Category: Christian Life

Divine Christmas Gifts

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, Christian Life, Christianity, Family, Grandparenting, The Ancient Church16 Comments

I hope everyone was pleased with the gifts they may have received during their Christmas celebrations. As grandparents, my wife and I delighted in the presence of our children and grandchildren as we celebrated together Jesus’ Nativity.

Which raises the subject of the proverbial “reason for the season.” My hope is that Mere Inkling’s friends will know the deep and lasting joy of receiving our Creator’s most precious gift.

In 1958, C.S. Lewis wrote to an American correspondent about one obstacle to receiving God’s gifts. He cited an observation by Saint Augustine that if we are too busy grasping less important things, we can miss out on what is truly priceless.

St. Augustine says “God gives where He finds empty hands.” A man whose hands are full of parcels can’t receive a gift.

Augustine was an ancient African bishop. One of his Christmas sermons has survived and remains quite inspiring sixteen centuries after it was first preached. I encourage you to bask in the glow of the following excerpt.

So then, let us celebrate the birthday of the Lord with all due festive gatherings. Let men rejoice, let women rejoice. Christ has been born, a man; he has been born of a woman; and each sex has been honored.

Now therefore, let everyone, having been condemned in the first man [Adam], pass over to the second. It was a woman who sold us death; a woman who bore us life. The likeness of the flesh of sin [Romans 8] has been born, so that the flesh of sin might be cleansed and purified.

And thus it is not the flesh that is to be faulted, but the fault that must die in order that the nature may live; because One has been born without fault, in whom the other who was at fault may be reborn.

Rejoice, you just; it is the birthday of the Justifier. Rejoice, you who are weak and sick; it is the birthday of the Savior, the Healer. Rejoice, captives; it is the birthday of the Redeemer.

Rejoice, slaves; it is the birthday of the one who makes you lords. Rejoice, free people; it is the birthday of the one who makes you free. Rejoice, all Christians; it is the birthday of Christ.

Rejoice, one and all. God’s undeserved gift to each of us, for all those willing to receive it, is forgiveness and eternal life. 

In his book The Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis elaborates on the Augustinian analogy shared above.

Everyone has noticed how hard it is to turn our thoughts to God when everything is going well with us. We “have all we want” is a terrible saying when “all” does not include God. We find God an interruption.

As St Augustine says somewhere, “God wants to give us something, but cannot, because our hands are full – there’s nowhere for Him to put it.” Or as a friend of mine said, “We regard God as an airman regards his parachute; it’s there for emergencies but he hopes he’ll never have to use it.”

Now God, who has made us, knows what we are and that our happiness lies in Him. Yet we will not seek it in Him as long as He leaves us any other resort where it can even plausibly be looked for. While what we call “our own life” remains agreeable we will not surrender it to Him.

What then can God do in our interests but make “our own life” less agreeable to us, and take away the plausible sources of false happiness? It is just here, where God’s providence seems at first to be most cruel, that the Divine humility, the stooping down of the Highest, most deserves praise.

Remember friends, our celebration of the Messiah’s entrance into our world is not limited to a single day, or even a brief season. Every single day we can rejoice at the miracle of the Incarnation and the fact that God loved us enough to send his Son to redeem us.

C.S. Lewis & Mining Minds

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, Christian Life, Modern Life, Nature13 Comments

When we are young, it is common for us to think of “brain” and “mind” as synonyms. Today, (potentially nefarious) scientific advances are probing the brain, to gain commercially beneficial access to the mind.

What would C.S. Lewis think? Perhaps his 1955 comment about commercialism provides a hint?

I wish we didn’t live in a world where buying and selling things (especially selling) seems to have become almost more important than either producing or using them.

Seventy years later it is strange to apply this economic principle to the ineffable nature of the mind. And it’s even more odd to apply Lewis’ observation to this situation. He would definitely consider using one’s brain more important than marketing it.

As a young man, C.S. Lewis used the word “brain” when referring to dredging up pleasant memories of past holidays. Even in 1921 he realized that memories are capable of adding a resplendent glow to past experiences.

I still feel that the real value of such a holiday is still to come, in the images and ideas which we have put down to mature in the cellarage of our brains, thence to come up with a continually improving bouquet.

Already the hills are getting higher, the grass greener, and the sea bluer than they really were; and thanks to the deceptive working of happy memory our poorest stopping places will become haunts of impossible pleasure and Epicurean repast.

It is certainly no accident one neurologist calls the relationship between brain and mind “the enchanted loom.”

So, why is it that we began with a question about the commercial incentive to secure the “brain data” of willing – and unsuspecting – people? 

Well, it turns out that since “tech companies [already] collect brain data that could be used to infer our thoughts,” it is “vital we get legal protections right” (MIT Technology Review).

Two months ago, California amended their Consumer Privacy statute to include neural data. It quite appropriately immediately follows the protection of “a consumer’s genetic data.) According to the MIT report:

The law prevents companies from selling or sharing a person’s data and requires them to make efforts to deidentify the data. It also gives consumers the right to know what information is collected and the right to delete it.

Which is crucial because:

Brain data is precious. It’s not the same as thought, but it can be used to work out how we’re thinking and feeling, and reveal our innermost preferences and desires (emphasis in original).

Brain Versus Mind

Before proceeding, let’s clarify the difference between the brain and the mind. The brain is a physical organ which controls our autonomous (typically unconscious) bodily functions such as our heart rate and digestion. It also controls our movements and, to a degree, our emotions. 

The mind, on the other hand, is not physical. It cannot be seen or touched, due to its intangible nature. It can, however, be examined and manipulated, which is another subject I have addressed elsewhere.

The mind is involved with thinking and deciding actions. When they are physical actions, such as whether to indulge in a second helping of dessert, the physical actions involved in that indulgence are relayed by the brain to the appropriate muscles required to perform the act.

The mind is commonly equated with our consciousness. As such, it exists in that realm where we can make moral evaluations and arrive at good decisions, even when they may be against our own self-interest.

Here is a simple illustration of the difference. The brain enables a body (person) to rise and possess the balance to walk along a winding path. The mind allows the person to determine which path is the noble or life-affirming option among the innumerable paths before us.

The brain can only assess a path in the physical sense, through vision, balance, etc. The mind comprehends that “path” means far more than physical orientation.

In C.S. Lewis’ address “Transposition,” he discusses his concept of how simpler concepts and knowledge are sometimes forced to attempt to convey greater knowledge. This can only be accomplished imperfectly. Britain’s monthly The Critic offers an excellent discussion of how transposition illuminates Lewis’ “philosophy of the mind.”

A transposition occurs, he argues, when a richer set of conceptual categories must necessarily be represented by a poorer set of conceptual categories.

In his essay “Is Theology Poetry?” Lewis describes how the mind transcends the physical limitations of the brain itself.

If minds are wholly dependent on brains, and brains on bio-chemistry, and bio-chemistry (in the long run) on the meaningless flux of the atoms, I cannot understand how the thought of those minds should have any more significance than the sound of the wind in the trees.

