I’ve been reading (very slowly) C.S. Lewis’ space trilogy. I’m currently on the second book, Perelandre. It’s not unlike his other fictional works—wordy, but really insightful.

Currently, the main Character, Ransom, is exploring another planet. In the universe Lewis has illustrated, God (called Maleldil) has made many worlds other than Earth. The world Ransom finds himself on now is in a sort of pre-fall era. He is speaking with a woman (or woman like creature) who consistently doesn’t understand what he is saying because he comes from Earth, a post-fall world.

Their interaction I read yesterday was really interesting. The woman explains to Ransom that there is a certain part of her world which Maleldil has forbidden that they live on—although she doesn’t know why exactly.

Their interaction went like this:

“At least,” [Ransom] added in a louder voice, “this forbidding is no hardship in such a world as yours.”

“That also is a strange thing to say,” replied the lady. “Who thought of its being hard? The beasts would not think it hard if I told them to walk on their heads. It would become their delight to walk on their heads. I am His beast, and all his biddings are joys…”

This is truly a compelling way to view God’s commands. What reason really do we have to view God’s commands as anything less than joys in and of themselves—unless of course we are naturally driven by something intrinsically opposed to God and his commands. Which we are.

I suppose this is part of redemption that comes in Jesus’ death and resurrection. And, without a doubt, part of the idea conveyed in Galatians 5:16:

“But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.”

CS Lewis writes:

“If you read history you will find that the Christians who did most for the present world were precisely those who thought most of the next. It is since Christians have largely ceased to think of the other world that they have become so ineffective in this.”

Convicting sentiment. Could it be that the church today is so ineffective in our world today precisely because she’s so concerned with getting things right in our world?

Concerned so much with the form and function here that she never stops to think about there? There’s a reason the book of Revelation was given. Interesting how little it’s regarded.

C.S. Lewis’ Perelandre is (as would be expected) full of insights. As I read today, two main characters shared a dialogue about desires and their fulfillment or unfulfillment.

It would seem that in any situation in which something is to be received, whether food, or good fortune, or prosperity, or relationships, we have some concept in our minds already as to what outcome we wish to experience—at least on a subconscious level. When we receive what we had not expected, what we do receive becomes bitter. Even if the thing itself is sweet.

As adopted children of God, every gift we are given is from him and is good in its own right. And, coming from him will lead only to our pleasure in him. Yet, when we establish our desires quietly in our minds, we make the gifts we do receive (should they differ from our expectations) seem like rubbish when they’re given.

I can’t help but wonder if this is, at least partially, what Paul had in mind when he wrote to the church at Philippi. Philippians 4:11-13:

“Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.”

Perhaps it is that Paul realized that forming his own desires only serves to spoil the gifts he is given—whether they are in abundance or modesty. And instead, saw that to look only to Christ will give him satisfaction in whatever the Lord sees fit to give.

What a challenge it is to desire nothing but the Lord—but what a reward it must be!

Last year, I read the first book in C.S. Lewis’ space trilogy titled Out of the Silent Planet. It was really good. So when I finished I was eager to begin the second, Perelandra. It wasn’t as good. In fact, it was downright boring. I only got through five chapters before I couldn’t take it anymore and I went back to my theology books.

Well yesterday, after giving too much time to television, I thought I’d give the book a second chance. As it turns out, I stopped one chapter before things picked up.

In fact, what’s unrolled since has been quite exciting.

In any case, I came across a great little C.S. Lewis nugget as I was reading and thought I’d share.

In our story, Ransom, the main character, is on a strange planet unlike anything on earth. After nearly going hungry, he gets up some nerve to eat something that seemed to be a kind of fruit. Eating it, he realized that it had a profound kind of taste. One that he longed to eat and eat and eat. But, he abstains because he holds gluttony as a great evil.

When thinking about this later on in his journey, he has some interesting insights:

“This itch to have things over again, as if life were a film that could be unrolled twice or even made to work backwards… was it possibly the root of all evil? No: of course the love of money was called that. But money itself—perhaps one valued it chiefly as a defense against chance, a security for being able to have things over again, a means of arresting the unrolling of film.” (p.43)

Hmm… Perhaps our gluttonous behavior is more dangerous than we think it is. Maybe we should take a cue from Ransom and abstain—even if we don’t have to.

Being that I finished reading The Prodigal God tonight, I thought that I was going to use today’s post to share my impression of the book. But, in the final pages of the book, I was struck by a quotation from C.S. Lewis that holds some really thought provoking ideas. I will save you the whole text and just paraphrase instead–just know that it’s worth reading for yourself.

in a quotation from C.S. Lewis’ The Four Loves. Lewis is talking about his friendship with Tolkein and Charles Williams. When Williams died, Lewis wrote this about their small community’s friendship:

“Now that Charles is dead, I shall never again see Ronald’s [Tolkien's] reaction to specifically Charles joke. Far from having more of Ronald “to myself” now that Charles is away, I have less of Ronald.”

Lewis has brought up a shocking point. Community has a distinct way of revealing people to itself. Lewis is saying that although he now has more of Tolkien’s time and attention, he actually has less of him in that he cannot see his interaction and affection for Williams. This is the affect that community has, not only to reveal itself, but more importantly to reveal God.

