The Inklings

C.S. Lewis, born 1898, died with little notoriety on November 22, 1963. Because of the murder of John F. Kennedy on that same day, there would have been much publicity about the death of one of the world’s greatest writers. (The Screwtape Letters, The Chronicles of Narnia and The Space Trilogy). Perhaps the book I know him best for is “The Case For Christianity“. After Lewis graduated from Oxford, he went through a time of agnosticism but because of his friendship with the writer J.R.R. Tolkien, an outstanding Christian, he became one of the world’s greatest biblical apologists, even recognized as a stalwart of the Christian faith by the Catholic Church.

Tolkien, devoted Catholic, professor of Anglo-Saxon studies at Oxford and great admirer of J.K. Chesterton, perhaps the most influential catholic, and most quoted catholic writer, brought Lewis back from his despondency as a self-imposed agnostic since the age of 15, to his revitalization as a Christian apologist and devout believer at the age of 33.

I became acquainted with Lewis, first through his writings and then correspondence, because of his acquaintance with a local professor. Lewis did not adhere to the rules of conduct required by the catholic church of Ireland. He felt, as does this writer, that Christian joy should be a fount of internal pleasure due to the fact that the Holy Spirit of God lives within the human body. Like Joseph of the Old Testament (Genesis 39), we should have Christian joy regardless of situation. It is a matter of history that Joseph found joyfulness even in prison, even in Potiphar’s house, even in Pharaohs government.

My testament to Lewis was the fact that most of the New Testament was written by a man in prison, even in prison in Rome, in a cistern with little contact with the world and absolutely no conveniences. This Jewish roman citizen, a graduate of the best school in Tarsus, could write a love letter to the church at Philippi and speak of the joy of the Lord. “That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death;” (Philippians 3:10) In every letter I ever wrote Lewis or any other Christian student I use Philippians 3:10. In all his 16 epistles, their was a sense of joy (in the short epistle to the Philippians he used “joy” 17 times, a man in prison still rejoicing over the Philippians whom he had not seen for 15 years), security, confidence. After all, faith is a verb, action, based on belief, sustained by confidence. “Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, Rejoice” (Philippians 4:4)

“ 7. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.  8. Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.” (Philippians 4:7-8)

People do what they do because they believe what they believe. You must believe in the all sufficiency of Christ before you can understand your faith. This is one reason Tolkien could not understand Lewis aligning himself with the Church of England. Which, very much like the Episcopal church in the US, is grasping for the indolence of the world. It is hard for any Christian to comprehend a statement by Katherine Hancock, an American Episcopal Priestess, who has served for 17 years on the national board of the Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice, making the statement in Birmingham, Alabama, that abortion is “a wonderful choice”.

I truly believe joy and happiness came to the life of C.S. Lewis, not just with his conversion to Christianity as has been clearly specified in his books, but his marriage late in life in 1956 to Joy Gresham who died four years later after a battle with cancer. I believe his grief with her passing, led to his death three years later at the age of 65, the world losing one of its great writers and Christianity losing one of its greatest defenders.

One of life’s most difficult choices is to encourage joy to a broken spirit. Only the disabled who have the daily challenge of living in spite of handicap can understand my remarks. You think you understand, but you will never understand. Recordings made by the “Three Blind Boys of Alabama” give a sense of joy, only because of their salvation. The burden of daily living reduces enthusiasm.

Recently, this totally blind writer reached under his kitchen sink for a can of bug spray that I was going to spray around doors and windows since insects from the outside always pick my house for refuge. Before I started spraying, I decided to check the contents and I found someone, in making purchases for me at a store, had put a can of shaving cream under my sink. Now can you imagine the sight of this old blind man trying to clean up all that shaving cream.

I thought, erroneously, when I came back from the war, that God would “cut me some slack” in my daily living. NOT SO, I have just as many aggravations, make many more mistakes, than the rest of you. I have never understood how a mother, with the challenges of child training, can rear children without God’s help. I have never understood, how a person with a disability of any type, blindness, deafness, cripple, can survive without God’s help. You learn to pray and get better results then you get from pills, you learn to pray, and get better results than you do from the psychologist. Pray, and you have the assurance of the power of the universe who will never leave you, nor forsake you.

The father of Roxana Saberi ( recently imprisoned in Iran), said his daughter would starve herself to death if she was not released. History has been punctuated by ordinary people who found extraordinary faith, in a time of crises. Before the conflict with the enemy’s of Christianity is resolved (and it probably never will be), many of us will be imprisoned and many of us will need the faith not only to die with but to live by.

Nor cause me from my bosom tear
The very friend I sought.
-Robert Burns