I might summarize this by declaring “we are more than our brains.” Atheists, sadly, will disagree. They acknowledge our accomplishments may leave behind some ephemeral residue, but once that brain perishes due to the lack of oxygen, everything that is/was us, evaporates, never to exist again. 

As the leader of the Church in Jerusalem wrote, without Christ and the promise of the resurrection, what hope exists? 

What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. (James 4).

And this returns us to the question of precisely what these mind scientists are after. Knowing more about the brain is valuable, so that we might prevent and treat the diseases which assail it. 

But far more valuable, I suspect, is a window into the mind. So we might discover keys to how we exercise the miracle of thought.

Knowing fallen humanity’s propensity to abuse science and technology, forgive me if I remain a bit leery of experiments such as this. And, for those who may be tempted to get involved with developing technologies and allow their brains/minds to be probed for a pittance, I encourage you to ponder the ramifications a little longer.

C.S. Lewis Bonus Material

The quotation above from “Is Theology Poetry?” may have whetted your curiosity about the broader context of the sentence. For those who are interested, read on. [Personal note: I absolutely love his phrase “mythical cosmology derived from science…”]

When I accept Theology I may find difficulties, at this point or that, in harmonising it with some particular truths which are imbedded in the mythical cosmology derived from science. But I can get in, or allow for, science as a whole.

Granted that Reason is prior to matter and that the light of that primal Reason illuminates finite minds. I can understand how men should come, by observation and inference, to know a lot about the universe they live in. 

If, on the other hand, I swallow the scientific cosmology as a whole, then not only can I not fit in Christianity, but I cannot even fit in science.

If minds are wholly dependent on brains, and brains on bio-chemistry, and bio-chemistry (in the long run) on the meaningless flux of the atoms, I cannot understand how the thought of those minds should have any more significance than the sound of the wind in the trees.

And this is to me the final test. This is how I distinguish dreaming and waking. When I am awake I can, in some degree, account for and study my dream. The dragon that pursued me last night can be fitted into my waking world.

I know that there are such things as dreams: I know that I had eaten an indigestible dinner: I know that a man of my reading might be expected to dream of dragons.

But while in the nightmare I could not have fitted in my waking experience. The waking world is judged more real because it can thus contain the dreaming world: the dreaming world is judged less real because it cannot contain the waking one.

For the same reason I am certain that in passing from the scientific point of view to the theological, I have passed from dream to waking. Christian theology can fit in science, art, morality, and the sub-Christian religious. The scientific point of view cannot fit in any of these things, not even science itself (“Is Theology Poetry?”).

Those who wish to read more about C.S. Lewis’ thoughts on Transposition and the mind are invited to read the following excerpt, in its fuller context.

. . . Transposition occurs whenever the higher reproduces itself in the lower. Thus, to digress for a moment, it seems to me very likely that the real relation between mind and body is one of Transposition.

We are certain that, in this life at any rate, thought is intimately connected with the brain. The theory that thought therefore is merely a movement in the brain is, in my opinion, nonsense; for if so, that theory itself would be merely a movement, an event among atoms, which may have speed and direction but of which it would be meaningless to use the words “true” or “false.”

. . . We now see that if the spiritual is richer than the natural (as no one who believes in its existence would deny) then this is exactly what we should expect. And the sceptic’s conclusion that the so-called spiritual is really derived from the natural, that it is a mirage or projection or imaginary extension of the natural, is also exactly what we should expect; for, as we have seen, this is the mistake which an observer who knew only the lower medium would be bound to make in every case of Transposition.

The brutal man never can by analysis find anything but lust in love; the Flatlander never can find anything but flat shapes in a picture; physiology never can find anything in thought except twitchings of the grey matter.

It is no good browbeating the critic who approaches a Transposition from below. On the evidence available to him his conclusion is the only one possible. . . .

I have tried to stress throughout the inevitableness of the error made about every transposition by one who approaches it from the lower medium only. The strength of such a critic lies in the words “merely” or “nothing but.” He sees all the facts but not the meaning.

Quite truly, therefore, he claims to have seen all the facts. There is nothing else there; except the meaning. He is therefore, as regards the matter in hand, in the position of an animal.

You will have noticed that most dogs cannot understand pointing. You point to a bit of food on the floor: the dog, instead of looking at the floor, sniffs at your finger. A finger is a finger to him, and that is all. His world is all fact and no meaning. And in a period when factual realism is dominant we shall find people deliberately inducing upon themselves this doglike mind (“Transposition”).

C.S. Lewis & Gluttony

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, Christian Life, History, Military Musings, Modern Life, Theological Matters13 Comments

Gluttony. If you were guilty of committing this sin, would you admit it? How, in fact, can we determine whether we (much less someone else) is a glutton? 

And, even if we do fit the description of a glutton, is it all that bad? I mean, it’s not like it is nearly as bad as any of the other so-called “seven deadly sins,” right?

Perhaps C.S. Lewis can offer some illumination on this subject? Our investigation could lead us to a curious, yet edifying, discovery. Just as it enlightened the author of “Ok Google, Who’s Fatter, Me or C.S. Lewis?”

Like many of us, in his prime C.S. Lewis did not consider himself beset with the problem of gluttony. Historically, people have been more physically active when they are young – at least that was true before “addiction” to screens, keyboards and game controls became endemic.

Even a quarter century ago this trend was being seriously studied, as in “Computer Use and Physical Inactivity in Young Adults: Public Health Perils and Potentials of New Information Technologies,” which appeared in the Annals of Behavioral Medicine.

As the capacities of the new information technologies for delivering targeted, tailored health behavior change programs are developed, the issues for physical activity promotion will become particularly salient.

The emerging paradox is that this new behavior setting for physical activity program delivery is also a setting that strongly promotes long periods of sedentariness.

C.S. Lewis, obviously, lived prior to the ravages of this plague. Yet, he was not immune to the temptations of the Seven Eight Deadly Sins, as identified by the Desert Father Evagrius Ponticus.

As already mentioned, C.S. Lewis did not consider himself particularly vulnerable to gluttony. This is illustrated by a witty (and fascinating) postscript to a letter written to his lifelong friend Arthur Greeves in 1930.

P.S. When I said that your besetting sin was Indolence and mine Pride I was thinking of the old classification of the seven deadly sins: They are Gula (Gluttony), Luxuria (Unchastity), Accidia (Indolence), Ira (Anger), Superbia (Pride), Invidia (Envy), Avaricia (Avarice).

Accidia, which is sometimes called Tristicia (despondence) is the kind of indolence which comes from indifference to the good – the mood in which though it tries to play on us we have no string to respond.

Pride, on the other hand, is the mother of all sins, and the original sin of Lucifer – so you are rather better off than I am. You at your worst are an instrument unstrung: I am an instrument strung but preferring to play itself because it thinks it knows the tune better than the Musician.

GULA – J.A.G.
LUXURIA – J.A.G., C.S.L.
ACCIDIA – J.A.G.
IRA – C.S.L.
SUPERBIA – C.S.L.
INVIDIA – C.S.L.
AVARICIA – (neither, I hope)

Two decades later, C.S. Lewis would make a related observation in a letter to his friend Don Giovanni Calabria. Apologizing for the delay of his correspondence, Lewis wrote:

Nothing else was responsible for it except the perpetual labour of writing and (lest I should seem to exonerate myself too much) a certain Accidia [sloth], an evil disease and, I believe, of the Seven Deadly Sins that one which in me is the strongest – though few believe this of me.

