Lenten Reflection: Not for the Faint of Heart

The following is the fourth in a series of reflections on The Great Divorce.
For more reflections on this work, check out the hub page for the series.

I share these thoughts hoping they are of help to someone else.

Comments are always welcomed.

If you find this post helpful, please consider sharing.

Not for the Faint of Heart

A reflection on chapter 3 of C.S. Lewis's The Great Divorce

Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, "The time is fulfilled, and the Kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news."

Mark 1:14-15 (NRSV)

God, I want to dream again

Take me where I've never been

I want to go there

This time I'm not scared

From "Unbreakable" by Fireflight

If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, then you know that, after I graduated from college, I began working as a software engineer for a casino vendor.  Three months after I lost that first job, I began working as a programmer for a local technical college.  What I haven't mentioned previously is that, while I was seeking a job, the dean of another college I contacted reached out to me and asked if I would be interested in teaching a course in basic computer skills.  A few days after we met, I decided not to pursue the teaching job and to instead continue pursuing the programming job.

I don't regret my decision, for I like my current job a lot more than I liked my first one.  Also, my current job has given me the opportunity to use my programming skills to help people and not to simply take people's money.  Every once in a while, though, I wonder what might have happened if I had just stepped out of my comfort zone and pursued the teaching job.

---

The flying bus overtakes a cliff before it finally lands at its destination.  The passengers disembark to find that they have arrived at a vast natural landscape, full of light and inhabited by flora and fauna of all kinds - nothing like the "grey town" they had left hours earlier.  The protagonist looks around him and sees great forests and valleys, high mountain cities, and sunlight starting to peer over the mountains.  The protagonist sees his fellow passengers in the light of their new surroundings and realizes that they are transparent.  He looks down and discovers that he can also see through himself.

The people from the town are not people at all: they are ghosts.

Unlike the ghosts who just came off of the bus - and unlike the city they just left - everything in this new place is completely solid and as hard as diamond: the ghosts are unable to move anything.  The blades of grass penetrate their feet as they walk, causing them a great deal of pain.  The protagonist rubs his fingers raw trying to pick a flower, and he wears himself out just trying to lift a single leaf.  One ghost runs back onto the bus, totally weirded out by her surroundings.

Later on, the ghosts notice, in the distance, a group of people heading toward them - bright, solid, healthy-looking people, totally unlike them.  These residents of this new land - these spirits from Heaven - are actually able to affect the environment around them, for the ground shakes as they make their way toward the ghosts.  Two more ghosts become frightened and get back on the bus, while the rest of them huddle together in fear.

---

In The Great Divorce, Heaven is a rather scary place, at least to those who travel there from Hell.  Equally perplexing is the fact that Lewis's depiction of Hell doesn't really seem all that bad.  The dank, dingy, drizzly town is a far cry from the depiction of Hell we are typically presented in various media - a lake of fire full of people writhing in constant agony.  What if the things we've been taught about Heaven and Hell are overly simplistic?  What if the truth about these two realities is much more subtle and complex?

What if, in some sick way, Hell is actually more comfortable than Heaven?

What if Hell is all of the bad things that bring us comfort, while Heaven is all of the awesome things God wants for us that initially frighten us?

What if Hell is the mediocre existence to which we often resign ourselves, while Heaven is the indescribably amazing existence we desire in the depths of our souls but are far too often too afraid to reach out and grab?

One of the first things Jesus says when He begins His public ministry is, "The time is fulfilled, and the Kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news."  What Jesus calls the "Kingdom of God" and what we normally call "Heaven" are not exactly the same thing, but they can both be understood as the place where God reigns.  According to Jesus, whatever God has in mind for us will require some repentance on our part.  As I have mentioned numerous times on this blog, the word translated into English as "Repentance" is the Greek word Metanoia, which literally means a change of mind, particularly one that results in an outward change in one's life.¹

So often we think about Heaven as a place of endless bliss where all of our happiest dreams come true.  Maybe we're wrong.  So often we forget that Jesus taught us to pray, "Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done," and not, "My kingdom come; my will be done."  Whether we're talking about Heaven or the Kingdom of God, it is not the place where our dreams come true but rather the place where God's dreams come true.  If we want to participate in what God is doing, then we might need to reconsider our dreams.  Jesus says multiple times that, in the Kingdom of God, the first will be last and the last will be first.²  That's not very good news for the people at the top, at least not until they can begin to see a bigger picture and learn to hold their status a bit more loosely.

