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Well that is of course what happens to us. Our life comes to us moment
by moment One moment disappears before the next comes along: and there is
room for very little in each. That is what Time is like. And of course you
and I tend to take it for granted that this Time series-this arrangement of
past, present and future-is not simply the way life comes to us but the way
all things really exist We tend to assume that the whole universe and God
Himself are always moving on from past to future just as we do. But many
learned men do not agree with that. It was the Theologians who first started
the idea that some things are not in Time at all: later the Philosophers
took it over: and now some of the scientists are doing the same.
Almost certainly God is not in Time. His life does not consist of
moments following one another. If a million people are praying to Him at
ten-thirty tonight, He need not listen to them all in that one little
snippet which we call ten-thirty. Ten-thirty-and every other moment from the
beginning of the world-is always the Present for Him. If you like to put it
that way, He has all eternity in which to listen to the split second of
prayer put up by a pilot as his plane crashes in flames.
That is difficult, I know. Let me try to give something, not the same,
but a bit like it. Suppose I am writing a novel. I write "Mary laid down her
work; next moment came a knock at the door!" For Mary who has to live in the
imaginary time of my story there is no interval between putting down the
work and hearing the knock. But I, who am Mary's maker, do not live in that
imaginary time at all. Between writing the first half of that sentence and
the second, I might sit down for three hours and think steadily about Mary.
I could think about Mary as if she were the only character in the book and
for as long as I pleased, and the hours I spent in doing so would not appear
in Mary's time (the time inside the story) at all.
This is not a perfect illustration, of course. But it may give just a
glimpse of what I believe to be the truth. God is not hurried along in the
Time-stream of this universe any more than an author is hurried along in the
imaginary time of his own novel He has infinite attention to spare for each
one of us. He does not have to deal with us in the mass. You are as much
alone with Him as if you were the only being He had ever created. When
Christ died, He died for you individually just as much as if you had been
the only man in the world.
The way in which my illustration breaks down is this. In it the author
gets out of one Time-series (that of the novel) only by going into another
Time-series (the real one). But God, I believe, does not live in a
Time-series at all. His life is not dribbled out moment by moment like ours:
with Him it is, so to speak, still 1920 and already 1960. For His life is
Himself.
If you picture Time as a straight line along which we have to travel,
then you must picture God as the whole page on which the line is drawn. We
come to the parts of the line one by one: we have to leave A behind before
we get to B, and cannot reach C until we leave B behind. God, from above or
outside or all round, contains the whole line, and sees it all.
The idea is worth trying to grasp because it removes some apparent
difficulties in Christianity. Before I became a Christian one of my
objections was as follows. The Christians said that the eternal God who is
everywhere and keeps the whole universe going, once became a human being.
Well then, said I, how did the whole universe keep going while He was a
baby, or while He was asleep? How could He at the same time be God who knows
everything and also a man asking his disciples "Who touched me?" You will
notice that the sting lay in the time words: "While He was a baby"-"How
could He at the same time?" In other words I was assuming that Christ's life
as God was in time, and that His life as the man Jesus in Palestine was a
shorter period taken out of that time-just as my service in the army was a
shorter period taken out of my total life. And that is how most of us
perhaps tend to think about it. We picture God living through a period when
His human life was still in the future: then coming to a period when it was
present: then going on to a period when He could look back on it as
something in the past. But probably these ideas correspond to nothing in the
actual facts. You cannot fit Christ's earthly life in Palestine into any
time-relations with His life as God beyond all space and time. It is really,
I suggest, a timeless truth about God that human nature, and the human
experience of weakness and sleep and ignorance, are somehow included in His
whole divine life. This human life in God is from our point of view a
particular period in the history of our world (from the year A.D. one till
the Crucifixion). We therefore imagine it is also a period in the history of
God's own existence. But God has no history. He is too completely and
utterly real to have one. For, of course, to have a history means losing
part of your reality (because it had already slipped away into the past) and
not yet having another part (because it is still in the future): in fact
having nothing but the tiny little present, which has gone before you can
speak about it. God forbid we should think God was like that. Even we may
hope not to be always rationed in that way.
Another difficulty we get if we believe God to be in time is this.
