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JUSTTHINKINGTHE MAGAZINE OF RAVI ZACHARIAS INTERNATIONAL MINISTRIES

Threads of aRedeemed Heart

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A TREATY WITH REALITYPAGE 22

TO HEAR THE HORNS OF ELFLANDPAGE 26

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JUST THINKING • The Quarterly Magazine of RAVI ZACHARIAS INTERNATIONAL MINISTRIES

TABLE of CONTENTSVOLUME 21.4

Threads of a Redeemed Heart

Ravi Zacharias asserts that the fundamental difference between anaturalist worldview and a religiousworldview is the moral framework.While a naturalist may choose to bea moral person, no compelling rationalreason exists why one should not beamoral. And yet, the Christian faithreminds us that our fundamentalproblem is not moral; rather, it isspiritual.

Rebels Without A Pause

Stuart McAllister shows how theconcept of rebellion has taken hold in cultures throughout the West. However, our very freedoms contribute to much of our miseries,and the endless call for greater liberation sounds like the weary cry of a jaded and fatigued culture.

A Treaty with Reality

Whether filing our taxes, writing aresearch paper, or following up withthe doctor, we often try to avoid aslong as possible what we don’t wantto do or to think about. Yet DanielleDuRant wonders, if the truth willset us free, why do we seek toevade it?

To Hear the Horns of Elfland

When Alex Renton’s six-year-olddaughter asked her parents to send the letter she penned to God,Renton had to stop to consider all the possibilities. Renton is an atheist,and what was at stake was an issue ofimagination. Jill Carattini observesthat Renton’s dilemma is one withwhich C.S. Lewis the atheistwouldhave deeply resonated.

Think Again

Too often we shun boundaries becausewe feel impeded or we’re afraid theywill deprive us of what we think wereally want, says Ravi Zacharias.The Christian message is a reminderthat our true malady is one thatmorality alone cannot solve. At itscore, the call of Jesus is a bountifulinvitation to trust and freedom tolive in the riches of that relationship.

[2] Just Thinking • RAVI ZACHARIAS INTERNATIONAL MINISTRIES

[ T h e G r a n dW e a v e r ]

Just Thinking • VOLUME 21.4 [3]

Threads of aRedeemed Heart

by Ravi Zacharias

One of the cardinal distinctions of the Judeo-Christian worldview versusother worldviews is that no amount ofmoral capacity can get us back into aright relationship with God. Herein liesthe difference between the moralizingreligions and Jesus’s offer to us. Jesusdoes not offer to make bad people

good but to make dead people alive.

[4] JUST THINKING • RAVI ZACHARIAS INTERNATIONAL MINISTRIES

Some years ago, I read an articlein an in-flight magazine on thesubject of ethics. It began with aprovocative story undoubtedlydesigned to instantly gain the

attention of the reader. It worked. Thewriter described a man aboard a planewho propositioned a woman sitting nextto him for one million dollars. She glaredat him but pursued the conversation andbegan to entertain the possibility of soeasily becoming a millionaire. The pairset the time, terms, and conditions. Justbefore he left the plane, he sputtered,“I—I have to admit, ma’am, I have sortof, ah, led you into a lie. I, um, I reallydon’t have a million dollars. Would youconsider the proposition for just—ah,say—ah, ten dollars?”

On the verge of smacking himacross the face for such an insult, shesnapped back, “What do you think I am?”

“That has already been established,”he replied. “Now we’re just haggling overthe price.”

I have to admit that when I read this little anecdote, I felt more disgustedwith the man who didthe propositioning than with the womanwho was propositioned. I sensed some-thing mean-spirited about the man whomade the offer. He obviously had set herup for the kill. It seemed like one ofthose manufactured stories where youstart with the endgame in view and movebackward to the start.

But as I reflected on the writer’sconclusion—namely, that everyone hashis or her price—I questioned theassumption. While we all may have aprice on some matters, I’m equally

certain that there are other matters onwhich no price is right and no sum ofmoney would cause one to budge. Woulda man who truly loved his wife or hisdaughters sell them for a certain price? I think the answer is an overwhelming“absolutely not!”

But then another thought enteredmy mind. What does one make of thecharge that God himself has set up ascheme in human relations where theentire game is fixed? Perhaps Adam andEve could not have resisted the wiles ofthe devil; perhaps sooner or later the fallwould have ensued. Isn’t this the way itsometimes appears? First, it is, “Don’tlook.” Then it is, “Don’t touch.” Atleast, that’s the way the skepticframes the scheme. One form ofdesire or another would soon findthe price match, and Adam or Eve would succumb.The garden may have changed,but the tantalizing trade-offs continue as we barter away our souls. This dreadful moral

conflict rages withincultures andcommunitiesand withineach human

heart. What is this moralplan about anyway? How does Goddemand moral rectitude in the pattern he is weaving for you and me in the vastdesign of the universe, when it seems both impossible and artificial?

THE SYSTEMIC DIFFERENCEThe fundamental difference between anaturalist worldview and a religiousworldview is the moral framework. While

Taken from The Grand Weaver: How God Shapes Us Through the Events of Our Lives byRAVI ZACHARIAS. Copyright © 2007 by Ravi Zacharias. Used by permission ofThe Zondervan Corporation.

JUST THINKING • VOLUME 21.4 [5]

a naturalist may choose to be a moral per-son, no compelling rational reason existswhy one should not be amoral. Reasonsimply does not dictate here. Pragmatismmay, but reason alone doesn’t allow one todefend one way over another. ProminentCanadian atheist Kai Nielson said it well:

We have not been able to show thatreason requires the moral point ofview, or that really rational personsunhoodwinked by myth or ideologyneed not be individual egoists or clas-sical amoralists. Reason doesn’t decidehere. The picture I have painted foryou is not a pleasant one. Reflectionon it depresses me. . . . Pure practicalreason, even with a good knowledge ofthe facts, will not take you to morality.1

Bertrand Russell admitted that hecould not live as though ethical valueswere simply amatter of personaltaste. That’s whyhe found his ownviews incredible.“I do not knowthe solution,” he concluded.2 FrederickNietzsche also said as much: “I, too, haveto end up worshipping at the altar whereGod’s name is truth.”3While we cannotescape the moral “stranglehold” ourmoral bent puts us into, neither can naturalism explain either the inclinationtoward morality or the conclusion.

So extreme a problem has this created for the naturalist that some havegone to great lengths to deduce even thatthere is no such thing as good or evil; allof us merely dance to our DNA. This sitsvery comfortably with them until theyirresistibly raise the question of all the“evil” that religion has engendered.

The debate gains rational groundsin the realm of religion, which is why it iscritical to understand the similarities andfoundational differences between various

religions. In every religion except Christ-ianity, morality is a means of attainment.

In Hinduism, for example, everybirth is considered a rebirth, and everyrebirth is a means to pay for the previouslife’s shortcomings. To make up for thisobvious debit-and-credit approach,Hinduism established the caste system to justify its fatalistic belief. Karma is systemic to the Hindu belief. You cannotbe a Hindu and dismiss the reality of karma.

In Buddhism, while every birth is arebirth, the intrinsic payback is imper-sonal because Buddhism has no essentialself that exists or survives. Life is a forcecarried forward through reincarnations,and the day you learn there is no essentialself and you quit desiring anything is theday that evil dies and suffering ends foryou. The extinguishing of self and desirethrough a moral walk brings the ultimatevictory over your imaginary individuality

and yoursuffering.Karma isintrinsic toBuddhismas well, but

there is a different doctrine of self atwork. While in Hinduism every birth is arebirth, in Buddhism every birth is arebirth of an impersonal karma. Only thebest of Buddhist scholars are even quali-fied to discuss these very intricate ideas.

In Islam, the system of tithing, thetax system, the way women are clothed—all the way to the legal structure and theultimate punishment reserved for apostasy—express the moral framework in whichthis religion operates. Even then, heavenis not assured (which, ironically, is sensuousin its experience). Only Allah makes thedecision about whether an individual getsrewarded with heaven.

In the early days of Israel’s formation,moral imperatives extended to everydetail of life. Hundreds of laws coveredeverything from morals to diet to ceremony.

In every religion except Christianity,morality is a means of attainment.

“Who gives whom the right to pronounce the other evil?” I haveheard this question countless times. The very word “morality” hasbecome a lightning-rod theme. “Who is to say what is good? Howaudacious that anyone should lay claim to an absolute!” This liesat the core of our entire moral predicament.


In short, while moral rectitude dif-fers in its details, it is, nevertheless, a factorin determining future blessing or retribu-tion. For the most part, both theistic andpantheistic religions conveyed that idea.

But for the later Hebrews and, inturn, the Christians, two realities make a crucial systemic and distinguishing difference. First and foremost, God is theauthor of moral boundaries, not man andnot culture. Here, Islam and Judaism finda little common ground, at least as thebasis. But there the superficial similaritiesend because the two differ drastically onthe very possibility of ascribing attributesto God, the idea of fellowship with God,the entailments of violating his law, andthe prescription for restoration. God isso transcendent in Islam that any analogi-cal reference to him in human terms runsthe risk of blasphemy.

The book of Genesis, on the otherhand, shows God in close fellowship withhis human creation. It also gives numer-ous possibilities to the first creation, withjust one restriction: no eating of the fruitfrom the tree of the knowledge of goodand evil. When Adam and Eve violatedthat restriction, the second injunctiontook effect: they were not to eat the fruitfrom the tree of life. When you lookcarefully at those two boundaries, onefollowing the other, you understand whatis going on. Eating the fruit from the treeof the knowledge of good and evil basi-cally gave humanity the power to redefineeverything. God had given language,identification, and reality to humankind.He imparted to humans the power to

name the animals. But essential to thecreated order was a moral frameworkthat the creation was not to name ordefine. This was the prerogative of theCreator, not of the creation. I believethat this is what is at stake here.

Does mankind have a right to definewhat is good and what is evil? Have younever heard this refrain in culture afterculture: “What right does any culturehave to dictate to another culture what isgood?” Embedded in that charge is alwaysanother charge: “The evil things thathave happened in your culture deny youthe prerogative to dictate to anyone else.”

Anyone living at the time and oldenough to recall will never forget the

outrage of some members of the mediawhen President Ronald Reagandenounced the Soviet Union as an “evilempire,” or when President GeorgeW. Bush branded three nations as form-ing an “axis of evil.” Ayatollah Khomeiniof Iran, in the meantime, remained wellwithin his own comfort zone when he pronounced the United States as a“satanic power,” according to the samemembers of the media.

Such moralizing goes on, alwayswith the same bottom line: “Who giveswhom the right to pronounce the otherevil?” I have heard this question countlesstimes. The very word “morality” hasbecome a lightning-rod theme. “Who isto say what is good? How audacious thatanyone should lay claim to an absolute!”This lies at the core of our entire moralpredicament, and it is truly fascinating,


isn’t it? But we find an interesting twisthere, because this selective denial ofabsolutes in morality does not carry overinto the sciences.

