remain wide awake. As well, the thing I am talking of now may not happen
to every
one in a sudden flash--as it did to St Paul or Bunyan: it may be so
gradual that no one could
ever point to a particular hour or even a
particular year. And what matters is the nature of the
change in itself, not
how we feel while it is happening. It is the change from being confident
about our own efforts to the state in which we despair of doing anything for
ourselves and
leave it to God.
I know the words "leave it to God" can be misunderstood, but they must
stay for the
moment. The sense in which a Christian leaves it to God is that
he puts all his trust in Christ:
trusts that Christ will somehow share with
him the perfect human obedience which He
carried out from His birth to His
crucifixion: that Christ will make the man more like Himself
and, in a
sense, make good his deficiencies. In Christian language, He will share His
"sonship" with us, will make us, like Himself, "Sons of God"[...] If you
like to put it that way,
Christ offers something for nothing: He even offers
everything for nothing. In a sense, the
whole Christian life consists in
accepting that very remarkable offer. But the difficulty is to
reach the
point of recognising that all we have done and can do is nothing. What we
should
have liked would be for God to count our good points and ignore our
bad ones. Again, in a
sense, you may say that no temptation is ever overcome
until we stop trying to overcome it--
throw up the sponge. But then you could
not "stop trying" in the right way and for the right
reason until you had
tried your very hardest. And, in yet another sense, handing everything
over
to Christ does not, of course, mean that you stop trying. To trust Him
means, of course,
trying to do all that He says. There would be no sense in
saying you trusted a person if you
would not take his advice. Thus if you
have really handed yourself over to Him, it must follow
that you are trying
to obey Him. But trying in a new way, a less worried way. Not doing these
things in order to be saved, but because He has begun to save you already.
Not hoping to
get to Heaven as a reward for your actions, but inevitably
wanting to act in a certain way
because a first faint gleam of Heaven is
already inside you.
Christians have often disputed as to whether what leads the Christian
home is good
actions, or Faith in Christ. I have no right really to speak on
such a difficult question, but it
does seem to me like asking which blade in
a pair of scissors is most necessary. A serious
moral effort is the only
thing that will bring you to the point where you throw up the sponge.
Faith
in Christ is the only thing to save you from despair at that point: and out
of that Faith in
Him good actions must inevitably come. There are two
parodies of the truth which different
sets of Christians have, in the past,
been accused by other Christians of believing: perhaps
they may make the
truth clearer. One set were accused of saying, "Good actions are all that
matters. The best good action is charity. The best kind of charity is giving
money. The best
thing to give money to is the Church. So hand us over £10,000 and we will see you through."
The answer to that nonsense, of
course, would be that good actions done for that motive,
done with the idea
that Heaven can be bought, would not be good actions at all, but only
commercial speculations. The other set were accused of saying, "Faith is all
that matters.
Consequently, if you have faith, it doesn't matter what you
do. Sin away, my lad, and have a
good time and Christ will see that it makes
no difference in the end." The answer to that
nonsense is that, if what you
call your "faith" in Christ does not involve taking the slightest
notice of
what He says, then it is not Faith at all--not faith or trust in Him, but
only intellectual
acceptance of some theory about Him.
The Bible really seems to clinch the matter when it puts the two things
together into one
amazing sentence. The first half is, "Work out your own
salvation with fear and trembling"--
which looks as if everything depended on
us and our good actions: but the second half goes
on, "For it is God who
worketh in you"--which looks as if God did everything and we nothing.
I am
afraid that is the sort of thing we come up against in Christianity. I am
puzzled, but I am
not surprised. You see, we are now trying to understand,
and to separate into water-tight
compartments, what exactly God does and
what man does when God and man are working
together. And, of course, we
begin by thinking it is like two men working together, so that
you could
say, "He did this bit and I did that." But this way of thinking breaks down.
God is
not like that. He is inside you as well as outside: even if we could
understand who did what, I
do not think human language could properly
express it. In the attempt to express it different
Churches say different
things. But you will find that even those who insist most strongly on
the
importance of good actions tell you you need Faith; and even those who
insist most
strongly on Faith tell you to do good actions. At any rate that
is as far as I go.
I think all Christians would agree with me if I said that though
Christianity seems at first to
be all about morality, all about duties and
rules and guilt and virtue, yet it leads you on, out of
all that, into
something beyond. One has a glimpse of a country where they do not talk of
those things, except perhaps as a joke. Every one there is filled full with
what we should call
goodness as a mirror is filled with light But they do
not call it goodness. They do not call it
anything. They are not thinking of
it. They are too busy looking at the source from which it
comes. But this is
near the stage where the road passes over the rim of our world. No one's
eyes can see very far beyond that: lots of people's eyes can see further
than mine.
In Christ,
Teopile/Theophilos Porter
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