The protagonist will eventually figure out that if he hangs out in Heaven long enough, he just might firm up enough to be able to actually live there.  Confronting our darkness is only the first step: at some point we will have to do something about it.  Whatever God has in mind for us will require some adaptation, some adjustment, some realignment, some getting-used-to on our part - in other words, some repentance.

I think that C.S. Lewis, in his depiction of Heaven, is making an important statement about the Kingdom of God: it is not for the faint of heart.  We will be required to leave the safety of our comfort zones, and there will be growing pains along the way as we align ourselves to the example provided by Jesus Christ.  Again, may we not be afraid.


Notes:

1. Wikipedia: Metanoia (theology)
2. See Matthew 19:30 and Matthew 20:16.

The photograph of the landscape is used courtesy of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and is public domain.

Lenten Reflection: The Light Exposes the Darkness

The following is the third in a series of reflections on The Great Divorce.
For more reflections on this work, check out the hub page for the series.

I share these thoughts hoping they are of help to someone else.

Comments are always welcomed.

If you find this post helpful, please consider sharing.

The Light Exposes the Darkness

A reflection on chapter 2 of C.S. Lewis's The Great Divorce

And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil.  For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed.  But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.

John 3:19-21 (NRSV)

I'll face myself

To cross out what I've become

Erase myself

And let go of what I've done

From "What I've Done" by Linkin Park

I once heard Peter Rollins remark that the most successful Christian denomination is Alcoholics Anonymous.¹  I think that maybe he has a point.  Perhaps salvation is less like a simple three-step process, as it is presented by many Christians, and more like a grueling twelve-step process found in an addiction recovery program, following which one is in a perpetual state of recovery.  Interestingly, both processes begin with the same step, the admission that one has a problem from which he or she needs to be saved.

---

As the bus continues on its flight, the view of the town below morphs into a featureless field of gray stretching as far as the eye can see.  The protagonist waits on the bus for hours, speaking with various other passengers - a poet who became so fed up with his life that he threw himself beneath a train, an intelligent man who wants to find some "real commodities" at their destination and introduce them to the town they just left, and a bishop who has some surprisingly high hopes for the town.  At one point, a brawl breaks out on the bus.  Shots are fired, but somehow nobody is harmed.

As the bus approaches its destination, light floods the bus, and the protagonist begins to see the other passengers in a new way.  In his own words,
I shrank from the faces and forms by which I was surrounded.  They were all fixed faces, full not of possibilities but impossibilities, some gaunt, some bloated, some glaring with idiotic ferocity, some drowned beyond recovery in dreams; but all, in one way or another, distorted and faded.  One had a feeling that they might fall to pieces at any moment if the light grew much stronger.

And then, in a mirror in the back of the bus, the protagonist catches a glimpse of his own reflection.

---

Around two thousand years ago, in the Middle East, there lived a man named Saul.  To say that Saul was a devout Jew would be an understatement: he kept the Jewish Law to the letter and sought to keep his religion pure from the heresy that was spreading at the time, the idea that an executed criminal named Jesus was the long-awaited Messiah and that this Jesus had been resurrected from the dead.  He took part in the execution of at least one such heretic, and he received permission to track down other heretics that fled from Jerusalem to the town of Damascus.²

On the way to Damascus, a blinding light knocks Saul to his knees, and a Voice calls out, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?"  Saul asks, "Who are you, Lord?" and the Voice answers, "I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting."  Saul arises, unable to see.³  Barry Taylor would say that Saul has experienced a "revelation of darkness."  Saul not only sees the light, he sees the darkness as well.  He is blinded, left in the dark to face the fact that he had been persecuting innocent people.⁴

I would say that, when the protagonist of The Great Divorce is exposed to the light of Heaven and sees his own reflection, he has his own "revelation of darkness," for he sees himself for who he really is.  It is not uncommon for people to be afraid of the dark, but I wonder if, in some sense, a fear of the Light might actually be a lot more common.  When we are exposed to the pure Light of Heaven, we are forced to confront the truth about ourselves, including the things we don't particularly want to see in ourselves.