Everyone who believes in God at all believes that He knows what you and I
are going to do tomorrow. But if He knows I am going to do so-and-so, how
can I be free to do otherwise? Well, here once again, the difficulty comes
from thinking that God is progressing along the Time-line like us: the only
difference being that He can see ahead and we cannot. Well, if that were
true, if God foresaw our acts, it would be very hard to understand how we
could be free not to do them. But suppose God is outside and above the
Time-line. In that case, what we call "tomorrow" is visible to Him in just
the same way as what we call "today." All the days are "Now" for Him. He
does not remember you doing things yesterday; He simply sees you doing them,
because, though you have lost yesterday. He has not. He does not "foresee"
you doing things tomorrow; He simply sees you doing them: because, though
tomorrow is not yet there for you, it is for Him. You never supposed that
your actions at this moment were any less free because God knows what you
are doing. Well, He knows your tomorrow's actions in just the same
way-because He is already in tomorrow and can simply watch you. In a sense,
He does not know your action till you have done it: but then the moment at
which you have done it is already "Now" for Him.
This idea has helped me a good deal. If it does not help you, leave it
alone. It is a "Christian idea" in the sense that great and wise Christians
have held it and there is nothing in it contrary to Christianity. But it is
not in the Bible or any of the creeds. You can be a perfectly good Christian
without accepting it, or indeed without thinking of the matter at all
I begin this chapter by asking you to get a certain picture clear in
your minds. Imagine two books lying on a table one on top of the other.
Obviously the bottom book is keeping the other one up-supporting it. It is
because of the underneath book that the top one is resting, say, two inches
from the surface of the table instead of touching the table. Let us call the
underneath book A and the top one B. The position of A is causing the
position of B. That is clear? Now let us imagine-it could not really happen,
of course, but it will do for an illustration-let us imagine that both books
have been in that position for ever and ever. In that case B's position
would always have been resulting from A's position. But all the same, A's
position would not have existed before B's position. In other words the
result does not come after the cause. Of course, results usually do: you eat
the cucumber first and have the indigestion afterwards. But it is not so
with all causes, and results. You will see in a moment why I think this
important.
I said a few pages back that God is a Being which contains three
Persons while remaining one Being, just as a cube contains six squares while
remaining one body. But as soon as I begin trying to explain how these
Persons are connected I have to use words which make it sound as if one of
them was there before the others. The First Person is called the Father and
the Second the Son. We say that the First begets or produces the second; we
call it begetting, not making, because what He produces is of the same kind
as Himself. In that way the word Father is the only word to use. But
unfortunately it suggests that He is there first-just as a human father
exists before his son. But that is not so. There is no before and after
about it. And that is why I have spent some time trying to make clear how
one thing can be the source, or cause, or origin, of another without being
there before it. The Son exists because the Father exists: but there never
was a tune before the Father produced the Son.
Perhaps the best way to think of it is this. I asked you just now to
imagine those two books, and probably most of you did. That is, you made an
act of imagination and as a result you had a mental picture. Quite obviously
your act of imagining was the cause and the mental picture the result. But
that does not mean that you first did the imagining and then got the
picture. The moment you did it, the picture was there. Your will was keeping
the picture before you all the time. Yet that act of will and the picture
began at exactly the same moment and ended at the same moment. If there were
a Being who had always existed and had always been imagining one thing, his
act would always have been producing a mental picture; but the picture would
be just as eternal as the act.
In the same way we must think of the Son always, so to speak, streaming
forth from the Father, like light from a lamp, or heat from a fire, or
thoughts from a mind. He is the self-expression of the Father-what the
Father has to say. And there never was a time when He was not saying it. But
have you noticed what is happening? All these pictures of light or heat are
making it sound as if the Father and Son were two things instead of two
Persons. So that after all, the New Testament picture of a Father and a Son
turns out to be much more accurate than anything we try to substitute for it
That is what always happens when you go away from the words of the Bible. It
is quite right to go away from them for a moment in order to make some
special point clear. But you must always go back. Naturally God knows how to
describe Himself much better than we know how to describe Him. He knows that
Father and Son is more like the relation between the First and Second
Persons than anything else we can think of. Much the most important thing to
know is that it is a relation of love. The Father delights in His Son; the
Son looks up to His Father.