Gluttony is Not Synonymous with Being Overweight

I meet few people who do not wish that they weighed a few pounds less than they do. That would include the elder C.S. Lewis. Listen to his self-description in a letter to a young admirer in 1954.

Self-effacing, as always, he said he was nothing special to behold: “I’m tall, fat, rather bald, red-faced, double-chinned, black-haired, have a deep voice, and wear glasses for reading . . .” (I hope this is not the only dimension of Lewis that I come to resemble more as the years pass by.)

The United Kingdom and Ireland have an historically odd manner of assessing a person’s weight. I suspect there is a bit of intentional obfuscation involved when they use the archaic measurement of “stone” rather than pounds or kilograms. 

As Britannica says, “the stone is still commonly used in Britain to designate the weights of people and large animals.” Ironically, babies are not weighed this way, presumably because few of them weigh a full stone – fourteen pounds – at birth.

In the military it was important to remain below your maximum allowable weight. This becomes a problem for a fair number of folks (a dilemma with which I’m personally familiar).

Due to the aforementioned problem with sedentary activities, meeting these height and weight guidelines has become a serious issue for many young recruits.

Still, gluttony is not synonymous with weighing more than is healthy for us. Not so, according to a great column at Intellectual Takeout.

It’s typical to associate gluttony with overconsumption, or, an excess of food or drink. But according to C.S. Lewis, that’s only one form the vice takes. The broader definition of gluttony is any inordinate desire related to food or drink. That includes overconsumption, but it also includes overselectivity regarding the type or quality of food and drink.

Derek Rishmawy discusses this Lewisian distinction as well. 

I have to admit that I struggle with gluttony. Yet those who know me probably wouldn’t suspect it. Indeed, I’m tempted to deny it myself because I don’t tend to have a weight issue . . . All the same, this is a sin I’m beginning to realize I need to be increasingly watchful against.

Of course, that confession only makes sense when you understand that there’s more than one way of being a glutton. I’ll let C.S. Lewis explain what I mean.

He cites Screwtape’s letter to his demonic protégé reveling in one of the seldom noticed “victories” of humanity’s Enemy.

One of the great achievements of the last hundred years has been to deaden the human conscience on that subject, so that by now you will hardly find a sermon preached or a conscience troubled about it in the whole length and breadth of Europe.

This has largely been effected by concentrating all our efforts on gluttony of Delicacy, not gluttony of Excess. Your patient’s mother . . . She would be astonished . . . to learn that her whole life is enslaved to this kind of sensuality, which is quite concealed from her by the fact that the quantities involved are small.

But what do quantities matter, provided we can use a human belly and palate to produce querulousness, impatience, uncharitableness, and self-concern? (The Screwtape Letters)

Now, there is something for us to examine in our own lives.

As for those troubled by their physical weight (be it higher or lower than they would like), I discovered an entertaining site where you can find out how much you would weigh on any of the other planets in our solar system.

Exploratorium lifted my spirits by informing me that on Mars I would weigh a mere 96.1 pounds! And best of all, that’s less than seven stone!

The illustration above is based on a detail from The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things painted c. 1500 by Hieronymus Bosch.

Fiction or Nonfiction: Which is Best?

On By robstroudIn Advice to Writers, C.S. Lewis, C.S. Lewis & the Inklings, Christian Life, J.R.R. Tolkien, Words, Writing12 Comments

Which is better for a person to write, fiction or nonfiction? That, of course, is an absurd question on its face. Every one recognizes nonfiction is best. (Just joking.)

Few of us are talented in the manner of C.S. Lewis — who excelled in both genres. Typically we have a knack for one or the other.

Which is best, becomes a question with a quite personal answer. And that response is determined by a number of interrelated elements. In which form are we more adept? Which do we prefer to read? For which are there greater avenues to experience publication? Through which do we receive more reward, extrinsic or intrinsic? 

Christian writers consider another, hopefully overriding, factor. What type of writing does the Lord desire us to pursue? And, it should be noted that just like the daily Christian walk, this is a dynamic matter. It can change at any given moment, depending upon how the Holy Spirit leads. Once again, C.S. Lewis offers an ideal example of this truth. God may lead us to write something factual one afternoon, imaginative the next, and perhaps poetry on the succeeding morning. 

What about the Prestige Factor?

There is a subtle prejudice among writers, I fear. While it’s natural to think that the genre most challenging to one may require additional skill or discipline, it seems to me most writers tacitly accept the notion that fiction requires more talent. 

While I personally disagree with that assessment, I understand it. After all, “facts” are readily available, and don’t rely on one’s imagination to devise. Still, good nonfiction is not inherently simpler to produce than quality fiction. (I mean, AI is proving every day that mediocrity can be reached in either genre in mere seconds.) 

As an example of this subtle prejudice, see this (quite helpful) article by promising young historical fictionist Cheyenne van Langevelde.

In an insightful article entitled “Genre ~ What Christian Writers Should be Aware of,” she introduces the subject with the following observation: 

As someone who hasn’t written nonfiction, I will not be discussing that branch of literature — though I’m sure it’s obvious how one could glorify God in their nonfiction writing. What I am going to talk about is the more challenging of the two branches: fiction.

I graduated from the University of Washington with an Editorial Journalism degree. While some argue Communication degrees are “worthless,” they may “set you up for life.” (That has certainly been my experience.)

Still, journalism doesn’t have the panache of “creative writing.” This, I suspect, is one reason that Master of Fine Arts (MFA) degrees exploded on the scene several decades ago.

When I open each issue of Poets & Writers, I’m overwhelmed by the number of ads for MFA programs, all over the globe. However, the October issue features a melancholy article titled “More MFA Programs Closing.” This is “despite all the value and prestige they bring to the university . . .”

The article cites “monetary pressures on universities and waning interest in the humanities” as major problems. Obvious to any non-MFA observer, the unbridled proliferation of MFA programs themselves might be the primary cause. 

Combine with that the evidence that a younger generation is more concerned about their prospects of making a living, and one might anticipate a further winnowing of such programs. 

For a balanced discussion of the subject, I commend “The MFA Degree: A Bad Decision?” — written by a writer who earned one, and subsequently “taught undergraduate and graduate courses in creative writing.”

I don’t believe MFA programs are inherently evil and have destroyed contemporary American literature. The majority of people teaching and taking creative writing classes are all trying to do good things. Nonetheless, I’ve begun to wonder if the MFA is, in fact, a bad decision.

It’s an interesting discussion, of value especially to those contemplating an MFA path. I leave that choice to the individual — as I leave to them the decision regarding whether to write fiction or nonfiction . . . or poetry, convincing historical fiction, satire, etc.

In order to expand their pool of prospective students, some MFA programs added “creative nonfiction” to their offerings. The focus of this genre is on training participants to consciously implement literary styles and techniques in order to make their factually accurate narratives more engaging.