The Light exposes the darkness.

We are promised that, if we honestly confess our wrongdoings and offer our brokenness to God, we will find grace in the form of forgiveness and healing.⁵  If God is truly all-knowing, then, when we confess such things to God, we are not actually telling God anything that God doesn't already know.  Confession to God requires us to get real about ourselves, telling those secrets we've been trying to keep from ourselves.

Stepping out into the light and facing our own darkness can be truly frightening, but it is the only way to find salvation and recovery.  Jesus once said, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I have come to call not the righteous but sinners."⁶  Sick people cannot receive treatment if they're unwilling to admit they're sick and go to the doctor, and, likewise, we cannot receive healing from God if we are in denial that we are broken.

Facing our own brokenness can be scary, but we can take comfort in the promise that, amid the darkness, we will find grace.  Saul received grace in the form of healing, a new community, a new faith, a new purpose in life, and even a new name; the passengers on the bus will receive new life in Heaven if they will only accept it; and we are likewise invited to receive new and abundant life.  May we not be afraid of the Light.  May we not be afraid to face the truth about ourselves - the good, the bad, and the ugly - and may we be open to the grace God offers us.


Notes:

1. Barry Taylor, Tripp Fuller, Peter Rollins, and Bo Sanders.  "Revelation of Darkness LIVE Event: Taylor’s F-it Theology, Rollins reaches behind the curtain."  Homebrewed Christianity Podcast, 05/08/13.  (Warning: This podcast episode contains coarse language.)
2. See Philippians 3:4-6, Acts 7:58, and Acts 9:1-2.
3. Acts 9:3-9
4. Homebrewed Christianity Podcast, 05/08/13.
5. 1 John 1:9
6. Mark 2:17 (NRSV)

The photograph featured in this post was taken by Bobbi Jones and is public domain.  The photographer is in no way affiliated with this blog.

Lenten Reflection: Hell Is Not Other People

The following is the second in a series of reflections on The Great Divorce.
For more reflections on this work, check out the hub page for the series.

I share these thoughts hoping they are of help to someone else.

Comments are always welcomed.

If you find this post helpful, please consider sharing.

Hell Is (Not) Other People

A reflection on chapters 1 and 2 of C.S. Lewis's The Great Divorce

Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil.  For if they fall, one will lift up the other; but woe to one who is alone and falls and does not have another to help.  Again, if two lie together, they keep warm; but how can one keep warm alone?  And though one might prevail against another, two will withstand one.  A threefold cord is not quickly broken.

Ecclesiastes 4:9-12 (NRSV)

You're too important for anyone

You play the role of all you long to be

But I, I know who you really are

You're the one who cries when you're alone

From "Where Will You Go?" by Evanescence

One morning not too long ago, I had a vision of Hell.  Actually, I wouldn't really call it a vision or even a dream for that matter.  I think it was really just a strange imagining of a half-awakened brain.  I noticed none of the things commonly associated with Hell: no lake of fire or devils with pitchforks.  There were only black clouds above me, red dust beneath me, and some ruins on the horizon.  Probably what was most noteworthy about my "vision" of Hell was the fact that I was the only person there.

I suppose it was really more of a revelation of my own fears than a revelation of the afterlife.

---

The Great Divorce opens at a bus stop.  The protagonist has been wandering the streets of a dank, dingy town for an indeterminate amount of time.  In this town, rain is always falling, and darkness always seems to be encroaching, though, at the same time, the sun never fully sets.  The protagonist gets in line and waits for the bus, though he has no idea where the bus will take him.  By the time the bus arrives, half of the people who were in line when he arrived have left.  Some got into an altercations with other people in line, and some just weren't all that interested in getting on the bus.  Those still in line board the bus, and the bus lifts off from the ground and sails into the unknown.

The place to which they are heading is Heaven.

The place they are leaving is Hell.