THE CONTRADICTORYAPPROACHESIn his book Glimpsing the Face of God,Alister McGrath points out an obvioustruth that most miss.4He uses the illus-tration of chemical formulas. Every mole-cule of water has two atoms of hydrogenand one atom of oxygen. The formulaH2O remains true, no matter what raceof people or what gender analyzes it. Canone really say, “It’s not fair to oxygen thatthere are two atoms of hydrogen inwater; so to be fair, there should be twoatoms of oxygen as well”? You can givetwo atoms of oxygen, if you want to—butif you drink it, it will bleach your insides(if not worse), because that would make ithydrogen peroxide and not water.Naming and actual reality have a directconnection in physics, even as they do inmorality and in metaphysics.

So the question arises, Why do wereadily accept the restrictive absolutes ofchemical structures but refuse to carrythese absolutes into our moral frame-work? The answer is obvious: we simplydo not want anyone else to dictate ourmoral sensitivities; we wish to definethem ourselves. This is at the heart of ourrejecting of God’s first injunction. It hasvery little to do with the tree and every-thing to do with the seed of our rebellion,namely, autonomy. We wish to be a lawunto ourselves.

Of course, we also wish to have control over the tree of life. We desireperpetual and autonomous existence—ineffect, wanting to play God. Even thoughwe did not author creation, we wish toauthor morality and take the reins of life.Combine the two attitudes, and it boilsdown to this: we want to live forever onour own terms.

In the first chapter of this book, Ireferred to the address I delivered at aprestigious university on the subject“What Does It Mean to Be Human?” Aprofessor of medical ethics from anotheruniversity had the next presentation. It didn’t take long to sense that we werepoles apart in our starting point. After listening to her views (neither medical norethical, it seemed to me, but rather justmoral autonomy masquerading as science),she paid me the ultimate compliment. Shesaid, “I have never met anybody withwhom I have disagreed more.” So I choseto agree with her on that point.

During the question and answertime that followed, a few things emerged.The first was her confident but naiveoptimism that, with all the tools in ourhands, we could shape our future ingenetics and engineer whatever we wantto. She spoke in very altruistic termsabout everything from the elimination ofdisease to the utilization of humancloning. Her arrogance, pathetic in itsignorance, added insult to injury whenshe gave not one whit of objective basisfor what her ethical standards would bewith regard to all of this.

When the organizers opened thefloor to questions, one woman stood andsaid to me, “I was very offended by yourcomment that the heart of humanity isevil.” Between the professor, who placedthe power to live or die in human hands,and the questioner, who denied thedepravity of the human heart, we had thegarden of Eden in front of our eyes allover again. In Adam and Eve’s defense,they, at least, felt ashamed after they hadmade the wrong choice. By contrast, ourbrilliant contemporaries have a chest-out, clenched-fist audacity and thinkthat by shouting louder their argumentsbecome truer.

I recall that Malcolm Muggeridgeonce said that human depravity is at oncethe most empirically verifiable fact yet


most staunchly resisted datum by ourintellectuals. For them, H2O as the formula for water is indisputable; but inethics, man is still the measure—withoutstating which man. This is the fundamen-tal difference between a transcendentworldview and a humanistic one.

But the question arises as to whatmakes the Christian framework unique.Here we see the second cardinal differencebetween the Judeo-Christian worldviewand the others. It is simply this: noamount of moral capacity can get us back into a right relationship with God.

The Christian faith, simply stated,reminds us that our fundamental prob-lem is not moral; rather, our fundamentalproblem is spiritual. It is not just that weare immoral, but that a moral life alonecannot bridge what separates us fromGod. Herein lies the cardinal differencebetween the moralizing religions andJesus’ offer to us. Jesus does not offer tomake bad people good but to make deadpeople alive.

WORLDVIEWS APARTA brief glance at the basis of the laws thathave come down to us through religioushistory gives us a clue. The Code ofHammurabi, originating in EasternMesopotamia, is one of the oldest legalcodes we have, dating back to about 2500BC. In addition to the preamble and theepilogue, it contains 282 prescriptions forconduct dealing with a wide range of situ-ations. The last of the codes reads as fol-lows: “If a slave say to his master, ‘I amnot your slave,’ if they convict him, hismaster shall cut off his ear.”

About a thousand years after thiscame the Laws of Manu, considered anarm of Vedic teaching. This codebookbegins by telling us how ten sages went tothe teacher Manu and asked him whatlaws should govern the four castes. Theresponse came in 2,684 verses coveringseveral chapters.

A few centuries later emerged theteachings of the Buddha, who rejectedthe caste system and built his prescriptionfor conduct on “the four noble truths”:

1. the fact of suffering2. the cause of suffering3. the cessation of suffering4. the eightfold path that can end suffering

About a millennium later cameMuhammad in the sixth century afterChrist. His instructions came in the “fivepillars [or injunctions]” of Islam: the Creed;the Prayers; the Tithe; the Fast; and thePilgrimage (some add Jihad as the sixth).All of these are prescribed in specificways. The injunctions address everydetail imaginable. The Hadith (a narrativerecord of the sayings and traditions ofMuhammad) became the basis of thepractices and customs of all Muslims.

Approximately fourteen centuriesbefore Christ (scholars debate theexact date), the Hebrew people

received the Ten Commandments. Anextraordinary first line gives the basis ofthe Ten Laws: “I am the LORD yourGod, who brought you out of Egypt, outof the land of slavery. You shall have noother gods before me” (Exodus 20:2 – 3).

To miss this preamble is to miss the entire content of the Mosaic law. Itprovides the clue to each of the systemsof law that have emerged through time.Here the Hebrew-Christian worldviewstands distinct and definitively different.Redemption precedes morality, and notthe other way around. While every morallaw ever given to humanity provides aset of rules to abide by in order to avoidpunishment or some other retribution,the moral law in the Bible hangs on theredemption of humanity provided by God.

Something else emerges with starkdifference. If you notice, the moral law inthe other legal codes separates people


(the Laws of Manu, the caste system, theCode of Hammurabi with the slave/owner distinction). In Islam, the violatoris inferior to the obedient one. By con-trast, in the Hebrew-Christian tradition,the law unifies people. No one is maderighteous before God by keeping the law.It is only following redemption that wecan truly understand the moral law forwhat it is—a mirror that indicts and callsthe heart to seek God’s help. This makesmoral reasoning the fruit of spiritualunderstanding and not the cause of it.

The first four of the Ten Command-ments have to do with our worship ofGod, while the next six deal with ourresulting responsibilities to our fellowhuman beings. These commandmentsbase a moral imperative on our spiritualcommitment, first toward God and second toward humanity. This logic isunbreakable. We see the various compo-nents come into place—the exclusivityand supremacy of one God; the sacrednessof his very name; the entanglement ofmeans as they become ends in themselves;the sanctity of time as God gives it to us.

Taken in a single dimension, the Ten Commandments show us the tran-scending reality of God’s existence andhis distance from us. We cannot truly livewithout understanding this distance andwho God is. Within this framework welearn that God blesses and judges, thathis judgments can last generations fromthe deed, that his love deserves our ulti-

mate pursuit, that worship is both timelyand timeless. The human condition inand of itself cannot touch this reality. Any life that does not see its need forredemption will not understand the truthabout morality.

A UNIVERSE FRAMEDWhen you look at the first book of theBible, you begin to see very quickly whatGod meant when he pronounced his creation “good.” God intended to createsomething good so that his creationwould display his very creative power andhis communion goal. Those twin realitiesframed the universe.

Human beings are born creators.They fashion their tools, discover newways of doing things, find shortcuts, andrevel in their new inventions. This geniusreflects the very character of God andthe capacity imbued by him to humanity.But here one also comes up against a serious challenge. Do boundaries have tobe drawn, and do man’s goals have to fitwithin those boundaries?

Recently, while sitting in the depar-ture area of an airport, I read an adver-tisement that boasted, “No boundaries:Just possibilities.” A tantalizing thoughtindeed. Are there really no boundaries toanything? If no boundaries exist for me,does it follow that no boundaries exist foreveryone else? The most fascinating thingabout the created order is that God setbut one stipulation for humanity. Once

The question arises as to what makes the Christianframework unique. Here we see the second cardinal difference between the Judeo-Christian worldview andthe others. It is simply this: no amount of moral capacitycan get us back into a right relationship with God. The Christian faith, simply stated, reminds us that ourfundamental problem is not moral; rather, our fundamentalproblem is spiritual.


In this story, we see all the elements of the human fall and thepower of a redeemed heart. Morality alone would dictate thathe gets what he deserves. A redeemed heart says, “Let me bind hiswounds because what needs attention is his soul.” Moralityalone says, “There is nothing reasonable in the man’s request.” Theredeemed heart says, “The reason by which we live is the heart ofmercy that does not keep a ledger.”

humanity violated that single rule andtook charge, however, hundreds of lawshad to be passed, because each injunctioncould die the death of a thousand qualifi-cations through constant exceptions tothe rule.

The bane of my life is flying. I haveto get on a plane at least two or threetimes a week. The wordiness of what weare not allowed to do while on boardalways intrigues me. The passenger hearsthat to tamper with, disable, or destroythe smoke detector in the bathroom ofan airplane is a criminal offense. Butcould someone really destroy or disable itwithout tampering with it? The answer isyes, if it could be done without touchingthe device. But then again, the whole ideaof tampering with the smoke detectorreally deals with its effectiveness indetecting smoke, doesn’t it? Ah, but that’swhere we get into technicalities in a courtof law. This manipulation of wording andmorality lies at the core of all autonomy.The moral law will always stand over andabove and against a heart that seeks to beits own guide.

One of my colleagues in ministryrecently told me of a visit he had made toa mutual friend in Cape Town, SouthAfrica. As they were enjoying the eveningtogether, they heard a huge crash. It tookthem a few moments to locate itssource, and when they went outside,they saw in the front of their driveway acar that had been literally smashed offits undercarriage. Someone hurtlingalong at a high rate of speed had missed

a turn and had run headlong into theparked car. The driver, however, hadmanaged to speed off.

My friends noticed a huge puddle ofwater at the scene and deduced that thefleeing culprit must have damaged hisradiator and could not have gone far. Sothey jumped into their car and drove ahundred yards to a street corner. As theyrounded the corner, they saw a steamingvehicle on the side of the road, with twoteenagers standing alongside, lookingshaken and bewildered and at a loss forwhat to do. It turned out that they hadtaken their dad’s brand-new, high-pricedvehicle without his knowledge. My friendPeter, a very successful businessman, aswell as a very tenderhearted follower ofJesus Christ, pulled over next to theyoung men.