While there is no doubt consciously taking these tools into consideration can improve the quality of many nonfiction works, it seems a bit exaggerated to label it “creative.” I would simply describe it as “good” or “well written” nonfiction. 

For a description of how creative nonfiction can be implemented in memoirs and essays, you might enjoy an introduction to the subject from Writers.com. You may wish to follow that up with “The Five R’s of Creative Nonfiction.” (Mere Inkling applies at least four of them.)

C.S. Lewis offered an aspiring young writer some wonderful advice in 1959. “Write about what really interests you,” he suggested, “whether it is real things or imaginary things, and nothing else.” He added the parenthetical note that “if you are interested only in writing you will never be a writer, because you will have nothing to write about . . .”

Excellent advice for the young wordsmith. I would add that for the maturing scribe it is often productive (and even fun) to experiment with a variety of genres.

Who knows? Perhaps you will follow the Inkling tradition established by C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, being exceptional in fiction and nonfiction alike. Best of luck to those of you who embark on this journey!

C.S. Lewis & Kindness

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, Christian Life, Modern Life18 Comments

People don’t get along as well as they used to. In the past you could chalk up that sort of observation to the speaker being of the senior variety, and simply complaining about how things are not like the mythical “good old days.”

But today it appears to be a universally acknowledged tragedy. The social fabric previous generations took for granted – national tapestries that were once knit together with such care to promote beauty and harmony – have frayed and torn.

And I don’t perceive this dreadful condition as limited to the United States. Nor do I believe that it’s simply limited to the realm of politics . . . although it is most certainly manifest in that contentious realm. 

Sadly, there is a shortage of truly kind people. Benjamin Franklin hinted at this when he penned, “he that has done you a kindness will be more ready to do you another, than he whom you yourself have obliged.” Essentially, kind people are the ones who act kindly. Rings true, doesn’t it?

It’s not only in politics where kindness is in a shortage. C.S. Lewis described the dilemma in “The Decline of Religion”

The decline of “religion” is no doubt a bad thing for the “World.” By it all the things that made England a fairly happy country are, I suppose, endangered: the comparative purity of her public life, the comparative humanity of her police, and the possibility of some mutual respect and kindness between political opponents.

But I am not clear that it makes conversions to Christianity rarer or more difficult: rather the reverse. It makes the choice more unescapable. When the Round Table is broken every man must follow either Galahad or Mordred: middle things are gone.

The increasing rarity of kindness doesn’t mark its demise. It will never become extinct while a single soul is kind. As the Greek storyteller Aesop declared twenty-five centuries ago, “no act of kindness, no matter how small is ever wasted.”

A Hopeful Note

Kindness may be hard-pressed in our current day, but the battle isn’t lost. 

The grinch graphic above is the creation of the Random Acts of Kindness Foundation. Their worthwhile goal is to encourage and support lives of kindness. One of their resources, “The Science of Kindness,” describes their uplifting purpose.

And, if you want to experience and emanate not only kindness, the best place to look is to our Creator. Knowing God and trusting the atoning work of Jesus fills us with the very Holy Spirit of our Lord.

As C.S. Lewis discovered when he ceased running away from God while pursuing the empty promises of atheism, the Lord’s desire for humanity is purely good. “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control . . .” (Galatians 5).

God as the Author of Creation

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, Cartoons with a Message, Christian Life, Christianity, History, Interfaith Issues, Ministry, Modern Life, The Bible, The Future, Theological Matters11 Comments

Satan is powerless versus Christians, especially those who know he exists. Yet, vis-à-vis unbelievers, he “prowls around like [an invisible] lion, seeking someone to devour” (1 Peter 5). Christian “immunity” to Lucifer’s power, if not his temptations, is due to the indwelling presence of God’s Holy Spirit.

Still, for every human being, whatever their personal belief, the Devil is no mere cartoon, with whom to be trifled. I discussed this briefly in my previous post, “Only God Can Create,” which you might want to read before continuing here.

As for humanity’s vulnerability to the Devil’s influence, the consensus in paradoxically-labeled “enlightened” cultures is that he doesn’t even exist. Sadly, this cosmic lie even tricks self-described “Christians.”

This illusion plays directly into his purposes, as C.S. Lewis described in The Screwtape Letters. Screwtape, a senior demon, instructs his protégée Wormwood in the preferred method of dispelling human wariness about Evil.

The fact that “devils” are predominantly comic figures in the modern imagination will help you. If any faint suspicion of your existence begins to arise in his mind, suggest to him a picture of something in red tights, and persuade him that since he cannot believe in that (it is an old textbook method of confusing them) he therefore cannot believe in you.

Ironically, the populations of less Westernized cultures possess some immunity to this deception. Even in their traditional religions, there is a keen awareness of the existence of evil presences. In the words of The African Study Bible, “we Africans understand instinctively the stories of angelic visitations, spiritual warfare, and demonic oppression that are in the Bible.”

Christians believe in God, not the Devil. While the Scriptures attest to the personal identity of this fallen angel, acknowledgment of his existence is not salvific (i.e. it is not essential to salvation). Thus, C.S. Lewis is correct in his 1944 essay “Answers to Questions on Christianity” when he writes:

No reference to the Devil or devils is included in any Christian Creeds, and it is quite possible to be a Christian without believing in them. I do believe such beings exist, but that is my own affair.

Supposing there to be such beings, the degree to which humans were conscious of their presence would presumably vary very much. I mean, the more a man was in the Devil’s power, the less he would be aware of it, on the principle that a man is still fairly sober as long as he knows he’s drunk. It is the people who are fully awake and trying hard to be good who would be most aware of the Devil. It is when you start arming against Hitler that you first realize your country is full of Nazi agents.

Of course, they don’t want you to believe in the Devil. If devils exist, their first aim is to give you an anaesthetic – to put you off your guard. Only if that fails, do you become aware of them.

On the Matter of Creative Power

Only God can create. That was the core message of our previous discussion. C.S. Lewis recognized, as do biblically-grounded believers, that Satan is merely a sinful, fallen being, little different from humanity in that regard. This truth shatters the pagan philosophy of dualism, or the misguided notion that two equal and opposite forces (e.g. good and evil) exist in some sort of equilibrium. 

In “The Seeing Eye,” C.S. Lewis described the way in which God is beyond his creation. 

Looking for God – or Heaven – by exploring space is like reading or seeing all Shakespeare’s plays in the hope that you will find Shakespeare as one of the characters . . . Shakespeare is in one sense present at every moment in every play. But he is never present in the same way as Falstaff or Lady Macbeth. . . .

If there were an idiot who thought plays existed on their own, without an author . . . our belief in Shakespeare would not be much affected by his saying, quite truly, that he had studied all the plays and never found Shakespeare in them. . . .

My point is that, if God does exist, He is related to the universe more as an author is related to a play than as one object in the universe is related to another. If God created the universe, He created space-time, which is to the universe as the metre is to a poem or the key is to music.

To look for Him as one item within the framework which He Himself invented is nonsensical. If God – such a God as any adult religion believes in – exists, mere movement in space will never bring you any nearer to Him or any farther from Him than you are at this very moment. You can neither reach Him nor avoid Him by travelling to Alpha Centauri or even to other galaxies.