---

It has been said that "every journey starts with a single step."  Perhaps the same could be said about the journey of faith.  For the protagonist, the first step on the journey from perdition to the presence of God is getting in line at the bus stop.  But why did he take that first step?  Why did he get in line in the first place?  In his own words,
I never met anyone.  But for the little crowd at the bus stop, the whole town seemed to be empty.  I think that was why I attached myself to the queue.

In other words, he didn't want to be alone.

Getting in line at the bus stop would prove to be the start of a journey of faith, but it was not a journey of faith the protagonist was seeking when he got in line.  He got in line to be with the only people he could find in town.  A question I have pondered many times in my life is whether or not a person can truly find God if he or she actually seeking something else.  Must a person seek God for God's own sake?  Or can a person simply stumble into a journey with God, as the protagonist seemingly does?

I would argue that the desire to be with other people can lead a person to God, for I can personally identify with the protagonist in this story.

I grew up in the United Methodist Church, but the major spiritual influence during the first two decades of my life was the excessively strict fundamentalist school I attended from the second grade through my senior year.  My high-school graduation marked my escape from fundamentalism, but I never left Christianity behind.  I continued to attend my home church, which was from a tradition more liberal than the school I attended, but going to church was only something I did out of habit.  I wasn't very intentional about my faith at the time.  I knew that I needed to be a Christian if I didn't want to go to Hell when I died, but I wasn't quite certain I actually wanted to be a Christian.  I felt that, if I were to really sink my teeth into Christianity, I wouldn't enjoy my life very much.

One day, at the beginning of my junior year in college, I saw that the Wesley Fellowship, the United Methodist group at my university, was hosting an ice cream social, and I decided to check it out.  To be perfectly honest, I wasn't really interested in the group for purely spiritual reasons: actually, I was hoping that I might find a nice girlfriend.  That group meant more to me than I thought it would: in fact, I ended up staying involved with the group long after I graduated from college.  Though I never found a girlfriend within the group, I found something I craved deep within my soul - community.  I found Christian peers who showed me that a person could love God and love life at the same time.

I think that my time with the Wesley Fellowship somehow altered the trajectory of my life.  Attending the ice cream social that evening turned out to be the first step on my journey to become more than a Christian in name only, yet I had no idea that I was setting out on such a journey.

When the protagonist looks down through the window of the bus, he notices that the town stretches out as far as the eye can see.  He strikes up a conversation with another man on the bus, and he learns that the reason that the town is so large yet so sparsely populated is the fact that the people in the town simply cannot get along with one another.  People keep relocating just to get away from each other.  If one reaches the edge of the town, he or she can imagine more streets and houses into existence, so the town keeps growing and growing with each miserable soul that arrives.

Philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre once famously suggested that "Hell is other people."  In The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis seems to imply the opposite, that Hell is isolation.  Perhaps Hell is not other people but rather a rejection of other people.  Reflecting on the creation stories found at the beginning of the Bible, the great poet John Milton once mused, "Loneliness is the first thing which God's eye named not good."¹  The desire for companionship and community are, I believe, built by God into our very nature as humans.  If this is the case, then perhaps a move toward love and fellowship is a move toward God, and perhaps a move toward isolation is a move away from God.

So often, Christians stress the importance of a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, but Jesus himself came to earth to build His Church, the worldwide community of all believers.  He said that "where two or three are gathered in [His] name," He is in their midst.²  Though a personal relationship with God is important, it is utter folly to neglect the communal aspect of our faith.  Somehow, our relationship to God is mystically connected to our relationships with other people.

The protagonist will soon learn that the journey he started is not one that he can complete on his own: he will need help.  In the same way, the journey of faith is not one that we are meant to travel on our own, for God created us for community.  If you, the reader, are not currently a part of a loving community of faith, I urge you to find one.  Personally, I would hate to imagine where I would be without the faith communities in my life.


Notes:

1. See Genesis 2:18.
2. Matthew 18:20 (NRSV)

The photograph of the bus stop sign was taken by Paul Brennan and is public domain.  The photographer is in no way affiliated with this blog.  The photograph was made monochrome by Tony Snyder.