Seeing them so shaken, Peter said,“May I pray with you and ask God tocomfort you and see you through thisordeal?” The young men looked rathersurprised but nodded their heads. Peterput his hands on their shoulders andprayed for them. No sooner had Petersaid his “Amen” than one of the young fel-lows said, “If God loves me, why did helet this happen to me?”

Imagine the series of duplicitousacts that preceded that question, and yousee the human heart for what it is. DidGod set this boy up, or did the boy setGod up? You see, when you understandthat God determines the moral frame-work and that any violation of it is tousurp God, you learn that it is not God


who has stacked the deck; the issue is ourown desire to take God’s place.

WHAT PLACE, THEN, FOR MORALITY?While at a conference in another country,I was approached by a young woman,who asked if she could talk to me private-ly. Once we found a couple of chairs andsat down to talk, I learned that she wasmiles away from the land of her birth andhad lived through some horrendous expe-riences. She had a beautiful mother, buther father, as she worded it, did not havethe same admirable looks. Through anarranged marriage, they had begun theirlives together, but the father always resentedhis wife’s looks and the many complimentsgiven to her, while none ever came hisway. His distorted thinking took himbeyond jealousy to fears that some manmight lure her away, and so he made hisplan to snuff out any such possibility. Oneday, he returned home, and while talkingto his wife in their bedroom, he reachedinto his bag, grabbed a bottle of acid, andflung the contents into her face. In oneinstant, he turned his wife’s face frombeautiful to horrendously scarred. Hethen turned and fled from the house.

At the point of our conversation,two decades had gone by since motherand daughter had last seen him. Theyoung woman, now in her twenties, hadbeen a little girl when this tragic eventtook place, and yet the bitterness in herheart remained as fresh as the day shesaw her mother’s face turned from beautyto ugliness—so hideou little one to cover her own face so shewouldn’t have to see what had been done.

But the story did not end there. Justa few days before our conversation, themother, who had raised the family on herown, had heard from the husband whohad deserted her. He was dying of cancerand living alone. He wondered if shewould take him back and care for him inthis last stage of his illness. The audacious

plea outraged this young woman. But themother, a devout follower of Jesus Christ,pleaded with her children to let her takehim back and care for him as he preparedto die.

In this story, we see all the elementsof the human fall and the power of aredeemed heart. Morality alone woulddictate that he gets what he deserves. Aredeemed heart says, “Let me bind hiswounds because what needs attention ishis soul.” Morality alone says, “There isnothing reasonable in the man’s request.”The redeemed heart says, “The reason bywhich we live is the heart of mercy thatdoes not keep a ledger.” Morality says,“It’s all about whether you think it’s rightor not.” The redeemed heart says, “Whatwould God have me do in this situation?”Morality says, “Make your own judgments.”The redeemed heart says, “Don’t make ajudgment unless you are willing to bejudged by the same standard.” In short,morality is a double-edged sword. It cutsthe very one who wields it, even as itseeks to mangle the other.

I have often wondered if many whoname the name of Jesus have missed thistruth. I think, too, that in missing this,we miss the larger point often hidden inwhat appears to be the main point. Whenwe stand before God, it would not sur-prise me to find out that the real point ofthe story of the prodigal son was reallythe older brother; that the real point ofthe good Samaritan was the priest andthe Levite who went on their way; thatthe real point of the women arriving firstat the tomb was that the disciples hadn’t;that the real point of the story of Job wasthe moralizing friends. Those who playby the rules sometimes think that this isall there is to it and that they merit theirdue reward. Yet God repeatedly pointsout that without the redemption of theheart, all moralizing is hollow.

In the garden it was not we whowere set up but we who tried to set Godup by blaming him for the situation and


then wishing to redefine everything. Hadwe obeyed everything, we still would havelost if we had errantly concluded that wedeserved what the garden offered. What,then, of the moral law in the believer?

How does this work out in my ownlife? What place does the moral law have?The threads are many, the pattern complex—but the analysis is simple. Your moral framework is critical in therespect you show for yourself and yourfellow human beings. Think of it as thecoinage of your life and your day-to-dayliving. But this coinage has no value if it is not based on the riches of God’s planfor your spiritual well-being.

Morality is the fruit of your knowl-edge of God, conscious or otherwise. But it can never be the root of your claimbefore God. Morality can build pride aswell as philanthropy; true spirituality willnever submit to pride. Having said allthat, morality is still the ground fromwithin which the creative spirit of art andother disciplines may grow. But if theygrow to exaggerate who we are, then it ismorality for morality’s sake. If it sproutstoward heaven, it points others to God.

The moral law also serves as a pro-found reminder that in God there is nocontradiction. The moral law stands as aconsistent, contradiction-free expressionof God’s character. If I violate this law, Ibring contradiction into my own life, andmy life begins to fall apart. This is why ahumble spirit, as it honors God, realizeshow near and yet how far it is from God.

POINT OTHERS TO THESOURCEC. S. Lewis has a remarkable little illus-tration in his book The Screwtape Letters.The senior devil is coaching the youngerone on how to seduce a person whohangs between belief and disbelief in theEnemy (the Enemy here being God). Sothe younger one sets to work on keepingthis man from turning to God. But in the

end, after all the tricks and seductions,the individual is “lost to the Enemy.”When the defeated junior devil returns,the senior one laments and asks, “Howdid this happen? How did you let this oneget away?”

“I don’t know,” says the young imp.“But every morning he used to take along walk, just to be quiet and reflective.And then, every evening he would read agood book. Somehow during those booksand walks, the Enemy must have gottenhis voice through to him.”

“That’s where you made your mis-take,” says the veteran. “You should haveallowed him to take that walk purely forphysical exercise. You should have had himread that book just so he could quote itto others. In allowing him to enjoy purepleasures, you put him within theEnemy’s reach.”5

Lewis’s brilliant insight applies tomorality as well. Pure morality points youto the purest one of all. When impure, itpoints you to yourself. The purer yourhabits, the closer to God you will come.Moralizing from impure motives takesyou away from God.

Let all goodness draw you nearer,and let all goodness flow from you topoint others to the source of all goodness.God’s conditions in the garden of Edenwere not a setup, any more than thetemptation of Jesus in the wilderness wasa setup or that the long journey to Egyptwas a setup. God wants us to understandour own hearts, and nothing shows thismore than the stringent demands of a lawthat discloses we are not God — and neither had we better play God. Once weunderstand this and turn to him, we findout the truth of what the psalmist wrote:“To all perfection I see a limit, but [theLord’s] commands are boundless” (Psalm119:96). True fulfillment and the possibilityof boundless enjoyment come when wedo life God’s way. When we do it our way,we only enslave ourselves.


God wants us to understand our own hearts, and nothingshows this more than the stringent demands of a law thatdiscloses we are not God — and neither had we better playGod. Once we understand this and turn to him, we find outthe truth of what the psalmist wrote: “To all perfection I see a limit, but [the Lord’s] commands are boundless”(Psalm 119:96).

True love engenders a life that honors itscommitment. That is the role of obedi-ence to God’s moral precepts—puttinghands and feet to belief, embodying thenature of what one’s ultimate commit-ment reflects—the very character ofGod. Jesus said to let our lives so shinebefore people that they would glorifyGod as a result (see Matthew 5:16) — thisis the end result of a life that takes themoral commands seriously.

So how does one pull together thestrings in this whole business of morals?Whatever you do, whether it be at workor in marriage, through your language oryour ambitions, in your thoughts or yourintents, do all and think all to the glory ofGod (see 1 Corinthians 10:31) and by therules he has put in place — rules thatserve not to restrain us but to be themeans for us to soar with the purpose for which he has designed all choices.

Ravi Zacharias is Founder and Presidentof Ravi Zacharias InternationalMinistries.

1Kai Nielson, “Why Should I Be Moral?”American Philosophical Quarterly 21 (1984), 90.2Bertrand Russell, “A Letter to The Observer,”October 6, 1957.3Cited in Philip Novak, The Vision of Nietzsche(Rockport, Mass.: Element, 1996), 11.4 See Alister McGrath, Glimpsing the Face of God(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 39 – 40.

5 See C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters (1942;repr., New York: HarperCollins, 2001), 63 – 67.

Some time ago, I was speaking atthe University of South Queensland inAustralia. It was shortly after the deathof one of Australia’s great entertainers,Steve Irwin. I was answering the questionof whether there is meaning in sufferingand evil from the Christian worldview;flanking me were a Muslim scholar andthe local president of the HumanistAssociation. A question came from thefloor about Steve Irwin’s destiny. What didthese worldviews have to say about this?

The humanist’s answer was hollow,ignoring the issue of what happened afterdeath: “Nothing really, just to celebrate alife now gone.” That was it.

The Muslim said that Steve’s gooddeeds would be measured against his baddeeds. That was it — a balance in handwith weights. It really was a clever answerthat dodged the real question. So I askedhim, “Are you saying that all of his gooddeeds would usher him to paradise?” Hewas quite taken aback by my questionand stated that I was introducing a different issue. And so it is in his faith. In response, I noted that, based on theteachings of Jesus, morality was never ameans of salvation for anyone. The moralthreads of a life were intended to reflectand honor the God we served; they arenot a means of entering heaven.

Why does a man honor his vows?Why does a woman honor her vows? Is itto earn the love of their spouse, or is it todemonstrate the sacredness of their love?


Rebels Without a Pauseby Stuart McAllister

At this moment in our cultural history, the dominant images and icons are those positioned as “against.” Against what? Everything, it seems. Yet the notion of freedom is an issue that requires serious thinking.

[ s p i r i t u a ls u b v e r s i o n ]


The image is imprinted on allof our minds. He sits astride a motorcycle and dares anywho come to get in his way.The sleek young man, in his

early 20s, is clad in a black leather jacket,blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a white T-shirt. His hair is greased back with acigarette behind his ear, and he comeswith an attitude and a sneer on his lip.Meet the rebel.

Carrying hefty pounds of attitude,style, and image, he is a force to be reckoned with. Whether in the form ofMarlon Brando in On the Waterfront orJames Dean as the iconic figure in the1955 movie Rebel Without a Cause, the values and the vision of the rebel spreadlike wildfire in the culture and as some-thing uniquely American: the dream ofendless liberation. From Bill Haley andthe Comets who wanted to “rock aroundthe clock” to Elvis who insisted no onestep on his “blue suede shoes,” a newvision was born that took hold in theconsciousness of the West but has sincespread globally.

It began with the young and therestless and it had a message. All inheritedlife, all social structures, were seen as limiting or restricting. Parents, society,the school, the “Man,” they all stood forinhibition and holding people back fromreal life. It was not cool. Non-conformitybecame the new conformity and it wasaddictive. The age-old repressive struc-tures of obedience to parents, hard workat school, civility and honor in society,and marriage and family life were subjectto constant attack and exposure as agents of repression. These repressivestructures, beliefs, and values had tochange or go. Nothing, it was believed,should impede the free expression of theindividual in his or her quest for life.