Mark Twain’s Divinized Satan

I had intended to mention Samuel Clemens in my previous article, as one who advanced the assertion that Satan possesses creative ability. Whether Twain regarded the Devil as an actual entity is certainly debatable. What is undeniable, however, is his devoted defense of Lucifer.

As Twain famously wrote in his autobiographical writings, “But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most?” 

Mark Twain was (in)famous for his atheism, or his agnostic antipathy of the Christian understanding of our Creator. Not content to disbelieve, Samuel Clemens actively worked to undermine Christian faith. One of his books, Letters from the Earth, had to be printed posthumously, due its irreverent (or blasphemous) nature.

It bears a superficial resemblance to C.S. Lewis’ amazing Screwtape Letters – insofar as both fictional works present themselves as demonic correspondence. 

The similarity ends there. While Lewis provides keen insight into Evil’s tactics in wreaking havoc in human lives, Twain’s letters present Satan in a positive, even noble, light.

Letters from the Earth is only one of Mark Twain’s anti-Christian works. The Mysterious Stranger is one of his most bizarre. It evidences his long-term preoccupation with Satan, in that it was composed (in various versions) between 1897 and 1908.

The first serious rendition, The Chronicle of Young Satan, was completed in 1900. I mention it here because there is a scene in which the Devil “creates” a miniature world. Obviously it errs in attributing to Lucifer the power to create life – but to its credit, it does reveal Satan as a capricious, vain, cruel, and compassionless lord.

In 1985 a claymation film was released titled The Adventures of Mark Twain. It features the mock scene from Chronicle of Young Satan. It is quite disturbing. However, if one is curious about the subject, and wishes to be forearmed regarding such deceptions, you can view the excerpt here.

Especially for those who do choose to view Twain’s portrayal of the Devil in his fictional “youth,” I desire to end our current discussion on a positive note.

Claymation was also the medium for a long-lived Christian television series. Davey & Goliath, the story of a regular kid and his dog, ran between 1964 and 1975. Many of the episodes can be seen here.

And finally (and forever), we can celebrate with C.S. Lewis the wonder that this world we currently inhabit will not be God’s sole creation. In fact, because of Jesus’ redemptive sacrifice, we can look forward to a new cosmos, untainted by sin.

The New Testament writers speak as if Christ’s achievement in rising from the dead was the first event of its kind in the whole history of the universe. He is the “first fruits”, the “pioneer of life”.

He has forced open a door that has been locked since the death of the first man. He has met, fought, and beaten the King of Death. Everything is different because He has done so. This is the beginning of the New Creation: a new chapter in cosmic history has opened (Miracles).

Only God Can Create

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, Christian Life, Christianity, Great Authors, J.R.R. Tolkien, Modern Life, Narnia, The Bible, Theological Matters, Writing11 Comments

Satan has many disciples in this world. Some know him by other names, or worship him in spirit without recognizing his actual existence (e.g. Mammon). The irony, of course, is that the Devil is simply a posturer, or in modern parlance, a poser. And the presence of the Holy Spirit makes any single Christian more than his match.

A prime evidence of Satan’s weakness is that he is a mere created being, without any creative powers of his own. Although some would grant the Adversary a glory he does not own, the truth is that since his expulsion from Heaven, he has devolved into the Great Pretender.

C.S. Lewis never pretended to be a theologian (for whatever authority that debatable title might convey). Instead, he was a brilliant disciple of Jesus with a sincere desire to follow the teachings of the Scriptures. Lewis certainly wasn’t infallible (and he has many critics who delight in pointing out that obvious fact).

Nevertheless, Lewis’ private insights on the subject of Lucifer’s noncreative limitation are right on the biblical target. Responding to a question posed by a reader, Lewis offered his opinion. 

Dear Mrs [Belle] Allen, I think it would be dangerous to suppose that Satan had created all the creatures that are disagreeable or dangerous to us for (a) those creatures, if they could think, would have just the same reason for thinking that we were created by Satan. (b) I don’t think evil, in the strict sense, can create.

It can spoil something that Another has created. Satan may have corrupted other creatures as well as us. Part of the corruption in us might be the unreasoning horror and disgust we feel at some creatures quite apart from any harm they can do us. (I can’t abide a spider myself.) (correspondence, 11 January 1954).

No, God alone creates . . . and redeems. The impotent Devil can never create, or rescue. His utter corruption results in an admittedly powerful spiritual being (a fallen angel) who is devoted to twisting, breaking, tainting, warping, spoiling, corrupting, rotting, perverting, and ruining all that God loves.

Granted, in our fallen world, Satan can fashion an abomination from some preexisting thing he corrupts – for example, Ophiocordyceps unilateralis the parasitic fungus that turns ants into zombies – but he can never create something out of nothing. These poor abominations are an excellent example of what Lewis referred to when he described the “horror and disgust we feel at some creatures . . .”

Meanwhile, Human Beings Can Create

Well, not exactly “create” on the creatio ex nihilo (created out of nothing) sense. Only God can do that, as he did when he spoke all things into existence. Just as Aslan echoed, when he sang Narnia into being in Lewis’ Chronicles.

“And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light” (Genesis 1).

“In the beginning was the Word [Logos], and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. . . . All things were made through him . . .” (John 1)

The Lion was pacing to and fro about empty land and singing his new song. It was softer and more lilting than the song by which he had called up the stars and the sun; a gentle, rippling music. And as he walked and sang the valley grew green with grass. It spread out from the Lion like a pool. It ran up the sides of the little hills like a wave” (The Magician’s Nephew)

As for humans like you and me being able to create, that is one of God’s most precious gifts to us. In truth, we use elements already created by the Lord: clay and stone to sculpt, pigments to paint, quill and ink to write.

The Inklings understood this creative impulse quite well. They not only understood it; they lived it. 

Like Christians before and since, they recognized that our creative capacity is based in the fact that we are created imago Dei, in the image of God.

Many people mistakenly believe J.R.R. Tolkien coined the word subcreation (or sub-creation, for the hyphen-infatuated). He certainly applied it for the first time to the intentional creation of what the Oxford English Dictionary calls “the action or process of creating a fully realized and internally consistent imaginary (or ‘secondary’) world.” 

Subcreation may be considered a form of “creation by a created being.” But even the most talented of writers and artists should remember this truth, stated by a Canadian astrophysicist: “God did not grant to the devil or any of his creatures the power to create.”

There is much more to consider on this subject, but Mere Inkling readers will need to wait until my next post, when we will conclude our discussion of this fascinating matter. 

There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them.

They themselves are equally pleased by both errors, and hail a materialist or a magician with the same delight. (The Screwtape Letters).

The image above is based on the work of Émile Bayard (1837-1891), a French illustrator who was born in Cairo, Egypt.

Short-term Sale on C.S. Lewis Study

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, Christian Life, Christianity, Church History, Narnia, Theological Matters9 Comments

C.S. Lewis was a champion of the historic version of the atonement wherein Jesus pays the price for our disobedience, and by his sacrificial death offers us eternal life though faith in him.