Before going on, notice the practical importance of this. All sorts of
people are fond of repeating the Christian statement that "God is love," But
they seem not to notice that the words "God is love" have no real meaning
unless God contains at least two Persons. Love is something that one person
has for another person. If God was a single person, then before the world
was made, He was not love. Of course, what these people mean when they say
that God is love is often something quite different: they really mean "Love
is God." They really mean that our feelings of love, however and wherever
they arise, and whatever results they produce, are to be treated with great
respect. Perhaps they are: but that is something quite different from what
Christians mean by the statement "God is love." They believe that the
living, dynamic activity of love has been going on in God for ever and has
created everything else.
And that, by the way, is perhaps the most important difference between
Christianity and all other religions: that in Christianity God is not a
static thing-not even a person-but a dynamic, pulsating activity, a life,
almost a kind of drama. Almost, if you will not think me irreverent, a kind
of dance. The union between the Father and Son is such a live concrete thing
that this union itself is also a Person. I know this is almost
inconceivable, but look at it thus. You know that among human beings, when
they get together in a family, or a club, or a trade union, people talk
about the "spirit" of that family, or club, or trade union. They talk about
its "spirit" because the individual members, when they are together, do
really develop particular ways of talking and behaving which they would not
have if they were apart. (*)
----
[*] This corporate behaviour may, of course, be either better or worse
than their individual behaviour.
----
It is as if a sort of communal personality came into existence. Of
course, it is not a real person: it is only rather like a person. But that
is just one of the differences between God and us. What grows out of the
joint life of the Father and Son is a real Person, is in fact the Third of
the three Persons who are God.
This third Person is called, in technical language, the Holy Ghost or
the "spirit" of God. Do not be worried or surprised if you find it (or Him)
rather vaguer or more shadowy in your mind than the other two. I think there
is a reason why that must be so. In the Christian life you are not usually
looking at Him: He is always acting through you. If you think of the Father
as something "out there," in front of you, and of the Son as someone
standing at your side, helping you to pray, trying to turn you into another
son, then you have to think of the third Person as something inside you, or
behind you. Perhaps some people might find it easier to begin with the third
Person and work backwards. God is love, and that love works through
men-especially through the whole community of Christians. But this spirit of
love is, from all eternity, a love going on between the Father and Son.
And now, what does it all matter? It matters more than anything else in
the world. The whole dance, or drama, or pattern of this three-Personal life
is to be played out in each one of us: or (putting it the other way round)
each one of us has got to enter that pattern, take his place in that dance.
There is no other way to the happiness for which we were made. Good things
as well as bad, you know, are caught by a kind of infection. If you want to
get warm you must stand near the fire: if you want to be wet you must get
into the water. If you want joy, power, peace, eternal life, you must get
close to, or even into, the thing that has them. They are not a sort of
prizes which God could, if He chose, just hand out to anyone. They are a
great fountain of energy and beauty spurting up at the very centre of
reality. If you are dose to it, the spray will wet you: if you are not, you
will remain dry. Once a man is united to God, how could he not live forever?
Once a man is separated from God, what can he do but wither and die?
But how is he to be united to God? How is it possible for us to be
taken into the three-Personal life?
You remember what I said in Chapter II about begetting and making. We
are not begotten by God, we are only made by Him: in our natural state we
are not sons of God, only (so to speak) statues. We have not got Zoe or
spiritual life: only Bios or biological life which is presently going to run
down and die. Now the whole offer which Christianity makes is this: that we
can, if we let God have His way, come to share in the life of Christ. If we
do, we shall then be sharing a life which was begotten, not made, which
always has existed and always will exist Christ is the Son of God. If we
share in this kind of life we also shall be sons of God. We shall love the
Father as He does and the Holy Ghost will arise in us. He came to this world
and became a man in order to spread to other men the kind of life He has-by
what I call "good infection." Every Christian is to become a little Christ.
The whole purpose of becoming a Christian is simply nothing else.
The Son of God became a man to enable men to become sons of God. We do
not know-anyway, I do not know-how things would have worked if the human
race had never rebelled against God and joined the enemy. Perhaps every man
would have been "in Christ," would have shared the life of the Son of God,
from the moment he was born. Perhaps the Bios or natural life would have
been drawn up into the Zoe, the uncreated life, at once and as a matter of
course. But that is guesswork. You and I are concerned with the way things
work now.