I remember well the feelings I hadas a youth growing up in Scotland. My

father was part of the generation thatfought in World War II. His icons, whichhe shared with us, were Frank Sinatra,Matt Monroe, Dean Martin, PerryComo, and the Big Band sounds of GlennMiller. I grew up listening to this as whatI thought was our music, until a visitingcousin from South Africa introduced usto the new sounds of Simon andGarfunkel, then the Beatles, the RollingStones, and so it went.

As a teenager in the late 60s andearly 70s, I found myself, for many reasons, angry and wanting to be free. I found in the music, movies, and moodof my time, a language, a feeling, a rageagainst what was. I would sit in my roomand listen to Deep Purple in Rock andBlack Sabbath and feel the pulsatingrhythm of rage and power. I wanted to befree—and by “free” I meant free to dowhatever I wanted, wherever I wanted, inany way I wanted. I was working out anage-old rebellion from the beginning oftime. Of course, I did not know thatthen, but years later I could see meaningin what at the time was little more thanraging emotions.

My friends and I loved the rocksinger Alice Cooper and his song “School’sOut,” which climaxes in the chorus withthe cry “School’s been blown to pieces.”What kid did not want that? I neverstopped to question any of this. I nevergave it all much thought. I just knewinstinctively that non-conformity was thenew conformity. Somehow, in some way,so-called society conspired to createmorality and to impose controls on allthose who were duped by custom, whichthen led them to surrender to the rules.As part of the young and the restless, Iwas not going to submit or bow to therestrictions of others. I would resist, fight,struggle. I’d be a rebel without a pause. I took every opportunity to live this out,flaunting conventions, mocking those who


Western culture has made a fortune in the marketing of theconcept of the rebel. It has also paid a huge cost. The deepsense of meaninglessness that characterizes what historianPaul Johnson calls “modern times,” which is taught as thescience of life in our education system and often embraced inour arts, is having an untold effect in the lives of many.

followed the system, seeking my ownpleasure and desires as number one, allthe time feeling superior, above morality,not bound by the limits of lesser mortals.

MODERN TIMESMany years on, I note how Western culturehas made a fortune in the marketing ofthe concept of the rebel. It has also paid ahuge cost. The deep sense of meaning-lessness that characterizes what historianPaul Johnson calls “modern times,” whichis taught as the science of life in our edu-cation system and often embraced in ourarts, is having an untold effect in the livesof many. Albert Camus, himself a productof and witness to the modern era, studiedthe issue of the rebel in depth and wrote,“Rebellion is born of the spectacle of irra-tionality, confronted with an unjust andincomprehensible condition. But itsblind impulse is to demand order in themidst of chaos, and unity in the veryheart of the ephemeral.”

The rebels (who came in many formsand types) resisted inherited order. Theyrejected God or the gods; they resistedinherited values. They struggled for life ina world that seemed absurd and foundolder so-called “proven truths”1 as emptyand vacuous. Life was, for them, a journeyand a struggle for liberation in whicheach sought to find the truth that workedfor them in their generation. Each life,each individual became its own project ofself-definition and self-authentication.

What began as a fringe movementamongst thinkers, artists, and political

agitators, over time turned mainstream asbusiness execs and wise producers beganto see how much money could be made inmarketing this lifestyle and its products.Rebellion could make good business sense!

From the 70s onward, by constantexposure and ever new expressions of thequest for freedom, our cultural normwould be shaped by the notion of perma-nent rebellion. A good example is seen inthe movie world of cops and robbers, aswe were introduced to “Dirty Harry.” Hewas a California homicide detective(played by Clint Eastwood) who did notplay by the rules but who got the bad guyby any means possible, including torture.Many embraced this new image. If youcan’t get results by playing fair and yousee that the system is all corrupt anyway,then as Eastwood said, with his Magnum44 Justice, “A man’s gotta do what a man’sgotta do.”

The problem is that men doingwhat they gotta do is like a brokenrecord. Going back to Genesis and therebellion against God’s word in the gar-den (Genesis 3) and on to the building ofthe Tower of Babel (Genesis 11), the ideahas been “Let’s make a name for our-selves.” Rebellion, however, is portrayedas cool, hip, and liberating. It meansnever bowing to anything or anyoneother than the self, your desires, or yourown will. The power and attraction isseen in always having a cause and inalways fighting against the latest form ofinhibition or oppression. The rebel is theheroic icon of our time.


We are told constantly by experts and gifted authors that thereis no God. We are told that we are the result of matter inmotion, of random forces plus chance and necessity. We are toldthat there is no meaning in life and according to RichardDawkins, “We dance to our DNA.” Why then, do we notadapt? Why are we still rebelling?

degree). Starfleet Prime Directives areignored, and once again the “bad” goodguy does what it takes to overcome the“bad, bad guy” with the help of, for a limited time, the “good” bad guy. (This isKhan, the genetically enhanced humanwarrior unfrozen from his cryogenicsleep for military aims who is, in fact, thebad “bad guy.”)

These makeovers are now common.We take an older text, inject a healthydose of attitude, skepticism, sex, andwhatever shock factor counts. And Presto!We have the latest and trendy versionthat glorifies the rebel and heroic visionof rule breaking!

MORE OF THE SAMEAt this moment in our cultural history,the dominant images and icons are thosepositioned as “against.” Against what?Everything, it seems. Camus sheds lightfor us: “Metaphysical rebellion is themovement by which man protests againsthis condition and against the whole ofcreation. It is metaphysical because it contests the ends of man and of creation.”3

We are told constantly by experts andgifted authors that there is no God. Weare told that we are the result of matter inmotion, of random forces plus chance andnecessity. We are told that there is nomeaning in life and according to RichardDawkins, “We dance to our DNA.”

Why then, do we not adapt? Whyare we still rebelling? Instead of goingwith the flow and accepting what is as it

The English writer and journalistG.K. Chesterton understood the deepdestructive sense of what was being conveyed—and consequently damaged—by what was viewed in his time as modern.He wrote, “The modern world seems tohave no notion of preserving things side by side, of allowing its proper andproportionate place to each, of saving thewhole varied heritage of others. It has nonotion except that of simplifying some-thing by destroying nearly everything.”2

The new narrative was one that seemedto despise all that was older, to sneer atinherited wisdom, and to glory in thereplacement of the old with the new, no matter what the cost. This vision ofcreative destruction is one that took holdwith vigor.

Recently, we have been introducedto the re-envisioned Star Trek. Previously,it was Batman, Iron Man, and other earlier expressions of American folkmythologies that were revamped. InGene Roddenberry’s original utopianvision, the explorers of the future wereenvisioned (by him) as more civilized,honorable, and wise. They were thosewho would seek to do that which is right.Starfleet’s dream was a civilizing, educa-tional, and scientific mission that wouldopen up the galaxies “of strange newworlds and new civilizations.”

The “new” Captain Kirk and histeam, however, have had a good post-modern makeover. The character of Mr.Spock sheds his limiting logic (to some


The new life in Christ is the down payment of the Spirit, what C.S. Lewis called “the good infection.” The key to real freedom,the key to actual liberation, is found in the power of a new kind oflife imparted to the soul, which begins a journey of transformation.

is, humanity wrestles with grievances,feelings of injustice, a sense of injured fair-ness, loss, sorrow, anger, and a hunger forhappiness but an inability to quench it.

Something, it seems, is wrong andour answers are inadequate. If our veryfreedoms, expressed today so often ascarelessly and inconsiderately, contributeto much of our miseries, why do we con-tinue to assume that more of the same isan answer? The endless call for greaterliberation, more self-expression, moreroom for individual choice and actionsounds like the weary cry of a jaded andfatigued culture.

The notion of freedom is an issuethat we need to do some serious thinkingabout. I, as a teenager, was obsessed withthe notion of freedom, but I also knewnext to nothing about real life, or what ittook to have one and sustain one. It was avision of pure imagination that was fanta-sizing about unlimited free expression. Itwas childish in the extreme, as I genuinelybelieved that the goal of life was, or shouldbe, my own happiness, no matter at whatcost or in what way it was achieved.

What I have come to realize as anadult and now as a Christian is that whatwas my own internal and privatized visionand beliefs is now the mainstream cultur-al vision that many embrace as the normor goal of their life. It is unsustainableand leads to moral and spiritual anarchy.

In his insightful book on freedom,colleague Os Guinness cites several voicesfrom history. They should be heeded.

Romans 7:15-19

I do not understandwhat I do. For whatI want to do I do notdo, but what I hate Ido. And if I do whatI do not want to do, I agree that the lawis good. As it is, it isno longer I myselfwho do it, but it is sin living in me. For Iknow that good itselfdoes not dwell in me,that is, in my sinfulnature. For I havethe desire to do whatis good, but I cannotcarry it out. For I donot do the good Iwant to do, but theevil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.

Benjamin Franklin: “Nothing brings morepain than too much pleasure; nothingmore bondage than too much liberty.”James Madison: “Liberty may be endangeredby the abuses of liberty as well as the abusesof power.”Lord Moulton: “The greatness of a nation, itstrue civilization, is measured by the extentof its obedience to the unenforceable.”4

Freedom, for many, has become anend in itself. We fight against any and allrestrictions. We rail against any and alllimits and limitations. We fuss againstany and all inhibitions as all that matters.It is supposed that real life, real joy, realliving is found in the unlimited expres-sion of free will. In contrast to this is theChristian diagnosis of life: what is wrongis in me as well as around me, and I doindeed need freedom, but it is freedomspecifically defined and dependent onGod’s resources, not mine.

A WORKABLE STRUCTURE FOR LIFE Romans 7 provides one of the mostdescriptive insights into the struggles of amoral conscience with real evil and withthe desire to be free from tormentingweaknesses. Here we see a conflict betweena desire for the good but an inability todo it. The author sees the tension. Hewants one thing and does another becausehe lacks the power of change. Yet at theend of the chapter, he sees that deliver-ance and power can come in and throughChrist: “Who will rescue me from thisbody that is subject to death? Thanks be


to God, who delivers me through JesusChrist our Lord!” (verses 24-25).

The new life in Christ (John 1:4) isthe down payment of the Spirit(Ephesians 1:13-14), what C.S. Lewiscalled “the good infection.” The key toreal freedom, the key to actual liberation,is found in the power of a new kind oflife imparted to the soul, which begins ajourney of transformation.

When we repent of our independ-ence, when we seek the Living God, whenwe surrender to his kind of life, somethingnew begins in us. 2 Corinthians 5:17 speaksof becoming a new creation. Romans 12:1-2speaks of “presenting our bodies as livingsacrifices” and of being “transformed bythe renewing of our mind.” In thisprocess, and it is a process, we are not tobe “conformed to this world.” A principleof resistance is established. The power ofchange is imparted and the provision ofgrace calls us to a new way of doing life.This is indeed a good infection!