There is an excellent new book that is temporarily on sale for a mere three dollars in the Kindle format. (This low price is not due to its value, but to the occasional sales offered by publisher Wipf and Stock.) Check it out right now, because the sale ends on 24 September.

A Narnian Vision of the Atonement: A Defense of the Ransom Theory  was written by Charles Taliaferro, Professor Emeritus of Philosophy at St. Olaf College.

I’m enjoying the volume right now, although “philosophy” per se is far from my passion. But Jesus of Nazareth is. And I am passionate, as well, about the work of Yeshua’s disciple, C.S. Lewis. And Jesus and Lewis are the central characters in Taliaferro’s book.

He makes the subject of doctrine and philosophy quite accessible. I find this especially beneficial in his chapter on “the Ransom Theory and Rival Accounts of the Atonement.” Whereas some theologians are dismissive of the earliest Christian view of the atonement, this volume argues that it is far from incompatible with modern emphases (e.g. the Exemplar Model).

Since the early medieval era (roughly, the eleventh century), theories of the atonement have been any version except the ransom theory. In this chapter we will consider a host of them. I will be painting with a broad brush, with minimal references, in an effort to favorably sketch these accounts.

Afterwards, I will suggest that these accounts are not only compatible with the ransom theory, the ransom theory can provide important support for these so-called rivals.

I strongly commend this volume – especially at this unbelievable price – to anyone interested in C.S. Lewis’ faith or even in basic historic Christianity.

I will close with a wonderful passage from a letter C.S. Lewis wrote in 1954. Discussing theodicy, why God allows the suffering of innocents, Lewis offers this profound insight, inspired by Hebrews 2:10, and, it seems to me, 2 Corinthians 12:9.

Do you know, the suffering of the innocent is less of a problem to me v. often than that of the wicked. It sounds absurd; but I’ve met so many innocent sufferers who seem to be gladly offering their pain to God in Christ as part of the Atonement, so patient, so meek, even so at peace, and so unselfish that we can hardly doubt they are being, as St. Paul says, “made perfect by suffering.”

On the other hand I meet selfish egoists in whom suffering seems to produce only resentment, hate, blasphemy, and more egoism. They are the real problem (11 November 1954).

The Atonement – the restoration of humanity’s proper relationship with our Creator – is the greatest of miracles. And, A Narnian Vision of the Atonement, can help us to better celebrate its wonders.

C.S. Lewis, Liturgy & a Dash of Theology

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, Christian Life, Christianity, Church History, History, Latin, Ministry, Modern Life, Music, The Bible9 Comments

C.S. Lewis wrote: “There is no subject in the world (always excepting sport) on which I have less to say than liturgiology” (Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer).

In Christian usage, the word “liturgy” – derived from leitourgia, and translated “work of the people” or “work for the people” – corresponds to the public worship service.

For some, “liturgy” is regarded as a negative word. It may evoke, in such cases, a sense of sterile ritual or what the Scriptures refer to (in the King James Version) as “vain repetitions” (Matthew 6). The irony is that human beings generally prefer familiarity, and almost all worship is essentially liturgical. 

Nondenominational churches sometimes claim they do not possess a liturgy. In truth, every nonspontaneous worship experience possesses liturgical elements. They may be simple – a welcome or greeting followed by music, prayer, the reading of a Bible passage, often followed by some form of sermon or reflection. Oh, and for American Protestants at least, it appears most consider “announcements” are essential to worship services.

The particular elements vary, but the “liturgical” aspects, normally occur in the same sequence at regular services.

C.S. Lewis was a faithful member of the Church of England. He was also respectful of tradition, and genuinely content with the Book of Common Prayer. While he did not prefer conventional church hymnody, he acknowledged that it blessed others. In “The Classical Anglicanism of C.S. Lewis,” the author says Lewis challenged “the assumptions of a liberal theology which undermined the Church’s confidence in its proclamation” of the Gospel. However, he continues, Lewis “was no reactionary.”

C.S. Lewis loved the simplicity of church worship in its unostentatious form. That was one reason he faithfully attended services at his modest local parish. He referred to himself as a “very ordinary layman.” This was his humble confession, although there was precious little about the scholar that was “ordinary.” Still, he was reticent to comment on ecclesiastical subjects where he possessed no expertise. Thus his complacency with time proven liturgical matters, and his academic disinterest in commenting on them formally.

This, of course, did not apply to theological truths such as the doctrinal core of “Mere Christianity.” C.S. Lewis was deeply troubled by challenges to historic Christian orthodoxy. His devotion to the faith he had once rejected forced him to come to its defense when theologians diverged from “the path of life” (Psalm 16).

In 1959, C.S. Lewis delivered an address now entitled “Fern Seed and Elephants.” It is profound. [You can listen to a reading of “Fern Seed and Elephants” at C.S. Lewis Essays.]

Invited to speak to some clergy about the threat of liberal theologies undermining the Christian faith, Lewis begins by acknowledging his lack of formal theological training.

I am a sheep, telling shepherds what only a sheep can tell them. And now I begin my bleating.

Many of us who have attended seminary, can attest to his fear that what passes for illumination is too often the opposite.

I find in these theologians a constant use of the principle that the miraculous does not occur. Thus any statement put into our Lord’s mouth by the old texts, which, if he had really made it, would constitute a prediction of the future, is taken to have been put in after the occurrence which it seemed to predict.

This is very sensible if we start by knowing that inspired prediction can never occur. Similarly in general, the rejection as unhistorical of all passages which narrate miracles is sensible if we start by knowing that the miraculous in general never occurs.

Now I do not here want to discuss whether the miraculous is possible. I only want to point out that this is a purely philosophical question. Scholars, as scholars, speak on it with no more authority than anyone else. The canon ‘If miraculous, then unhistorical’ is one they bring to their study of the texts, not one they have learned from it.

If one is speaking of authority, the united authority of all the biblical critics in the world counts here for nothing. On this they speak simply as men; men obviously influenced by, and perhaps insufficiently critical of, the spirit of the age they grew up in.

In Lewis’ The Great Divorce, he describes just such a theologian. If you would like to read my article on this subject, “Confused Clerics: The Landlord’s Stewards in C.S. Lewis’s The Pilgrim’s Regress,” just click on the article’s title.

C.S. Lewis ends his essay “Fern Seeds and Elephants” with a sort of apology. Yet, despite his reluctance to venture into the ecclesiastical realm, he shares the compulsion of the Prophet Jeremiah to speak truth. The prophet, who suffered greatly for his faithfulness, said “If I say, ‘I will not mention [God], or speak any more in his name,’ there is in my heart as it were a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot” (Jeremiah 20).

Missionary to the priests of one’s own church is an embarrassing role; though I have a horrid feeling that if such mission work is not soon undertaken the future history of the Church of England is likely to be short.

More Liturgical Wisdom from C.S. Lewis

C.S. Lewis did not begin his vocation as a voice of reason for the clergy when he wrote this essay. On the contrary, his concern for the erosion of sound theology began much earlier. A decade earlier he weighed in on a public discussion of arbitrary liturgical changes in the church. Lewis’ concerns at that time remain valid, more than seventy years later.