And the present state of things is this. The two kinds of life are now
not only different (they would always have been that) but actually opposed.
The natural life in each of us is something self-centred, something that
wants to be petted and admired, to take advantage of other lives, to exploit
the whole universe. And especially it wants to be left to itself: to keep
well away from anything better or stronger or higher than it, anything that
might make it feel small. It is afraid of the light and air of the spiritual
world, just as people who have been brought up to be dirty are afraid of a
bath. And in a sense it is quite right It knows that if the spiritual life
gets hold of it, all its self-centredness and self-will are going to be
killed and it is ready to fight tooth and nail to avoid that
Did you ever think, when you were a child, what fun it would be if your
toys could come to life? Well suppose you could really have brought them to
life. Imagine turning a tin soldier into a real little man. It would involve
turning the tin into flesh. And suppose the tin soldier did not like it He
is not interested in flesh; all he sees is that the tin is being spoilt He
thinks you are killing him. He will do everything he can to prevent you. He
will not be made into a man if he can help it.
What you would have done about that tin soldier I do not know. But what
God did about us was this. The Second Person in God, the Son, became human
Himself: was born into the world as an actual man-a real man of a particular
height, with hair of a particular colour, speaking a particular language,
weighing so many stone. The Eternal Being, who knows everything and who
created the whole universe, became not only a man but (before that) a baby,
and before that a foetus inside a Woman's body. If you want to get the hang
of it, think how you would like to become a slug or a crab.
The result of this was that you now had one man who really was what all
men were intended to be: one man in whom the created life, derived from his
Mother, allowed itself to be completely and perfectly turned into the
begotten life. The natural human creature in Him was taken up fully into the
divine Son. Thus in one instance humanity had, so to speak, arrived: had
passed into the life of Christ. And because the whole difficulty for us is
that the natural life has to be, in a sense, "killed," He chose an earthly
career which involved the killing of His human desires at every
turn-poverty, misunderstanding from His own family, betrayal by one of His
intimate friends, being jeered at and manhandled by the Police, and
execution by torture. And then, after being thus killed-killed every day in
a sense-the human creature in Him, because it was united to the divine Son,
came to life again. The Man in Christ rose again: not only the God. That is
the whole point For the first time we saw a real man. One tin soldier-real
tin, just like the rest-had come fully and splendidly alive.
And here, of course, we come to the point where my illustration about
the tin soldier breaks down. In the case of real toy soldiers or statues, if
one came to life, it would obviously make no difference to the rest. They
are all separate. But human beings are not. They look separate because you
see diem walking about separately. But then, we are so made that we can see
only the present moment. If we could see the past, then of course it would
look different. For there was a time when every man was part of his mother,
and (earlier still) part of his father as well: and when they were part of
his grandparents. If you could see humanity spread out in time, as God sees
it, it would not look like a lot of separate things dotted about. It would
look like one single growing thing- rather like a very complicated tree.
Every individual would appear connected with every other. And not only that.
Individuals are not really separate from God any more than from one another.
Every man, woman, and child all over the world is feeling and breathing at
this moment only because God, so to speak, is "keeping him going."
Consequently, when Christ becomes man it is not really as if you could
become one particular tin soldier. It is as if something which is always
affecting the whole human mass begins, at one point, to affect that whole
human mass in a new way. From that point the effect spreads through all
mankind. It makes a difference to people who lived before Christ as well as
to people who lived after Him. It makes a difference to people who have
never heard of Him. It is like dropping into a glass of water one drop of
something which gives a new taste or a new colour to the whole lot. But, of
course, none of these illustrations really works perfectly. In the long run
God is no one but Himself and what He does is like nothing else. You could
hardly expect it to be.
What, then, is the difference which He has made to the whole human
mass? It is just this; that the business of becoming a son of God, of being
turned from a created thing into a begotten thing, of passing over from the
temporary biological life into timeless "spiritual" life, has been done for
us. Humanity is already "saved" in principle. We individuals have to
appropriate that salvation. But the really tough work-the bit we could not
have done for ourselves-has been done for us. We have not got to try to
climb up into spiritual life by our own efforts; it has already come down
into the human race. If we will only lay ourselves open to the one Man in
whom it was fully present, and who, in spite of being God, is also a real
man, He will do it in us and for us. Remember what I said about "good
infection." One of our own race has this new life: if we get close to Him we
shall catch it from Him.