Dallas Willard and Don Simpsonwrite, “Spiritual formation for theChristian refers to the Holy Spirit-drivenprocess of forming the inner world of thehuman self in such a way that it becomeslike the inner being of Christ himself.”5

The Christian way is a call to another life,another way, another lifestyle. It lives andfunctions in contrast to, and as an alter-native to, what is paraded before us dailyby PR companies for the world and itsfashions, fads, and successes. In this newlife, we are rebels—but rebels with a cause!We participate in a spiritual resistancemovement.

It begins with a clear sense of ultimacy and authority. There is a God, a higher power—and it is not me.Surrender is, therefore, step one. Theacknowledgement and confession that“Jesus is Lord” is not merely a phrase Iemploy but a ruler to whom I must bow.By saying “Yes” to Jesus, I am saying “No” to many other things. Worship is

the starting point, for it shifts my focusfrom self, emotions, and needs to thatwhich is external and outer and to Onewho alone deserves worship. EugenePeterson reminds us that “Worship givesus a workable structure for life; worship nurtures our need to be in relationshipwith God; worship centers our attentionon the decisions of God.”

Our modern world claims that lifeis all about me. It invites us to indulge,consume, experience, and experiment.The Word of our King invites us to follow Him, to worship Him, to obey andserve. I well remember one young manwho came to the mission field to servewhile I was living in Austria. He had abackground in drugs and careless living.He had lived by the beach most of his lifeand had embraced what was peddledthere as the “good life.” In his early twen-ties, he had a crisis and came to knowChrist. However, as one old preacherused to say, “It is one thing to get thepeople of God out of Egypt and anotherto get Egypt out of them.”

This young man (I’ll call him Jim,not his real name) believed that now thathe was in “full time service” that meanthe could work less, take it easy, and notbe burdened by 9 AM to 6 PM schedules.The “rules” were for others, and as he sawthem, were legalism. He used his under-standing of freedom to imply that normaletiquette and rule-keeping did not applyto him unless he felt like it. Unknowingly,he was still a “rebel without a pause,”though now he sought a sanctified version.I wish I could write that it ended well forhim, but as far as I heard, it did not.

SPIRITUAL SUBVERSIONRebels with a cause, what does thatmean? In Matthew 6:33 Jesus commandsus to “Seek first the kingdom of God andhis righteousness.” Maybe it is a result ofaging or perhaps I have limited visionthese days, but I truly marvel at the way


our contemporary church seems soenamored with culture and relevance as a kind of fixation, even in the church.The latest, the newest, the best is in, andwe have a cadre of ready voices to beratethe existing church and conservativeChristianity for its many failings, irrele-vancies, and old fashioned views. Yet allthat twitters is not gold! In a sinceredesire to grow, some adjustment is neces-sary. However, many good, rich, and valu-able things are ignored simply becausethey are not new or fashionable. We bowto what C.S. Lewis calls “chronologicalsnobbery,” implying that only the mostup-to-date is valuable or relevant. Itshould be remembered that good thingsoften take time to nurture and don’talways yield to speed and taste.

Let me illustrate. When I became aChristian, knowing the Bible was consid-ered essential for a serious Christian life.I was encouraged to read, to attend Biblestudies, and to become conversant withthe main themes of scripture. I rememberas a young believer hearing a visitingspeaker explain about the Tabernacle inthe Old Testament. He not only shared onits beauty, purpose, materials, and aims,but also showed us how all of it connectedto Christ and how it was a kind of visualtheology pointing forward to what was tocome. My imagination was gripped andmy heart was stirred even as my mind wasstretched and renewed.

By contrast, in many recentencounters with what I’d call angry ordisappointed believers, when biblicaltruth was being discussed, I found myselfbesought by questions and doubts aboutGod that had little or no bearing onscripture or on what the Bible actuallytaught. The scripture itself seemed irrele-vant to the discussion; rather, it was morethe offense that an idea or a shockingconcept might even be there that wasreally the concern. The questioner, clear-ly emotionally stirred, had not taken the

time to explore what the scriptures actu-ally “say” but was debating intensely whatthey did not “mean.”

It seems that deconstruction, doubt,and debate are now ingrained habits andnothing can slide past the doors of skep-ticism that is not both appealing and crit-ically self-approved. This may not seemto be a problem if such involved seriousstudy and some measure of consultation,but in many cases it becomes just anotherexpression of self-definition, self-absorp-tion, and self-fulfillment. Conversely, arebel with a cause sees through thedeceits of culture, sees past the allure ofemotion, and sees beyond the limits ofthe immediate and self-gratification.

Eugene Peterson writes, “Christianconsciousness begins in the painful real-ization that what we had assumed wasthe truth is in fact a lie. It is an ‘aha’moment when we wake up. Prayer isimmediate: ‘Deliver me from the liars, God!They smile so sweetly but lie throughtheir teeth. Rescue me from the lies ofadvertisers who claim to know what I needand what I desire, from the lies of enter-tainers who promise a cheap way to joy,from the lies of politicians who pretendto instruct me in power and morality, fromthe lies of psychologists who offer toshape my behavior and my morals so thatI will live long, happily and successfully.’ ”6

The French pastor and ex-resistancefighter Jacques Ellul called Christians to“spiritual subversion.” It reminds me ofwhat Richard John Neuhaus proposed:that we be “in the world, not of the world,but for the world.” This is no easy taskand it invites us to a life of focused livingand of costly resistance. We do not with-draw from life or culture in such a waythat we remove ourselves from contact,engagement, connections, and ministry.We nurture and cultivate habits of theheart and committed community inorder to model and embody a true alter-native to our world’s ways and means.

1 Peter 5:8-10

Be alert and of sobermind. Your enemy thedevil prowls aroundlike a roaring lionlooking for someoneto devour. Resist him,standing firm in thefaith, because youknow that the familyof believers through-out the world isundergoing the samekind of sufferings.And the God of allgrace, who called youto his eternal glory in Christ, after youhave suffered a littlewhile, will himselfrestore you and makeyou strong, firm andsteadfast.


Camus asks, “Is it possible to find a rule of conduct outside the realm ofreligion and its absolute values? That isthe question raised by rebellion.”7Many a young person has struggled with the lifeand lifestyle encouraged by their parentsand church, only to reject it in an act offrustration and in pursuit of freedom. Asmany discover, we reject one structurefor another, one code of conduct foranother, one set of limits and limitationsfor another. Not all roads claiming to leadto freedom actually go there.

Perhaps instead of privileging ourdoubts and deconstructing our faith, weshould consider privileging our faith anddeconstructing our doubts? Perhapsinstead of buying the latest round ofanger-inducing analysis, we should readmore scripture, consult more history, andget involved with more serious peopleand practitioners? Perhaps instead ofrushing to condemn those we feel repre-sent the system, we should spend moretime in service and working for change,thereby learning what real life demandsand what real change costs?

The cultural air that we breathe—themood of our times—makes it hard not toembrace and deploy rebellion in thewrong sense. We react against authority;we question every policy. We second-guessevery decision. We mock every expressionof sincerity, and we come to doubt everycall to integrity. Such a model is unlivable,and if this is our experience, then perhapswe are indeed rebels without a pause.

The alternative is to focus ourminds (Colossians 3:1-3), to fix our intent,and to choose daily self-denial as the wayof life (Luke 9:23-26). We choose to say“Yes” to our King and his kingdom, toexplore ways and means to follow Himmore faithfully, love Him more intently,and serve Him more intentionally. The“world” and its many allures is acknowl-edged but resisted, and our vision (I Peter5:8-10) is to be rebels with a cause.

Let me give you an example. Duringthe Second World War, the courageousLutheran pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer recognized that his German culture andsociety were turning against everythingvaluable and sacred he believed in. Theso-called “German Church” sought toembrace Nazi ideology and policy and toreject much that was central to thegospel. Bonhoeffer had a choice: Wouldhe follow the many who counseled com-promise and obedience to the state, orwould he follow scripture and conscience?His choice was scripture, his path resist-ance, and its outcome his death.

The issues that face us today arehuge; they are costly and they aredemanding. To be a faithful and focusedChristian is increasingly a major chal-lenge in our times. It is time, therefore,for a more serious expression of theChristian faith in modern America, and Ipray we will all personally count the cost,embrace God’s vision, and take up ourcross. We must resist the world and liveas rebels with a cause! May his kingdomcome, may his will be done, on earth as itis in Heaven!

Stuart McAllister is Regional Director,Americas at RZIM.1Albert Camus, The Rebel: An Essay on Man in Revolt (New York: Vintage International, 1991), 10.2Kevin Belmonte, The Quotable Chesterton: The Wit and Wisdom of G.K. Chesterton(Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 2011), 171.3Camus, 23.4Os Guinness, A Free People’s Suicide: SustainableFreedom and the American Future (DownersGrove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2012), epigraph.

5Dallas Willard with Don Simpson, Revolution of Character: Discovering Christ’s Pattern forSpiritual Transformation (Colorado Springs, CO:NavPress, 2005), 16.6Eugene Peterson, A Long Obedience in the SameDirection (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsityPress, 2000), 27.

7Camus, 21.

A Treaty with Realityby Danielle DuRant

As the proverbial saying goes,“The truth will set you free.” In fact, those are Jesus’s very words in John 8. However, we are prone to want freedom and truth on our own terms.

[ f l e e t i n g s h a d o w s ]


Whether filing our taxes,writing a researchpaper, or following upwith the doctor, weoften try to avoid as

long as possible what we don’t want to door to think about. We may chalk this upto mere procrastination, the putting offof a difficult or unpleasant task. Butsometimes, could it be that we wish toguard ourselves from anticipated pain orfrom ideas and experiences we’d rathernot explore?

C.S. Lewis confesses that he made“a treaty with reality” to navigate aroundthe trauma he witnessed in World War 1.He writes, “I put the war on one side to adegree which some people will thinkshameful and some incredible. Otherswill call it a flight from reality. I maintainthat it was rather a treaty with reality, thefixing of a frontier.”1Although Lewisauthored over three dozen books, onlybriefly in Surprised By Joy does he recall“the horribly smashed men still movinglike half-crushed beetles, the sitting orstanding corpses, the landscape of sheerearth without a blade of grass.” Instead,“[A]ll this shows rarely and faintly inmemory. It is too cut off from the rest ofmy experience and often seems to havehappened to someone else.”2

In his biography C.S. Lewis: A Life,colleague Alister McGrath observes,“Lewis spun a cocoon around himself,insulating his thoughts…. The worldcould be kept at bay—and this was bestdone by reading, and allowing the wordsand thoughts of others to shield himfrom what was going on around him.”3

Given his wartime experience aswell as the early death of his mother, it isunderstandable that Lewis (and others whohave known similar loss or trauma) wouldwant to distance himself from the eventsthat occurred. And yet, he acknowledgesthat sadly much of his life was character-ized by avoidance: “I had always wanted,above all things, not to be ‘interferedwith.’ I had been far more anxious toavoid suffering than to achieve delight. I

had always aimed at limited liabilities.”4

As the proverbial saying goes, “Thetruth will set you free.” In fact, those areJesus’s very words in John 8. He is speak-ing to those who “believed in him,” whocall God their Father.5They believe theysee reality clearly and understand whoGod is. Jesus challenges them, “If youabide in my word, you are truly my disci-ples, and you will know the truth, and thetruth will set you free” (verses 31-32).

With a curious oversight regardingtheir painful history with Egypt andBabylon, let alone their current oppres-sion under Rome, they quickly reply, “Weare offspring of Abraham and have neverbeen enslaved to anyone. How is it thatyou say, ‘You will become free’?” Jesusresponds, “Truly, truly, I say to you, every-one who practices sin is a slave to sin.The slave does not remain in the houseforever; the son remains forever. So if theSon sets you free, you will be free indeed.I know that you are offspring of Abraham;yet you seek to kill me because my wordfinds no place in you” (see verses 33-37).

Jesus says literally, “My word findsno room in you.” Seemingly unaware,those who claim to believe try to shutevery door and window to the nature ofGod that Jesus is disclosing. They want toguard themselves from what they cannotor do not want to see. Jesus seeks to openup their hearts with a question and itsanswer: “Why do you not understandwhat I say? It is because you cannot bearto hear my word” (verse 43). Moreover,He tells them they are willing to do what-ever it takes to get rid of this source ofdisruption.

The late Greg Bahnsen, who was abrilliant Christian apologist, observed,“We at times hear people declare ‘I can-not believe that’ (e.g., a close relative hasbeen convicted of a heinous crime), butwe all realize that the ‘cannot’ here shouldbe interpreted as ‘will not’—because onedoes not want it to be true, cannot emo-tionally afford to admit it, thinks it is hisduty to resist it, or lacks the intellectualenergy to rise to the occasion.”6



We often swing between belief and unbelief because deep down, likeC.S. Lewis, we don’t want to be “interfered with.” We want freedomand truth on our own terms, because we recognize, as one authorremarks, “The truth makes us free but first it makes us miserable.”

Yet one night, Lewis encounters“The reality with which no treaty can bemade.”11He comes to discover that thejoy he has longed for, the fleeting shadowsof which he has traced since childhood, isactually a person: God. And, as the title ofhis early memoir reveals, he is surprised.

Lewis finds, like countless othershave, that the gospel challenges him inways that he needed—and even daredhope: “The words compelle intrare, compelthem to come in, have been so abused bywicked men that we shudder at them;but, properly understood, they plumb thedepth of the Divine mercy. The hardnessof God is kinder than the softness of men,and His compulsion is our liberation.”12

Danielle DuRant is Director of Researchand Writing at RZIM.

1 C.S. Lewis, Surprised By Joy: The Shape of My Early Life (New York: Harcourt BraceJovanovich, 1984), 158. 2 Ibid., 196. 3 Alister McGrath, C.S. Lewis: A Life by(Wheaton, IL: Tyndale House, 2013), 69.4 Surprised By Joy, 228.5 See John 8:31, 41.6 Greg Bahnsen,“The Crucial Concept of Self-Deception in Presuppositional Apologetics” inWestminster Theological Journal LVII (1995), 1-31.Available online athttp://www.cmfnow.com/articles/pa207.htm.7 Ibid. 8 Herbert Fingarette, Self-Deception: With a NewChapter (Berkeley, CA: University of CaliforniaPress, 2000), 28.9 Bahnsen, op.cit.10 Sandra Wilson, Released from Shame, quoted inDiane Komp, Anatomy of a Lie (Grand Rapids,MI: Zondervan Publishing House, 1998), 9.

11 Surprised By Joy, 228.12 Ibid., 229.

Notice that not wanting to believeserves to protect the individual from thepainful reality before him or her. Such aposition of denial keeps us from lookingdirectly at the truth, whether this relatesto our recurring fears, unrequited ques-tions, or even long-awaited hopes. This“involves adopting an avoidance policywhereby one purposefully chooses to stayignorant of some engagement in theworld.”7 In his seminal work Self-Deception,philosopher Herbert Fingarette arguesthat such willful ignorance lies at “thedeep paradox of self-deception.” The self-deceived person “persuades himself tobelieve contrary to the evidence in orderto evade, somehow, the unpleasant truthto which he has already seen that the evidence points.”8

The apostle John has sometimesbeen reproached for his unsympathetictreatment of “Abraham’s offspring,” but I think a careful reading of his Gospelreveals that he records Jesus presenting a universal portrait of humanity. Indeed,he uses simple language and contrastingcategories such as light and darkness, lifeand death to show that we are all proneto respond to God in a similar manner. As Bahnsen writes, “There is somethingof a cognitive mess at the core of ourlives. We are inconsistent in our choices,incoherent in our convictions, persuadedwhere we ought not to be, and deludedthat we know ourselves transparently.”9

We often swing between belief and unbelief because deep down, like C.S.Lewis, we don’t want to be “interferedwith.” We want freedom and truth on ourown terms, because we recognize, as oneauthor remarks, “The truth makes us freebut first it makes us miserable.”10


[ w o n d e r s b e y o n d o u r i m a g i n a t i o n ]


To Hear the Horns of Elfland by Jill Carattini

The world of Faery had great importance on the imagination of C.S. Lewis and in particular, this “old idea that Faery overlaps our world—that one can, unwillingly and unwittingly, pass from one into the other.” Faery is both beautiful and dangerous, its boundaries unclear.

When Alex Renton’s six-year-old daughter Lulu askedher parents to send the letter she penned to God,

Renton had to stop to consider all thepossibilities. An award-winning journalistbased in Edinburgh, Renton is an atheist.And while he does not see himself keep-ing company with the “angry atheists ofour time,” he was less than pleased bythis invasion of Lulu’s moral imaginationby primary school teachers who saw mathand God with equal certainty. One of theeasiest responses would have been simplyto have the talk on religion a little earlierthan they imagined, to sit Lulu down andtell her that the letter could not be sentbecause God does not exist. “We wouldhave said that [God] was invented byhuman beings, because they were ratherpuzzled by life and death and some otherproblems in between,” writes Renton.


But to give Lulu that answer seemedto him almost self-indulgent, more abouthis own scruples than Lulu’s wellbeing.The decision, he felt, was a complicatedone: “[T]he desire to shield your childrenfrom delusion and falsehood is easilymatched by the one that longs to protecttheir innocence, to let them learn aboutthe world at a gentle pace and, indeed,learn for themselves, rather than alwayshand over your notion of what is what.”1

In short, what was at stake for Luluwas an issue of imagination. While God,to Renton, is on imaginary par with thetooth fairy or Father Christmas, a delusion full of wishful thinking, he alsoknows it to be at times a beautiful delu-sion. While he found himself proud ofLulu’s budding rationalist sensibilitieseven amidst her supernatural curiosity—her letter simply read, “To God, How didyou get created? From Lulu, XO”—he wasless than pleased with the teachers hebelieved were fueling this part of herimagination. Yet he was simultaneouslytorn by the dismissal of everything thatimagination entailed: “The Bible, takenhighly selectively, is of course a prettygood introduction to the humanist moral system in which I’d like to see mychildren play a part. I have a copy of A. C. Grayling’s new ‘secular bible’: a wonderful enterprise, but it lacks the songsand the stories.” 2

Convinced that Christianity positsan imaginary world, Renton lamentsnonetheless a world entirely without the imagination that Christianity nurtures. The songs and stories and thebeauty of a world filled with God is onein which a child—and even her rationallyminded parents—can naturally delight. A world without that imagination is oneto mourn on a very real level.

OF FAITH AND FAIRY TALES Renton’s dilemma is one with which C.S. Lewis the atheist would have deeply

resonated, though it was not until some-time after his conversion to Christianitythat he was able to put his strugglebetween the rational and the imaginativeinto words. As his biographers have welldocumented, imagination and the imagi-nary boldly colored Lewis’s childhood,from his own chivalric adventures inAnimal-Land, which allowed the youngLewis to combine his two chief pleas-ures—“dressed animals” and “knights inarmor”—to his growing affections forfairy tales and dwarves, music and poetry,Nature and Norse Mythology. For theyoung Clive Lewis, who announced at theage of four that he would hitherto begoing by the name “Jacksie,” imaginationquickly took a dominant role, his firstdelight in myth and story eventually turn-ing into a scholar’s interest in them.

To fully understand his love for theimaginary—indeed, to understand Lewishimself—something must be said aboutthe distinctively English word Faery. The world of Faery, which has its roots in Celtic culture, is not so easily catego-rized. It is not at all the land of delicatefairies that Walt Disney would have usimagine. Nor is it simply imaginary, astory altogether detached and unrelatedto the world before us. Faery is, first, a place. It is lush and green like gentleBritish landscapes and ancient Englishforests, but forests untamed, willful, andenchanted: “a world, that sometimesoverlaps with Britain but is fundamentallyOther than it.”3 It is Britain seen in a “distorting mirror, a mirror one can passthrough.”4

Biographer Alan Jacobs hints at theimportance of Faery on the imaginationof Jack, and in particular, this “old ideathat Faery overlaps our world—that onecan, unwillingly and unwittingly, passfrom one into the other.”5 Faery is bothbeautiful and dangerous, its boundariesunclear. The encounter with Faery and itstales, which can scarcely be miniaturized


as a world for children, was one thathaunted Lewis much of his life:

O hark, O hear! How thin and clear,And thinner, clearer, farther going!O sweet and far from cliff and scarThe horns of Elfland faintly blowing.6

Lewis heard and followed “thehorns of Elfland.” They were dear to him, like arrows of Joy shot at him fromchildhood. He followed them throughthe death of his mother at the fragile ageof nine, through the horrid years at boarding school, through the doubt anddismissal of faith and God, through themetaphysical pessimism and the deep layers of secular ice, through a dejectedand reluctant conversion, to Narnia, andto the Joy itself.

Of course, this is not to say that the imaginative world in which Lewislived was one fueled in any sense byChristianity or faith; nor were the imagi-nary worlds he loved anything we mightnecessarily call Christian. In fact, unlikeAlex Renton who notes admiration forthe songs and stories of faith, Lewis wasquite underwhelmed with the Christianimagination. “[T]he externals ofChristianity made no appeal to my senseof beauty…. Christianity was mainly associated for me with ugly architecture,ugly music, and bad poetry.”7He read andadmired the mind of G.K. Chesterton,the verse of John Milton, and the imagi-nation of George MacDonald, but only in spite of their Christianity.