Sir,– I agree with Dean Hughes that the connection of belief and liturgy is close, but doubt if it is ‘inextricable.’ I submit that the relation is healthy when liturgy expresses the belief of the Church, morbid when liturgy creates in the people by suggestion beliefs which the Church has not publicly professed, taught, and defended.

If the mind of the Church is, for example, that our fathers erred in abandoning the Romish invocations of saints and angels, by all means let our corporate recantation, together with its grounds in scripture, reason and tradition be published, our solemn act of penitence be performed, the laity re-instructed, and the proper changes in liturgy be introduced.

What horrifies me is the proposal that individual priests should be encouraged to behave as if all this had been done when it has not been done.

One correspondent compared such changes to the equally stealthy and (as he holds) irresistible changes in a language. But that is just the parallel that terrifies me, for even the shallowest philologist knows that the unconscious linguistic process is continually degrading good words and blunting useful distinctions. Absit omen!

Whether an ‘enrichment’ of liturgy which involves a change of doctrine is allowable, surely depends on whether our doctrine is changing from error to truth or from truth to error. Is the individual priest the judge of that? (Church Times, 1 July 1949).

In The Screwtape Letters, an experienced devilish tempter is training a subordinate. In Letter XVI, he discusses attending a church with which his target “is not wholly pleased.”

Laying aside the matter of the futility of ever finding a perfect church – after all, they are made up of people – the letter cautions us about some of the criticisms related to the topic at hand. Since many aspects of Screwtape’s vile advice relate to our own vulnerabilities, I will close with an admittedly lengthy excerpt from the correspondence.

My dear Wormwood, You mentioned casually in your last letter that the patient has continued to attend one church, and one only, since he was converted, and that he is not wholly pleased with it. May I ask what you are about? Why have I no report on the causes of his fidelity to the parish church? Do you realise that unless it is due to indifference it is a very bad thing?

Surely you know that if a man can’t be cured of churchgoing, the next best thing is to send him all over the neighbourhood looking for the church that ‘suits’ him until he becomes a taster or connoisseur of churches. The reasons are obvious. In the first place the parochial organisation should always be attacked, because, being a unity of place and not of likings, it brings people of different classes and psychology together in the kind of unity the Enemy [in Screwtape’s case, the Enemy to whom he refers, is God] desires. The congregational principle, on the other hand, makes each church into a kind of club, and finally, if all goes well, into a coterie or faction.

In the second place, the search for a ‘suitable’ church makes the man a critic where the Enemy wants him to be a pupil. . . . [One nearby congregation boasts a] Vicar is a man who has been so long engaged in watering down the faith to make it easier for a supposedly incredulous and hard-headed congregation that it is now he who shocks his parishioners with his unbelief, not vice versa. He has undermined many a soul’s Christianity. His conduct of the services is also admirable. In order to spare the laity all ‘difficulties’ he has deserted both the lectionary and the appointed psalms and now, without noticing it, revolves endlessly round the little treadmill of his fifteen favourite psalms and twenty favourite lessons. . . .

[While encouraging church shopping], all the purely indifferent things – candles and clothes and what not – are an admirable ground for our activities. We have quite removed from men’s minds what that pestilent fellow Paul used to teach about food and other unessentials – namely, that the human without scruples should always give in to the human with scruples.

You would think they could not fail to see the application. You would expect to find the ‘low’ churchman genuflecting and crossing himself lest the weak conscience of his ‘high’ brother should be moved to irreverence, and the ‘high’ one refraining from these exercises lest he should betray his ‘low’ brother into idolatry.

And so it would have been but for our ceaseless labour. Without that the variety of usage within the Church of England might have become a positive hotbed of charity and humility.

C.S. Lewis & the Colors of Heaven

On By robstroudIn C.S. Lewis, Christian Life, Christianity, Modern Life, Narnia, Nature, The Future, Theological Matters13 Comments

What wonders await the color blind in Heaven! That thought recently occurred to me out of the proverbial blue. 

I was sitting on my patio, tossing a ball to my border collie, when she decided to explore some of the local forest scents, as she is wont to do. As I normally do, I used that peaceful, shalom moment, to pray.

I don’t recall whether I closed my eyes, or gazed at the brilliantly white clouds dancing above me. In either case, my mind and spirit were focused on prayer. Prayer for those I love, and for strangers I have never met.

What wonders await the color blind in the presence of God. Too profound for me to take credit for thinking, but perhaps one of those serendipitous epiphanies God offers unexpectedly to his children.

In The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis describes an excursion to the foothills of Heaven. The sheer reality of Heaven exceeds fallen humanity’s ability to comprehend it.

Before me green slopes made a wide amphitheatre, enclosing a frothy and pulsating lake into which, over many-coloured rocks, a waterfall was pouring.

Here once again I realised that something had happened to my senses so that they were now receiving impressions which would normally exceed their capacity. On Earth, such a waterfall could not have been perceived at all as a whole; it was too big. Its sound would have been a terror in the woods for twenty miles. Here, after the first shock, my sensibility ‘took’ both as a well-built ship takes a huge wave. I exulted. . . .

Near the place where the fall plunged into the lake there grew a tree. Wet with the spray, half-veiled in foam-bows, flashing with the bright, innumerable birds that flew among its branches, it rose in many shapes of billowy foliage, huge as a fen-land cloud. From every point apples of gold gleamed through the leaves.

When the Narnians sail to the “edge of the world,” they are greeted by a wonder that hints at the beauty of Heaven beyond. Barring their way into that place it rose “between them and the sky, a greenish-gray, trembling, shimmering wall.”

Then up came the sun, and at its first rising they say it through the wall and it turned into wonderful rainbow colors. Then they knew that the wall was really a long, tall wave – a wave endlessly fixed in one place . . . (Voyage of the Dawn Treader).

At the end of the Chronicles of Narnia, C.S. Lewis ushers his heroes into Heaven. They too experience the overwhelming awe inspired by their divine surroundings. 

It is as hard to explain how this sunlit land was different from the old Narnia as it would be to tell you how the fruits of that country taste. Perhaps you will get some idea of it if you think like this. You may have been in a room in which there was a window that looked out on a lovely bay of the sea or a green valley that wound away among mountains.

And in the wall of that room opposite to the window there may have been a looking-glass. And as you turned away from the window you suddenly caught sight of that sea or that valley, all over again, in the looking-glass. And the sea in the mirror, or the valley in the mirror, were in one sense just the same as the real ones: yet at the same time they were somehow different – deeper, more wonderful, more like places in a story: in a story you have never heard but very much want to know.

The difference between the old Narnia and the new Narnia was like that. The new one was a deeper country: every rock and flower and blade of grass looked as if it meant more. I can’t describe it any better than that: if you ever get there you will know what I mean (The Last Battle).

I find Lewis’ fictional visions of Heaven inspiring in their self-confessed inadequacies. Heaven, no doubt, is profoundly more glorious than any human being can imagine.