In God’s body there are different members, with different functions. In a body that is distinctly lacking in certain types of gifts, it’s common to find people with a slightly (or dramatically) skewed view of God–God is mostly love. Or mostly power. But in a community that has a more full gamut of gifts, the balance in people’s perception seems much healthier. This appears to be clearly the part of the design in community. Not only does community enjoy itself more because of itself, but the presence of community actually increases perception and ability to relate to God.

Lewis concludes with this thought:

“[This is why], says an old author, [that] the Seraphim in Isaiah’s vision are crying “Holy, Holy, Holy” to one another (Isaiah 6:3). The more we thus share the Heavenly Bread between us, the more we shall have.”

To pursue God in community, increases God in community. Even with less time in community and more time alone “with” God, we may in fact receive less of God. That’s pretty awesome. Fresh light on a well worn doctrine.

“Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery’s shadow or reflection: the fact that you don’t merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief.”

CS Lewis is right. Sadness has a way of snowballing. It’s in perpetual motion. The very feeling of depression is in itself depressing.

But I think that true delight in God is supposed to be the same way. Jesus is enjoyable. The most enjoyable. But as we enjoy him, we are also meant to enjoy that we get to do so, so that our enjoyment snowballs.

It’s a shame our tendency is to put a stop to that snowball and not so often the other.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

This movie gets four diamonds. Whatever that means.

I guess today’s post is going to be a very early one. I just got home from seeing the first possible showing of The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian. Well of course, what else could one expect? I’m a Christian and I guess I do things like that. That’s exactly what Disney and Walden Media are banking on. Literally.

I will say up front that Narnia is an obvious, shameless attempt to capitalize on the growing population of Americans who proactively call themselves Christians. I’m certain that many fans of the original C.S. Lewis works will have grievances with the film adaptation of this installment in the series, but there’s something important to note here. Between C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media, there is a very important difference. C.S. Lewis was a writer to the glory of God, with the end hope that those who didn’t know Jesus would, and those who did know Jesus would fall more deeply in love with him. His articulate and inspiring allegories and non-fiction works have done this for a vast number of people. Walden Media and Disney, on the other hand, have one thing in mind. Money. They are businesses and it’s what they do, it’s what they exist for and it would be silly for us to expect otherwise.

However more shallow the purpose in producing this series may be, it does not change that an excellent job was done.

For those who are unfamiliar with this installment of the Narnia series, Peter, Edmund, Lucy and Susan have been back in the real world for a year since they’re first trip to Narnia when suddenly they are whisked back. In Narnia times, somewhere around 1000 years have passed and the whimsical creatures of the ancient land have been forced into hiding by a line of corrupt kings of the “son’s of Adam”. When the gang arrives on the scene, they discover things to be quite different than they remember and a lot rougher (also a quality of the film, clearly contrasting the last installment). Alongside Prince Caspian, the rightful heir to the throne, the crew must lead the Narnians in a fight against the army’s of men.

When compared to the story’s close relative The Lord of the Rings, Narnia is child’s play. In the whole film there is next to no graphic violence at all. In fact, the only blood shown is when one character cuts his hand. But let’s remember, this is a family film. And even being such, the lack of graphic violence didn’t take away from the intensity of the action or the story. Unlike the first film, which ultimately felt a bit anticlimactic, this installment pushed the audience’s limits at pretty much every turn. The fight sequences were intense enough to be believed and the characters deep enough to be cared about. The combination made for an extremely enjoyable viewing experience.

The movie’s pacing should also be noted. While nearly everything in the first installment of Narnia felt rushed and crowded, the second installment clearly resolved this problem for the most part. Although the opening sequence involving the children did feel a bit hasty, the rest of the story unfolded with grace and clarity. A friend appropriately described it saying that they fully committed to nearly every sequence. No fight was rushed, no argument skimmed over, no dialogue irrationally assumed. They took their time on every opportunity and it paid off well.

The visual effects in this installment were stellar. One particular sequence involving a water creature stands out as possibly being the best visual effects I have ever seen to date. The music score was also excellent. It never distracted from the movie; in fact, I rarely explicitly noticed it at all.

While it seems that much of the movie stayed true to the book, there are a number of events in the movie which I know for sure were added; likely for commercial appeal. Those who have read the book will probably grumble at them because the additions added little and often threatened what was already there; one quite notably so. I agree that the additions were frivolous and ultimately useless, but let’s remember, Disney and Walden aren’t trying to make disciples here, they’re trying to make money. Once again, this installment also closed with an extremely poor choice in soundtrack. However, the error is easily forgiven, and who can blame them for wanting to sell a few extra copies of the soundtrack album?

One thing that should be noted and praised in this movie adaptation is that glory in this movie is not relinquished to our heroes. They are consistently shown to be failures and incapable of fighting the fight before them. The glory is consistently shifted to Aslan; no doubt Lewis’ original intention.

From an entertainment standpoint, I highly enjoyed this installment; much more than the first one—for sure. But on a personal level, there were many nuggets of C.S. Lewis insight for us to consider. But I don’t want to say too much. For me personally, even some prospects that challenge my own heart and mind when evaluating myself and my desires. One such occasion, Peter has run valiantly into a noble and stubborn fight which he cannot win; in the midst of his stubbornness, Susan rebukes him saying:

“Who are you fighting this for?” Good question, Susan.