On the other hand, Lewis’s imagi-native life was not something that could

be readily claimed by his rationalism,materialism, or his atheism either. Quitethe contrary, in fact, Lewis sensedthroughout his adolescence that thisimaginative part of his mind had beennecessarily cut off from the analytical. Hehad “on the one side a many-islanded seaof poetry and myth; on the other a gliband shallow ‘rationalism.’”8 It made for arather gloomy outlook on reality, as Lewisnotes, for “nearly all that I loved I believedto be imaginary; nearly all that I believed tobe real I thought grim and meaningless.”9

This need to further himself fromthe imaginary would continue to rear itshead as he delved further into the fiercerationalism of his teacher Mr. Kirkpatrickand upon efforts to assume a new intel-lectual presence at Oxford. Describinghis first two years, Lewis notes hisresolve: “There was to be no more pes-simism, no more self-pity, no flirtationswith any idea of the supernatural, noromantic delusions…. [G]ood sense meant,for me at that moment, a retreat, almosta panic-stricken flight, from all that sortof romanticism which had hitherto beenthe chief concern of my life.”10Amongother reasons for the distancing of hisimagination was a new intellectual move-ment in psychology that was becomingincreasingly influential. Lewis writes:

[T]he new Psychology was at that timesweeping through us all. We did notswallow it whole (few people then did)but we were all influenced. What wewere most concerned about was“Fantasy” or “wishful thinking.”… Now what, I asked myself, were all

To fully understand his love for the imaginary—indeed, to understandLewis himself—something must be said about the distinctively Englishword Faery. It is not at all the land of delicate fairies that Walt Disneywould have us imagine. Nor is it simply imaginary, a story altogetherdetached and unrelated to the world before us. Faery is, first, a place.


my delectable mountains and western gardens but sheer Fantasies?… Withthe confidence of a boy I decided Ihad done with all that. No moreAvalon, no more Hesperides. I had(this was very precisely the opposite ofthe truth) “seen through” them. And Iwas never going to be taken in again.11

WHEN FAITH IS WISHFUL THINKINGPerhaps understandably then, in a universe that is, “in the main, a veryregrettable institution,”12 there is noroom or reason for the fantastic. Still, the accusations of Renton and a long lineof far less amiable atheists argue thatwhere the Christian imagination possess-es beauty and hope, it is because at heartthe Christian religion is about wish fulfillment—even if it is, as Renton pro-poses, a beautiful, imaginative delusion.

Of the many objections toChristianity, it is this one that stands outin my mind as troubling: that to beChristian is to withdraw from the worldof reality, to follow fairy tales with wishfulhearts and myths that insist we stopthinking and believe all will be right inthe end because God says so. In such avein, Karl Marx depicted Christianity as akind of drug that anesthetizes people tothe suffering in the world and thewretchedness of life. Likewise, SigmundFreud claimed that belief in God func-tions as an infantile dream that helps usevade the pain and helplessness we bothfeel and see around us. I don’t find thesecritiques and others like them particular-ly troubling because I find them accurate

Of the many objections to Christianity, it is this one that standsout in my mind as troubling: that to be Christian is to withdrawfrom the world of reality, to follow fairy tales with wishfulhearts and myths that insist we stop thinking and believe all willbe right in the end because God says so.

of the kingdom Jesus described. On thecontrary, I find them troubling becausethere are times I want to live as if Freudand Marx are quite right in their analyses.

I was a seminary student when theabrupt news of cancer and jarring esti-mates of time remaining pulled me out oftheology books and into my dad’s hospi-tal room. The small church he attendedwas pastored by an energetic man whosebold prayers for healing chased doubt anddread out of the room like the pigs Jesusran off a cliff. “Faith is being sure of whatyou hope for and certain of what you donot see.” He read this verse fromHebrews 11:1 to us repeatedly, imploringus to seize the promise of healing and tocast out even the smallest sign of doubtthat our miracle would not happen. Wesimultaneoulsy met with oncologists whotold us it would be unlikely for dad to livemore than six weeks. I had at my disposala faith and theology that could haveuttered so many different responses. Butwe wanted the miracle so badly, I didn’tdare. So as if we were participants in amagic show doing our part for the trick,we followed the rules, so much so that wedidn’t talk about funeral plans or prefer-ences until it was too late.

This was no doubt one moment whenthe imagination of faith was more “wish-ful thought” than anything else. Fear livedmore powerfully in that prayer than trustor hope or even love. As a result, I knowall too well the critique of Christianity aswish fulfilment to be a valid point, for inthis instance, it was: “Yes! ‘wish-fulfillmentdreams’ we spin to cheat/ our timid heartsand ugly Fact defeat!” 13


ing for his mother to be well again, forhome to be restored, and for someone tohear this deep wish made its mark on hisimagination, nonetheless. A scene in TheMagician’s Nephew perhaps says more:

“Please—Mr. Lion—Aslan, Sir?”said Digory working up the courage toask. “Could you—may I—please, will yougive me some magic fruit of this countryto make my mother well?”17

Digory, at this point in the story,had brought about much disaster forAslan and his freshly created Narnia. Buthe had to ask. In fact, he thought for a sec-ond that he might attempt to make a dealwith Aslan. But quickly Digory realizedthe lion was not the sort of person withwhich one could try to make bargains.

Lewis then recounts, “Up till thenthe child had been looking at the lion’sgreat front feet and the huge claws onthem. Now in his despair he looked up athis face. And what he saw surprised himas much as anything in his whole life. Forthe tawny face was bent down near hisown and wonder of wonders great shiningtears stood in the lion’s eyes. They weresuch big, bright tears compared withDigory’s own that for a moment he felt asif the lion must really be sorrier about hismother than he was himself.”18

“My son, my son,” said Aslan. “Iknow. Grief is great. Only you and I inthis land know that yet. Let us be good toone another...”19

Christianity is indeed on some levelwishful thinking. For what planted in usthis longing, this ache of Joy? Yet it is farfrom an invitation to live blind andunconcerned with the world of sufferingaround us, intent to tell feel-good storiesor to withdraw from the harder scenes oflife with fearful wishes. Digory discoversin Aslan what the Incarnation offers theworld: a God who, in taking our embodi-ment quite seriously, presents quite theopposite of escapism. The story of Rachelweeping for her slaughtered children

But this is not to say that wishingmy father would live was itself invalid,that the hope we imagined was rootless,or that there is not One who moves us towish in the first place. For indeed,“Whence came the wish, and whence the power to dream?” continues J.R.R.Tolkien in the poem that would capturethe doubting Lewis. In other words, ifthe material view of the world is true,why should we have such dreams in thefirst place? As Lewis would write later,using the same argument:Do what they will, then, we remainconscious of a desire which no naturalhappiness will satisfy. But is there anyreason to suppose that reality offersany satisfaction to it? Nor does thebeing hungry prove that we havebread. But I think it may be urged thatthis misses the point. A man’s physicalhunger does not prove that that manwill get any bread; he may die of stava-tion on a raft in the Atlantic. But surelya man’s hunger does prove that hecomes of a race which repairs its bodyby eating, and inhabits a world where eatable substances exist.14

For two young boys clinging togeth-er in the hallway as adults whisperedabout cancer and came and went fromtheir mother’s room, Flora Lewis’s deathwas the event whereby “everything thathad made the house a home had failedus.”15As his mother lay dying, nine-year-old C.S. Lewis prayed that she would live.Alan Jacob describes Jack’s prayer for herrecovery: “He had gotten the idea thatpraying ‘in faith’ was a matter of convinc-ing yourself that what you were asking forwould be granted. (After Flora had diedhe strove to convince himself that Godwould bring her back to life.)”16

Lewis insists the disappointment ofthese failed prayers—not to a Savior or aJudge but, like me, to something more ofa magician—was not formative to hisyoung sense of faith. No doubt the long-


beside the story of the birth of Jesus isone glimpse among many that refuses tolet us sweep the suffering of the worldunder the rug of unimportance. The factthat it is included in the gospel that bringsus the hope of Christ is not only whatmakes that hope endurable, but what sug-gests Freud and Marx are entirely wrong.Christ brings the kind of hope that canreach even the most hopeless among us,within even the darkest moments, whentimid hearts spin pained wishes. Jesus hasnot overlooked the suffering of the worldor our deep longings within it anymorethan He has invited his followers to do so;it is a part of the very story He tells.

IMAGINATION AS EVIDENCEAlex Renton’s initial discomfort towardthe meddling with the mechanism of hisdaughter’s imagination gave way toanother idea. Instead of sitting Luludown and trying to explain that God wasnot taking letters because God was notreal, he decided the burden of proof rest-ed elsewhere. “There are people whobelieve in God who ought to be able toanswer a fellow believer’s question. Someof them are paid to do it. Lulu’s letter isof their making, not mine. If they couldsatisfy her, I would keep out of it. For thetime being.”20Renton turned to hisChristian friends first, who weren’t veryhelpful, followed by several professionalsto whom he sent a jpeg of Lulu’s letter toGod. Two of the denominational leadersdid not reply. One sent a letter thatseemed to him theologically sound, butnot very conducive to a six year-old’simagination. The last reply came fromLambeth Palace in the form of an emailfrom Archbishop Rowan Williams him-self. It read,

Dear Lulu, Your dad sent on your letter and asked if I have any answers.It’s a difficult one! But I think Godmight reply a bit like this—

Dear Lulu—Nobody invented me—butlots of people discovered me and were quitesurprised. They discovered me when theylooked round at the world and thought itwas really beautiful or really mysteriousand wondered where it came from. Theydiscovered me when they were very veryquiet on their own and felt a sort of peaceand love they hadn’t expected. Then they invented ideas about me—

some of them sensible and some of them notso sensible. From time to time I sent themsome hints—specially in the life of Jesus tohelp them get closer to what I’m really like.But there was nothing and nobody

around before me to invent me. Rather likesomeone who writes a story in a book, Istarted making up the story of the worldand eventually invented human beings likeyou who could ask me awkward questions! And then he’d send you lots of love

and sign off.I know he doesn’t usually write let-

ters, so I have to do the best I can onhis behalf. Lots of love from me too.21

Both Renton and Lulu were sincerelytouched, much more so than he ever

expected. And Lulu especially liked thepart about “God’s Story,” confessedRenton. A world without that Story—andthe songs and stories that accompany it—is indeed something to mourn.