The Bible employs brilliant colors to help describe Heaven’s beauty. In John’s vision of Heaven we find these descriptions:

And he who sat [upon the throne] had the appearance of jasper and carnelian, and around the throne was a rainbow that had the appearance of an emerald. Around the throne were twenty-four thrones, and seated on the thrones were twenty-four elders, clothed in white garments, with golden crowns on their heads.

From the throne came flashes of lightning, and rumblings and peals of thunder . . . and before the throne there was as it were a sea of glass, like crystal (Revelation 4).

[An angel] showed me the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of Heaven from God, having the glory of God, its radiance like a most rare jewel, like a jasper, clear as crystal. . . .

The wall was built of jasper, while the city was pure gold, like clear glass. The foundations of the wall of the city were adorned with every kind of jewel. The first was jasper, the second sapphire, the third agate, the fourth emerald, the fifth onyx, the sixth carnelian, the seventh chrysolite, the eighth beryl, the ninth topaz, the tenth chrysoprase, the eleventh jacinth, the twelfth amethyst. And the twelve gates were twelve pearls, each of the gates made of a single pearl, and the street of the city was pure gold, like transparent glass (Revelation 21).

The Power of Color

Colors are not merely aesthetic. Their influence on human perception has been studied for many years. One key researcher, Faber Birren (1900-88), served as a respected consultant on the subject for numerous businesses and even the United States government itself. 

“Shades of Meaning” relates that “in 1939, Walt Disney invited Birren to work as a color consultant. He ended up advising Disney animators on the design of Bambi, Fantasia, and Pinocchio.” 

In Color Psychology and Color Therapy, Birren begins his discussion of the subject with the proposal that “it is perhaps a mistaken notion that man in his love of color was impelled by some aesthetic urge.” He contends that:

The greatest weight of evidence points to the fact that color was involved with the supernatural and therefore had significance that went beyond what might be thought of as mere sensuous delight. . . .

Color, being a manifestation of light, held divine meaning. Historical records of color show little interest in the physical nature of color, nor yet in its abstract beauty, but in a symbolism that attempted to resolve the strange workings of creation and give it personal and human meaning.

If this spiritual aspect of color is actual, then being colorblind carries a liability beyond simply missing out on one of life’s simple pleasures.

Color Blindness Among Humanity

You may not know anyone who is color blind. That’s not surprising, since it isn’t a common subject of conversation. Nevertheless, in the general population, approximately eight percent – or 1 in 12 – men suffer from some form of it. Meanwhile, the rate of this condition, which is most frequently genetic, for women is far lower. Only about one in two hundred.

There are several varieties of color vision deficiency, with most people able to perceive some shades of certain colors. The most severe form of the problem involves a failure to see any colors. Only shades of gray distinguish between different hues. It’s called achromatopsia, and is quite rare. 

Achromatopsia is a congenital hereditary condition found in only one birth in every 33,000 to 50,000 births.  Thus less than 10,000 Americans may have achromatopsia. There are two basic forms . . . Rod Monochromatism, . . . is the most common [and] routinely occurs in both men and women. . . .

Blue Cone Monochromatism has an incidence of 1 in 50,000-100,000 births in males and could be as rare as 1 in 10 billion in females.

If you are curious about achromatopsia, you should definitely read about research on a Micronesian Island where ten percent of the people share this affliction.

Many individuals first learned of achromatopsia in 1997, when Oliver Sacks published his classic book, Island of the Color Blind.  This story beautifully chronicles Oliver Sack’s 1994 quest with Knut Nordby and Bob Wasserman to the isolated atoll of Pingelap in Micronesia, where 10% of the population have rod monochromatism. A video of the journey is available here.

Possible Visions of Heaven

Although I am quite wary of so-called near death experiences (with some being spurious, and others, spiritual deception), it is intriguing how color has entered into a number of the stories. The following examples appear in the accounts of several different individuals in Imagine Heaven: Near-Death Experiences, God’s Promises, and the Exhilarating Future that Awaits You.

The entire city was bathed in light, an opaque whiteness in which the light was intense but diffused. In that dazzling light every color imaginable seemed to exist and – what’s the right word? – played. The colors seemed to be alive, dancing in the air. I had never seen so many different colors. It was breathtaking.

Below me lay the purest, most perfect grass, precisely the right length and not a blade that was bent or even out of place. It was the most vibrant green I had ever seen. If a color can be said to be alive, the green I saw was alive, slightly transparent and emitting light and life from within each blade. The iridescent grass stretched endlessly over gently rolling hills upon which were sprinkled the most colorful wild flowers, lifting their soft-petaled beauty skyward, almost as if they were a chorus of flowers caught up in their own way of praising God.

The most gorgeous sky ever seen here on earth cannot even come close to the atmosphere in Heaven.  It is bright because of the glory of our God. . . .  The atmosphere is something you experience, not just see.  It is golden, yellow, white, and had more colors moving throughout it . . . like the Aurora Borealis lights.

The sky [and] the firmament surrounding the heavens, were a wilder and bluer yonder than you would ever believe. . . . The closest shade I can associate this otherworldly blue with is the surreal tones of the water in the Caribbean or off the coast of Hawaii at sunset. . . . That color is waiting for you and me on the other side.

The colors and lights in Heaven were simply sublime. . . . They were the deepest, richest, most gloriously lush colors I had ever seen, and some I had never seen before. Heaven is a dream-come-true for those who love all things colorful, and our home there is lit by the Father of Lights. . . . [There were] robust and bold and vigorous beams that were somehow gentle to my eyes. I simply don’t think those colors and lights exist on earth.

I saw the most dazzling colors, which was all the more surprising because I’m color-blind. I can distinguish the primary colors, but pastels all look the same to me. But suddenly I could see them, all kinds of different shades. Don’t ask me to name them because I lack the necessary experience for that.

Take a Moment to Test Your Own Color Vision

There are a number of simple, free vision tests available online. If you want to assure yourself that you can see all of the normal colors – though not necessarily all of the heavenly colors awaiting us – check out one of the following.

Color Blind Test

EnChroma Color Blind Test

X-Rite Color Challenge and Hue Test

Colorlite Collection of Tests

Final Thoughts

When I described the wonders awaiting the color blind in Heaven, I was referring to all of us. (In this life, as the Scriptures say, “For now we see in a mirror dimly . . .” (1 Corinthians 13).

All who trust in the love of Jesus Christ, and thereby enter Heaven’s environs by the unmerited grace of God’s mercy, will be overwhelmed by its beauty and wonder.

The million or more colors a person with full vision can now see, will be eclipsed by the infinite tapestry of hues in our Creator’s mind. Even those with the scientifically-presumed capability to currently perceive distinctions between up to 100 million will surely be in awe.

C.S. Lewis closes our discussion of Heaven’s colors with a fascinating thought related to the angels who worship God in that divine place. Lewis begins by noting a significant distinction between God’s angels and humanity.

But for our body one whole realm of God’s glory – all that we receive through the senses-would go unpraised. For the beasts can’t appreciate it and the angels are, I suppose, pure intelligences.

They understand colors and tastes better than our greatest scientists; but have they retinas or palates? 

I fancy the “beauties of nature” are a secret God has shared with us alone. That may be one of the reasons why we were made-and why the resurrection of the body is an important doctrine (Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer).