"Now we cannot, in that sense, discover our failure to keep God's law except by trying our very hardest (and then failing). Unless we really try, whatever we say there will always be at the back of our minds the idea that if we try harder next time we shall succeed in being completely good. Thus, in one sense, the road back to God is a road of moral effort, of trying harder and harder. But in another sense it is not trying that is ever going to bring us home. All this trying leads up to the vital moment at which you turn to God and say, 'You must do this. I can't.'" Mere Christianity
In discussing the relationship between faith and works, Lewis looks at the whole matter in terms of a time sequence. First, Lewis says, we must try our very best to be morally upright people. It is only by trying our darnedest, giving it our all, that we will fully realize just how morally bankrupt we really are.
This was Lewis's own personal experience. Around the time of his conversion to theism in 1929, Lewis made a serious attempt, for the first time in his adult life, at living out the cardinal virtues. In the course of making this attempt, Lewis discovered within himself "a zoo of lusts, a bedlam of ambitions, a nursery of fears, a harem of fondled hatreds." (Surprised by Joy) Lewis found that he could not last out one hour without recourse to what, at that time, he called "Spirit". In other words, he came to the point where he said to God: "You must do this. I can't!"
This reminds me of one of my first serious attempts at rock climbing. At first it was all my experienced rock-climbing friend Bill could do to talk me to the edge of the cliff to do a 75-foot rappel. My body was securely locked from "diaper" to carabiner to rope, and the rope was firmly anchored to the rock. But I was still filled with a "nursery of fears". When I finally did back over the edge of the cliff it was all I could do to take little baby steps down the side of the mountain. About half-way down my friend Bill called out to me: "Let go of the rope!" "What?!You've got to be kidding!" "Let go of the rope and the belayer down below you will pull the rope up tight." "O.K. I guess." And so I let go of the rope. When the belayer did pull me up tight I was suddenly suspended in mid air. At that moment I felt like that experience was a parable of my life. And I sensed God saying to me: "You don't have to worry. I've got a hold of you. And I won't ever let you fall beyond recovery."
God wants us to take our baby steps in moral living. He wants us to back over the side of the cliff and give it our all--just so we see how little our all really is. He wants us to get to the point where we relax, let go, and give our all to him--so that we can discover he has had us in his grip all along. Works, yes, beginning the rappel of the Christian life requires works, very feeble works that don't accomplish much of anything, works which lead us to the point of faith--where God does everything and we simply trust him.
In discussing the relationship between faith and works, Lewis looks at the whole matter in terms of a time sequence. First, Lewis says, we must try our very best to be morally upright people. It is only by trying our darnedest, giving it our all, that we will fully realize just how morally bankrupt we really are.
This was Lewis's own personal experience. Around the time of his conversion to theism in 1929, Lewis made a serious attempt, for the first time in his adult life, at living out the cardinal virtues. In the course of making this attempt, Lewis discovered within himself "a zoo of lusts, a bedlam of ambitions, a nursery of fears, a harem of fondled hatreds." (Surprised by Joy) Lewis found that he could not last out one hour without recourse to what, at that time, he called "Spirit". In other words, he came to the point where he said to God: "You must do this. I can't!"
This reminds me of one of my first serious attempts at rock climbing. At first it was all my experienced rock-climbing friend Bill could do to talk me to the edge of the cliff to do a 75-foot rappel. My body was securely locked from "diaper" to carabiner to rope, and the rope was firmly anchored to the rock. But I was still filled with a "nursery of fears". When I finally did back over the edge of the cliff it was all I could do to take little baby steps down the side of the mountain. About half-way down my friend Bill called out to me: "Let go of the rope!" "What?!You've got to be kidding!" "Let go of the rope and the belayer down below you will pull the rope up tight." "O.K. I guess." And so I let go of the rope. When the belayer did pull me up tight I was suddenly suspended in mid air. At that moment I felt like that experience was a parable of my life. And I sensed God saying to me: "You don't have to worry. I've got a hold of you. And I won't ever let you fall beyond recovery."
God wants us to take our baby steps in moral living. He wants us to back over the side of the cliff and give it our all--just so we see how little our all really is. He wants us to get to the point where we relax, let go, and give our all to him--so that we can discover he has had us in his grip all along. Works, yes, beginning the rappel of the Christian life requires works, very feeble works that don't accomplish much of anything, works which lead us to the point of faith--where God does everything and we simply trust him.
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Glad you happened across my blog and liked the illustration!
Blessings,
Will