Of course, you can express this in all sorts of different ways. You can
say that Christ died for our sins. You may say that the Father has forgiven
us because Christ has done for us what we ought to have done. You may say
that we are washed in the blood of the Lamb. You may say that Christ has
defeated death. They are all true. If any of them do not appeal to you,
leave it alone and get on with the formula that does. And, whatever you do,
do not start quarrelling with other people because they use a different
formula from yours.
In order to avoid misunderstanding I here add notes on two points
arising out of the last chapter.
(1) One sensible critic wrote asking me why, if God wanted sons instead
of "toy soldiers," He did not beget many sons at the outset instead of first
making toy soldiers and then bringing them to life by such a difficult and
painful process. One part of the answer to this question is fairly easy: the
other part is probably beyond all human knowledge. The easy part is this.
The process of being turned from a creature into a son would not have been
difficult or painful if the human race had not turned away from God
centuries ago. They were able to do this because He gave them free will: He
gave them free will because a world of mere automata could never love and
therefore never know infinite happiness. The difficult part is this. All
Christians are agreed that there is, in the full and original sense, only
one "Son of God." If we insist on asking "But could there have been many?"
we find ourselves in very deep water. Have the words "Could have been" any
sense at all when applied to God? You can say that one particular finite
thing "could have been" different from what it is, because it would have
been different if something else had been different, and the something else
would have been different if some third thing had been different, and so on.
(The letters on this page would have been red if the printer had used red
ink, and he would have used red ink if he had been instructed to, and so
on.) But when you are talking about God-i.e. about the rock bottom,
irreducible Fact on which all other facts depend- it is nonsensical to ask
if It could have been otherwise. It is what It is, and there is an end of
the matter. But quite apart from this, I find a difficulty about the very
idea of the Father begetting many sons from all eternity. In order to be
many they would have to be somehow different from one another. Two pennies
have the same shape. How are they two? By occupying different places and
containing different atoms. In other words, to think of them as different,
we have had to bring in space and matter; in fact we have had to bring in
"Nature" or the created universe. I can understand the distinction between
the Father and the Son without bringing in space or matter, because the one
begets and the other is begotten. The Father's relation to the Son is not
the same as the Son's relation to the Father. But if there were several sons
they would all be related to one another and to the Father in the same way.
How would they differ from one another? One does not notice the difficulty
at first, of course. One thinks one can form the idea of several "sons." But
when I think closely, I find that the idea seemed possible only because I
was vaguely imagining them as human forms standing about together in some
kind of space. In other words, though I pretended to be thinking about
something that exists before any universe was made, I was really smuggling
in the picture of a universe and putting that something inside it. When I
stop doing that and still try to think of the Father begetting many sons
"before all worlds" I find I am not really thinking of anything. The idea
fades away into mere words. (Was Nature-space and time and matter-created
precisely in order to make manyness possible? Is there perhaps no other way
of getting many eternal spirits except by first making many natural
creatures, in a universe, and then spiritualising them? But of course all
this is guesswork.)
(2) The idea that the whole human race is, in a sense, one thing -one
huge organism, like a tree-must not be confused with the idea that
individual differences do not matter or that real people, Tom and Nobby and
Kate, are somehow less important than collective things like classes, races,
and so forth. Indeed the two ideas are opposites. Things which are parts of
a single organism may be very different from one another: things which are
not, may be very alike. Six pennies are quite separate and very alike: my
nose and my lungs are very different but they are only alive at all because
they are parts of my body and share its common life. Christianity thinks of
human individuals not as mere members of a group or items in a list, but as
organs in a body-different from one another and each contributing what no
other could. When you find yourself wanting to turn your children, or
pupils, or even your neighbours, into people exactly like yourself, remember
that God probably never meant them to be that. You and they are different
organs, intended to do different things. On the other hand, when you are
tempted not to bother about someone else's troubles because they are "no
business of yours," remember that though he is different from you he is part
of the same organism as you. If you forget that he belongs to the same
organism as yourself you will become an Individualist. If you forget that he
is a different organ from you, if you want to suppress differences and make
people all alike, you will become a Totalitarian. But a Christian must not
be either a Totalitarian or an Individualist.
