"It is not a question of a good man who died two thousand years ago. It is a living Man, still as much a man as you, and still as much God as He was when he created the world, really coming and interfering with your very self; killing the old natural self in you and replacing it with the kind of self He has. At first, only for moments. Then for longer periods. Finally, if all goes well, turning you permanently into a different sort of thing; into a new little Christ, a being which, in its own small way, has the same kind of life as God; which shares in His power, joy, knowledge and eternity." Mere Christianity
Handing my "old natural self" over to God to be killed, aye, there's the rub. For this handing over of the old self must be performed all over again every day. As C. S. Lewis says elsewhere, it is almost like the old self grows over one again while one sleeps. It is sort of like a scab which, every morning, must be ripped off again, the old hardened shell removed, so that the new self, in Christ, has room to grow.
Lewis gives us so many wonderful images of this process in his fiction. There is Eustace in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, who must have his dragon skin removed by the claws of Aslan so that he may be plunged into the cleansing flood of Aslan's pool and turned into a real little boy again.
Then there is the man with the lizard of lust on his shoulder in The Great Divorce. He must submit to the angel who wishes to kill the lizard with his burning hands. Only then can the lizard be turned into a great stallion which the man can ride into the rose brightness of everlasting morning.
In each case what is crucial is the person's choice to submit to the killing of the old self--a killing which can only be accomplished by God. And God is also the only one who can give us the new self, conformed to the image of Christ.
O God, as I awake to a new day, do your work afresh in my life today. I hand over the old self to you to be put to death. Pull off the dragon skin. Cleanse me with the water of life. Make me into a real person, a new little copy of Christ, who can share in your joy, your knowledge, your eternity, to the glory of your Triune name. Amen.
Handing my "old natural self" over to God to be killed, aye, there's the rub. For this handing over of the old self must be performed all over again every day. As C. S. Lewis says elsewhere, it is almost like the old self grows over one again while one sleeps. It is sort of like a scab which, every morning, must be ripped off again, the old hardened shell removed, so that the new self, in Christ, has room to grow.
Lewis gives us so many wonderful images of this process in his fiction. There is Eustace in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, who must have his dragon skin removed by the claws of Aslan so that he may be plunged into the cleansing flood of Aslan's pool and turned into a real little boy again.
Then there is the man with the lizard of lust on his shoulder in The Great Divorce. He must submit to the angel who wishes to kill the lizard with his burning hands. Only then can the lizard be turned into a great stallion which the man can ride into the rose brightness of everlasting morning.
In each case what is crucial is the person's choice to submit to the killing of the old self--a killing which can only be accomplished by God. And God is also the only one who can give us the new self, conformed to the image of Christ.
O God, as I awake to a new day, do your work afresh in my life today. I hand over the old self to you to be put to death. Pull off the dragon skin. Cleanse me with the water of life. Make me into a real person, a new little copy of Christ, who can share in your joy, your knowledge, your eternity, to the glory of your Triune name. Amen.
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