c.s. lewis puts my life into words...

“I became aware that I was holding something at bay, or shutting something out. Or, if you like, that I was wearing some stiff clothing, like corsets, or even a suite of armor, as if I were a lobster. I felt myself being, there and then, given a free choice. I could open the door or keep it shut; I could unbuckle the armor or keep it in. Neither choice was presented as a duty; no threat or promise was attached to either, though I knew that to open the door or to take off the corslet meant the incalculable…”

“I felt as if I were a man of snow at long last beginning to melt. The melting was starting in my back—drip-drip and presently trickle-trickle. I rather disliked the feeling…”

“Remember, I had always wanted, above all things, not to be ‘interfered with.” I had wanted (mad wish) ‘to call my soul my own.’ I had been far more anxious to avoid suffering than to achieve delight. I had always aimed at limited liabilities. The supernatural itself had been to me, first, and illicit dram, and then, as by a drunkard’s reaction, nauseous. Even my recent attempt to live my philosophy had secretly (I now knew) been hedged round by all sorts of reservations…the demand was not even “all or nothing.” I think that stage had been passed, on the bus top when I unbuckled my armor and the snowman started to melt. Now, the demand was simply “all.”

"You must picture me alone in that room in Magdalen, night after night, feeling, whenever my mind lifted even for a second from my work, the steady, unrelenting approach of Him whom I so earnestly desired not to meet. That which I greatly feared had at last come upon me.”

“I did not see then what is now the most shining and obvious thing; the Divine humility which will accept a convert even on such terms. The Prodigal Son at least walked home on his own feet. But who can duly adore that Love which will open the high gates to a prodigal who is brought in kicking, struggling, resentful, and darting his eyes in every direction for a chance of escape? The words compelle intrare, compel them to come in, have been so abused by wicked men that we shudder at them; but, properly understood, they plumb the depth of the Divine mercy. The hardness of God is kinder than the softness of men, and His compulsion is our liberation."


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Yesterday, I shouted out to the sea the most heartfelt and humbling prayer. Yesterday, I became “the most dejected and reluctant convert” as well. [ Wednesday, March 17, 2004 ]



I always had this spectacular vision of my conversion. that it would happen, magically, with horns and trumpets--even in the metaphorical sense, even just in my head. that it would come with a note of finality, of resolution, of “okay, these last six years led up to this. THIS is what I have been working so hard to achieve...here it is.” and finally, with the help of many chaps, I had to admit that I was stalling...I knew of no other reason for unbelief, except for the single fact that belief in times of such emptiness and turmoil would remove any feelings of ‘resolution,’ utterly and completely. I finally realized that this process would consist of a quiet recognition of something I have long suspected to be true and a new attitude that views my current and continuing battles in light of that acknowledgement. no sense of finality, no sigh of relief.

but that's okay. I was a bit uncertain as to whether or not I’d write about this…b/c I didn’t know what to make of that lack of peace…my story felt a bit incomplete. but I’m okay with it now. reading on in c.s. lewis… “I had hoped that the heart of reality might be of such a kind that we can best symbolize it as a place; instead, I found it to be a Person.” oh, what have done? where I have gone? who have I turned to? it scares me. i've put a drop in the lake that, in time, will create life-changing ripples. it's exciting. it's frightening. and yet, i don’t know how i feel now. times like these call for a reaction that is greater than emotions.


so what do I do now..


I ask for forgiveness. I have failed too many times to count. and it hurts me to hurt Him. that I have acted so cowardly in the face of doubt…that I have allowed my fears to overcome my senses… that in times of uncertainty, I have forgotten just how much God has pursued me…that I am still so inadequate for the task at hand… that I know I will disappoint him again…how do I even begin to apologize?

I ask for courage. I fear the silence that is following this conversion. I fear I am lacking. I fear failure. and these fears are paralyzing. I need the faith to persevere, in spite of silence, in spite of everything. I need the faith of shadrach, meshach and abednego in the midst of a blazing furnace. oh, i cant do this alone. I ask for courage. For here in front of me is a door, behind which people say the secret of the universe is waiting for me. I must open the door, close it shut behind me, and walk on.


I trudge on, I lose sleep, I wait on an invisible love, I fight the overwhelming feelings of frustration and emptiness--now all in faith that God will show himself faithful, now all in trust that God knows what he's doing, now all in confidence that these trials are making me stronger, forcing me grow and preparing me for the upcoming journey. because i got a long road ahead of me. “It must be understood that the conversion...was only to Theism, pure and simple, not to Christianity. I knew nothing yet about the Incarnation. The God to whom I surrendered was sheerly nonhuman...my conversion involved as yet no belief in a future life” (c.s. lewis, surprised by joy) In fact, there are so many concepts that my fledgling of a belief lacks that I fear I will not survive the winds...but I will try. I've failed many times before, but even when disappointment was inevitable, God still pursued me. so here I go, fully aware that I will fail again, knowing that I will fall flat on my face again, and knowing that He will pick me up and put me on my feet, and push me towards the goal as many times as it takes for me to learn how to walk the walk. so

I give thanks. I have to admit that in times of weakness, I let my doubts creep up on me and I question whether or not I have ever experienced God’s love. and I’ve spent so much bloody time trying to answer that question. but I’m trashing it all together. I don’t care if I cant pinpoint some incident in the past where I was certain that I felt god’s love. what a foolish objective. all I know is that I have finally understood the beauty of mercy and the beauty of undeserved grace and the perfection of His will. and in the presence of such a god, I cant help myself and I begin to praise a god I barely know. what can I do but give thanks?

I know I am not there yet…but I know where I am headed. like most everything in life, it’s the journey that breaks us and softens us and shapes us and changes us. I need to be changed, I need to be softened and shaped, I need to be broken again and again. but the destination is in sight, so it's only a matter of patience. for that day, my soul waits. oh, my soul waits.

Aliud est de silvesti cacumine videre patriam pacis...et aliud tenere viam illuc ducentem. St. Augustine, Confessions VII, xxi.


for it is one thing to see the land of peace from a wooded ridge…and another to tread the road that leads to it.