I feel a strong desire to tell you-and I expect you feel a strong
desire to tell me-which of these two errors is the worse. That is the devil
getting at us. He always sends errors into the world in pairs-pairs of
opposites. And he always encourages us to spend a lot of time thinking which
is the worse. You see why, of course? He relies on your extra dislike of the
one error to draw you gradually into the opposite one. But do not let us be
fooled. We have to keep our eyes on the goal and go straight through between
both errors. We have no other concern than that with either of them.
May I once again start by putting two pictures, or two stories rather,
into your minds? One is the story you have all read called Beauty and the
Beast. The girl, you remember, had to marry a monster for some reason. And
she did. She kissed it as if it were a man. And then, much to her relief, it
really turned into a man and all went well. The other story is about someone
who had to wear a mask; a mask which made him look much nicer than he really
was. He had to wear it for year. And when he took it off he found his own
face had grown to fit it. He was now really beautiful. What had begun as
disguise had become a reality. I think both these stories may (in a fanciful
way, of course) help to illustrate what I have to say in this chapter. Up
till now, I have been trying to describe facts-what God is and what He has
done. Now I want to talk about practice-what do we do next? What difference
does all this theology make? It can start making a difference tonight. If
you are interested enough to have read thus far you are probably interested
enough to make a shot at saying your prayers: and, whatever else you say,
you will probably say the Lord's Prayer.
Its very first words are Our Father. Do you now see what those words
mean? They mean quite frankly, that you are putting yourself in the place of
a son of God. To put it bluntly, you are dressing up as Christ. If you like,
you are pretending. Because, of course, the moment you realise what the
words mean, you realise that you are not a son of God. You are not being
like The Son of God, whose will and interests are at one with those of the
Father: you are a bundle of self-centred fears, hopes, greeds, jealousies,
and self-conceit, all doomed to death. So that, in a way, this dressing up
as Christ is a piece of outrageous cheek. But the odd thing is that He has
ordered us to do it.
Why? What is the good of pretending to be what you are not? Well, even
on the human level, you know, there are two kinds of pretending. There is a
bad kind, where the pretence is there instead of the real thing; as when a
man pretends he is going to help you instead of really helping you. But
there is also a good kind, where the pretence leads up to the real thing.
When you are not feeling particularly friendly but know you ought to be, the
best thing you can do, very often, is to put on a friendly manner and behave
as if you were a nicer person than you actually are. And in a few minutes,
as we have all noticed, you will be really feeling friendlier than you were.
Very often the only way to get a quality in reality is to start behaving as
if you had it already. That is why children's games are so important. They
are always pretending to be grown-ups-playing soldiers, playing shop. But
all the time, they are hardening their muscles and sharpening their wits, so
that the pretence of being grown-up helps them to grow up in earnest.
Now, the moment you realise "Here I am, dressing up as Christ," it is
extremely likely that you will see at once some way in which at that very
moment the pretence could be made less of a pretence and more of a reality.
You will find several things going on in your mind which would not be going
on there if you were really a son of God. Well, stop them. Or you may
realise that, instead of saying your prayers, you ought to be downstairs
writing a letter, or helping your wife to wash-up. Well, go and do it.
You see what is happening. The Christ Himself, the Son of God who is
man (just like you) and God (just like His Father) is actually at your side
and is already at that moment beginning to turn your pretence into a
reality. This is not merely a fancy way of saying that your conscience is
telling you what to do. If you simply ask your conscience, you get one
result: if you remember that you are dressing up as Christ, you get a
different one. There are lots of things which your conscience might not call
definitely wrong (specially things in your mind) but which you will see at
once you cannot go on doing if you are seriously trying to be like Christ.
For you are no longer thinking simply about right and wrong; you are trying
to catch the good infection from a Person. It is more like painting a
portrait than like obeying a set of rules. And the odd thing is that while
in one way it is much harder than keeping rules, in another way it is far
easier.
The real Son of God is at your side. He is beginning to turn you into
the same kind of thing as Himself. He is beginning, so to speak, to "inject"
His kind of life and thought, His Zoe, into you; beginning to turn the tin
soldier into a live man. The part of you that does not like it is the part
that is still tin.
