Stepping Out

have recently become quite absorbed in the writings of C. S. Lewis. In his 1955 book “Surprised by Joy” Lewis traced the course of his early life from original seeds of Christianity, through extreme intellectualism, into atheism, then resoundingly back to Christianity again. Thank God that average humans with tiny brains, like mine, will never have to go through such torturous mental gymnastics as Lewis did. But the light at the end of the tunnel through which Lewis traveled must have been every bit as bright as the light which struck down Saul of Taursus on the road to Damascus. Both of these men were so moved by their conversions that they devoted the rest of their lives to the sacred duty of spreading the word of God to others, each in his own unique style. And, I might add, without ever darkening the doors of a denomi- national seminary; or so I presume. In “Surprised by Joy” Lewis emphasized a couple of dreams and mental images from his early childhood which kept recurring. These images served to create a longing in the young man’s soul for higher spiritual virtues. Their common object was a state Lewis described as “Joy.” It was only after his final conversion that the author could look back on his perpetually frustrated quest for joy as an object to be desired, and realize that joy is a state which can only be shared with its source; the true life which is in God almighty. To quote this world-renowned author “Christ is the Son of God. If we share in this kind of life we shall also be sons of God. We shall love the Father as He does, and the Holy Ghost will arise in us. He came to this world and became a man in order to spread to other men the kind of life He has by what I call “good infection.” Every Christian is to become a little Christ. The whole purpose of becoming a Christian is simply nothing else.” —Mere Christianity. C.S. Lewis, 1943, p. 154. In reading this work by C. S. Lewis, I was moved to remember two similar images from my distant childhood. One was a dream I would often have as a young boy. I strain in futility to remember my ages at which this dream repeat- edly afflicted me, but it was quite early on. The dream began with me climbing a large tree in our front yard. It was always the same tree, and I always reached the very top.. .before I fell. Once I fell, the tree disappeared, and I was simply falling through space; for a very long time. Much longer than it would take to reach the ground from the top of any real tree. The same fright would surge through me every time I fell, combined with a feeling of total helplessness. I would always awaken in a cold sweat, without ever hitting the ground. The second image was a powerful feeling that came over me the first time I approached the communion rail at church after my confirmation (I was an Episcopalian by my mother’s orders) at age thirteen, or thereabouts. I had been through all the rituals and had memorized all the responses like a good boy should, but there was absolutely no meaning or insight behind it for me at the time; nor for the next thirty years or so of my life. But every time I knelt at Christ’s table to receive the sacraments of His body and blood, EVERY TIME (and I have been to church a lot in my life) a tear would form in my eye and I would plead in silence, “Lord, make me worthy!” Total inadequacy and total undeservedness. I didn’t know why, but I felt it, and it was overwhelming. As I turned from the rail after taking communion and walked away, the feeling always disappeared. Much like I always woke up from my recurring dream before hitting the ground. I had somehow left the Lord’s presence unaffected, and I didn’t feel unworthy any more. In fact, there was usually an afternoon ball game or round of golf to look forward to where I could start to feel at least somewhat adequate again. I had escaped unharmed! As a young man I always seemed to feel better when I reentered the material world than I felt when I was in the subconscious world (in the case of my dream) or in the spiritual world (in the case of my holy communion experience). What I failed to realize until my conversion was completed was that God was telling me two things. First, I may have been falling in my dream, and I may have been scared out of my mind; but God would never let me get hurt, much less physically destroyed. It was like God was playing a game of chess with me and had simply taken my first pawn; a seem- ingly insignificant move at the time, but a profoundly impor- tant event in terms of the final outcome of the game. Secondly, a bit later on, I may have felt unworthy to partake of the body and blood of Christ, for whatever unknown reason, when in reality God was simply taking my first knight. My first castle fell when God assured me that it was okay to feel unworthy of Him as a child, because I hadn’t been cleansed yet. He agreed to let me return to my earthly life of fun and games for the time being, secure in the knowl- edge that He would get around to cleansing me when He deemed the time to be right. Needless to say, at age thirteen, I was totally unaware that I only had one bishop left as well. I spent the next thirty years of my life playing a strategic game of defensive chess without being aware of what was going on. I have already described to you in chapter six how I lost my queen and soon thereafter entered a perpetual state of checkmate. At that point, God could break out the Lysol... I am still in the tub!