Whether compelling visions of asix-year-old, inspiring music or architec-ture, or comforting a child through theloss of his mother, the power of the imag-ination is often clear. But what of themere presence of the imagination? “I donot think the resemblance between theChristian and the merely imaginativeexperience is accidental,” wrote Lewis. “I think that all things, in their way, reflectheavenly truth, the imagination notleast.”22Certainly, this taste of a richerfare was sensed in the formative imagina-tions at which Lewis supped long beforehe knew he was starving for their Host:


I believe I probably first loved God as an untame Lion, notbecause the God I wished for was kinder than the God whois, but because I did not yet see that my deficient vision of Godwas the vision that needed a better imagination.Chesterton had more sense than allthe other moderns put together; bating, of course, his Christianity.Johnson was one of the few authorswhom I felt I could trust utterly; curiously enough, he had the samekink. Spenser and Milton by a strangecoincidence had it too. Even amongancient authors the same paradox wasto be found. The most religious (Plato,Aeschylus, Virgil) were clearly those onwhom I could really feed. On theother hand, those writers who did notsuffer from religion and with whom intheory my sympathy ought to havebeen complete— Shaw and Wells andMill and Gibbon and Voltaire— allseemed a little thin; what as boys wecalled “tinny.” It wasn’t that I didn’tlike them. They were all (especiallyGibbon) entertaining; but hardlymore. There seemed to be no depth in them. They were too simple. Theroughness and density of life did notappear in their books.23

And while Lewis would come to seethat this “lower life of the imagination isnot a beginning of, nor a step toward, thehigher life of the spirit,”24 he was equally certain that God in God’s mercy could profoundly make it such a beginning.

My own encounter of the greatimagination of C.S. Lewis is similar to atestimony given at his funeral, namely,that “his real power was not proof; it wasdepiction. There lived in his writings aChristian universe that could be boththought and felt, in which he was athome and in which he made his reader at home.”25 I believe I probably first

loved God as an untame Lion, notbecause the God I wished for was kinderthan the God who is, but because I didnot yet see that my deficient vision ofGod was the vision that needed a betterimagination.

As Lewis later wrote of his intenselove of all Norse mythology, “[A]t thetime, Asgard and the Valkyries seemed tome incomparably more important thananything else in my experience…. Moreshockingly, they seemed much moreimportant than my steadily growingdoubts about Christianity. This may havebeen—in part, no doubt was—penalblindness; yet that might not be thewhole story. If the Northernness seemedthen a bigger thing than my religion, thatmay partly have been because my atti-tude toward it contained elements whichmy religion ought to have contained anddid not.”26

Even so, in moments of moral crisis,we do not pause to ask what Jane Eryewould do, I once heard a writer say. Shehad referenced the Brian Nichol’s story—the gunman who went on a shootingspree in Atlanta and ended up holding awoman hostage in her apartment whereshe read to him from The Purpose DriveLife and eventually convinced him to turnhimself in. She then asked if this storywould have turned out the same if theyoung girl had read to him from MobyDick or War and Peace or any of the greatclassics of history. Her point was clear:the influence of art and imagination isusually not in the thick of things, but onthe margins of culture. It is not alwaysclear and obvious, but rather, often denseand unsettling.


And yet there are inarguably char-acters and stories that indeed become ofmoral significance, pulling us into worldsthat call for attention, compassion, andconsideration. Long before I had any ideaabout the word “allegory”–or the conceptof good or bad literature–Narnian kings,talking beavers, and the Queen of Glomebegan appearing in my dreams, beckon-ing me to another place. In the aftermathof my dad’s death and subsequent disap-pointment over my foolish embrace of afearful formula for the miracle we did notget, it was Aslan’s empathetic tears forDigory that came to mind when all seemedlost. For Lewis, it was the bright shadowcoming out of a George MacDonaldbook that found him mercifully in themargins. “In the depth of my disgraces, in the then invincible ignorance of myintellect, all this was given me withoutasking, even without consent. That nightmy imagination was, in a certain sense,baptized; the rest of me, not unnaturally,took longer. I had not the faintest notionwhat I had let myself in for by buyingPhantastes.”27But the Spirit no doubt mercifully did.

It is quite true that a young materi-alist or pessimist, atheist or agnostic whowishes to stay this way cannot be toocareful in choosing what to read. God isunscrupulous, as Lewis attests, willing touse our own imaginations against us, ourown pens to probe the wounds. If imagi-nation is not the property of materialism,as I have argued, but the playground ofheaven, it is nonetheless not the thingitself. But the hopeful signs of God’s owncompelling imagination are everywhere—beautiful and terrible, inviting and trans-forming. It is the encounter with theGate, not the signs along the way, thattransforms the journey. It is said thatLewis became more like himself when hefinally kneeled and admitted that Godwas God—“as though the key to his ownhidden and locked-away personality wasgiven to him.”28Everything was intensified

—his loves, his responses, Jack himself—as the one brought in kicking andscreaming discovered in Christ and hiskingdom the world of Joy he had onlybefore heard feebly. The faint horns ofElfland give way to the resounding gloryof the creator and wonders beyond ourimagining.

Jill Carattini is managing editor of “A Sliceof Infinity” at RZIM.

1Alex Renton, “A letter to God—and a reply fromLambeth,”The Times (April 21, 2011), accessedat http://alexrenton.com/tag/letter-to-god/. 2 Ibid., emphasis mine.3Alan Jacobs, The Narnian: The Life andImagination of C.S. Lewis (San Francisco:Harper, 2005), 16.4 Ibid., 15.5 Ibid., 18.6Alfred Tennyson, “The Princess,” AlfredTennyson: The Major Works (Oxford: OxfordUniversity Press, 2009), 151.

7C. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy: The Shape of MyEarly Life (Orlando: Houghton MifflinHarcourt, 1955), 172.8 Ibid., 170.9 Ibid.10 Ibid., 201.11 Ibid., 20312 Ibid., 63.13 J.R.R. Tolkien, “Mythopoeia,” as quoted inAlan Jacobs, The Narnian: The Life andImagination of C.S. Lewis (San Francisco:Harper, 2005), 145.

14 Ibid., 146. 15Lewis, 19.16 Jacobs, 5. 17C.S. Lewis, The Magician’s Nephew (New York:HarperCollins, 1955), 168.

18 Ibid., 168.19 Ibid.20Renton, “A letter to God.” 21 Ibid.22Lewis, Surprised by Joy, 167. 23 Ibid., 213-214. 24 Ibid., 167. 25 Jacobs, 312.26 Ibid., 76.27 Ibid., 181. 28 Jacobs, 131.

Beyond Mere Morality

Think Again

AS HUMAN BEINGS, we have the capacity to feel withmoral implications, to exercise the gift of imagination,and to think in paradigms. We make judgments accord-ing to the way we each individually view or interpret theworld around us. Even if we do not agree with eachother on what ought to be, we recognize that there mustbe—and that there is—an “ought.” For example, we all

ought to behave in certain ways or else we cannot get along, which is whywe have laws. In short, we ascribe to ourselves freedom with boundaries.

Yet too often we shun boundaries because we feel impeded or we’reafraid they will deprive us of what we think we really want. While we knowthat freedom cannot be absolute, we still resist any notion of limitation … atleast for ourselves.

The Bible does not mute its warning here. We are drawn like moths tothe flame towards that which often crosses known boundaries, that candestroy, and yet we flirt with those dangers. But at the end of life, we seldomhear regrets for not going into forbidden terrain. I do not know of anyonewho died as a Christian exercising self-control who wished he or she hadbeen an atheist or had lived an indulgent life. But I have known many in thereverse situation.

In this inconsistency we witness unintended consequences. As I havenoted before, I have little doubt that the single greatest obstacle to theimpact of the gospel has not been its inability to provide answers, but thefailure on our part to live it out. That failure not only robs us of our innerpeace but mars the intended light that a consistently lived life brings to theone observing our message.

After lecturing at a major American university, I was driven to the airport by the organizer of the event. I was quite jolted by what he told me.He said, “My wife brought our neighbor last night. She is a medical doctorand had not been to anything like this before. On their way home, my wifeasked her what she thought of it all.” He paused and then continued, “Doyou know what she said?” Rather reluctantly, I shook my head. “She said,‘That was a very powerful evening. The arguments were very persuasive. Iwonder what he is like in his private life.’”

The answers were intellectually and existentially satisfying, but she still needed to know, did they really make a difference in the life of the one proclaiming them? G.K. Chesterton said, “The problem with Christianity is not that it has been tried and found wanting, but that it has been founddifficult and left untried.” The Irish evangelist Gypsy Smith once said,“There are five Gospels. Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, and the Christian, and some people will never read the first four.” In other words, the message


is seen before it is heard. For any skeptic, the answers to their questions are notenough; they look deeper, to the visible transformation of the one offering them.

Here we must bring a different caution. Christianity is definitively anddrastically different from all other religions. In every religion except Christianity,morality is a means of attainment. No amount of goodness can justify us before

a sovereign God. The Christian message is a reminder that our true malady is one thatmorality alone cannot solve. A transformedheart by God’s grace is the efficaciouspower that lifts us beyond mere morality. It is the richness of being right with God.His grace makes up for what our wills cannot accomplish.

At its core, the call of Jesus is a bounti-ful invitation to trust and freedom to live inthe riches of that relationship. I am onlyfree in as much as I can surrender to Godand trust Him to give me the purpose forwhich my soul longs. This is the wonder and power of a redeemed heart. If I cannotsurrender and trust Him, I am not free. We must know to whom we belong and whocalls us all to the same purpose. Only when Iam at peace with God can I be at peace with

myself, and only then will I be at peace with my fellow humans and truly free.I remember meeting a doctor from Pakistan several years ago. He was a

Muslim by birth and practice. He was invited to go to hear a Christian speakingon the meaning of the gospel. He told me he didn’t really care much for what was being said, until the final two statements. The speaker said this: “In surrendering one wins; in dying one lives.” In surrendering to Christ wehave the victory over sin. In dying to self, Christ then lives within us.

When that crucified life is seen, men and women are drawn to the Saviorbecause they see what the gospel does in a surrendered heart. That witnesslives within the boundaries our Lord set for us and takes us beyond meremorality to the life of the soul that is set free.

Warm Regards,

Ravi


The Christian message is areminder that our true malady

is one that morality alone cannotsolve. A transformed heart by

God’s grace is the efficaciouspower that lifts us beyond mere

morality. It is the richness of being right with God. Hisgrace makes up for what our

wills cannot accomplish.

For more information or to make a contribution, please contact:

Ravi Zacharias International Ministries4725 Peachtree Corners CircleSuite 250Norcross, Georgia 30092770.449.6766

RZIM is a member of the Evangelical Council forFinancial Accountability and the Canadian Council of Christian Charities.

WWW.RZIM.ORG

HELPING THE THINKER BELIEVE. HELP ING THE BEL IEVER TH INK .

JUST THINKING • The Quarterly Magazine ofRAVI ZACHARIAS INTERNATIONAL MINISTRIES

© 2013 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries

4725 Peachtree Corners CircleSuite 250Norcross, Georgia 30092

“To all perfection I see a limit, but your commands are boundless.”—Psalm 119:96

Love is the most powerful apologeticwww.wellspringinternational.org

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