Some of you may feel that this is very unlike your own experience. You
may say "I've never had the sense of being helped by an invisible Christ,
but I often have been helped by other human beings." That is rather like the
woman in the first war who said that if there were a bread shortage it would
not bother her house because they always ate toast. If there is no bread
there will be no toast. If there were no help from Christ, there would be no
help from other human beings. He works on us in all sorts of ways: not only
through what we think our "religious life." He works through Nature, through
our own bodies, through books, sometimes through experiences which seem (at
the time) anti-Christian. When a young man who has been going to church in a
routine way honestly realises that he does not believe in Christianity and
stops going-provided he does it for honesty's sake and not just to annoy his
parents-the spirit of Christ is probably nearer to him then than it ever was
before. But above all, He works on us through each other.
Men are mirrors, or "carriers" of Christ to other men. Sometimes
unconscious carriers. This "good infection" can be carried by those who have
not got it themselves. People who were not Christians themselves helped me
to Christianity. But usually it is those who know Him that bring Him to
others. That is why the Church, the whole body of Christians showing Him to
one another, is so important. You might say that when two Christians are
following Christ together there is not twice as much Christianity as when
they are apart, but sixteen times as much.
But do not forget this. At first it is natural for a baby to take its
mother's milk without knowing its mother. It is equally natural for us to
see the man who helps us without seeing Christ behind him. But we must not
remain babies. We must go on to recognise the real Giver. It is madness not
to. Because, if we do not, we shall be relying on human beings. And that is
going to let us down. The best of them will make mistakes; all of them will
die. We must be thankful to all the people who have helped us, we must
honour them and love them. But never, never pin your whole faith on any
human being: not if he is the best and wisest in the whole world. There are
lots of nice things you can do with sand; but do not try building a house on
it.
And now we begin to see what it is that the New Testament is always
talking about. It talks about Christians "being born again"; it talks about
them "putting on Christ"; about Christ "being formed in us"; about our
coming to "have the mind of Christ."
Put right out of your head the idea that these are only fancy ways of
saying that Christians are to read what Christ said and try to carry it
out-as a man may read what Plato or Marx said and try to carry it out. They
mean something much more than that. They mean that a real Person, Christ,
here and now, in that very room where you are saying your prayers, is doing
things to you. 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. And soon we make two other discoveries.
(1) We begin to notice, besides our particular sinful acts, our
sinfulness; begin to be alarmed not only about what we do, but about what we
are. This may sound rather difficult, so I will try to make it clear from my
own case. When I come to my evening prayers and try to reckon up the sins of
the day, nine times out of ten the most obvious one is some sin against
charity; I have sulked or snapped or sneered or snubbed or stormed. And the
excuse that immediately springs to my mind is that the provocation was so
sudden and unexpected: I was caught off my guard, I had not time to collect
myself. Now that may be an extenuating circumstance as regards those
particular acts: they would obviously be worse if they had been deliberate
and premeditated. On the other hand, surely what a man does when he is taken
off his guard is the best evidence for what sort of a man he is? Surely what
pops out before the man has time to put on a disguise is the truth? If there
are rats in a cellar you are most likely to see them if you go in very
suddenly. But the suddenness does not create the rats: it only prevents them
from hiding. In the same way the suddenness of the provocation does not make
me an ill-tempered man: it only shows me what an ill-tempered man I am. The
rats are always there in the cellar, but if you go in shouting and noisily
they will have taken cover before you switch on the light. Apparently the
rats of resentment and vindictiveness are always there in the cellar of my
soul. Now that cellar is out of reach of my conscious will. I can to some
extent control my acts: I have no direct control over my temperament. And if
(as I said before) what we are matters even more than what we do-if, indeed,
what we do matters chiefly as evidence of what we are-then it follows that
the change which I most need to undergo is a change that my own direct,
voluntary efforts cannot bring about And this applies to my good actions
too. How many of them were done for the right motive? How many for fear of
public opinion, or a desire to show off? How many from a sort of obstinacy
or sense of superiority which, in different circumstances, might equally had
led to some very bad act? But I cannot, by direct moral effort, give myself
new motives. After the first few steps in the Christian life we realise that
everything which really needs to be done in our souls can be done only by
God. And that brings us to something which has been very misleading in my
language up to now.
(2) I have been talking as if it were we who did everything. In
reality, of course, it is God who does everything. We, at most, allow it to
be done to us. In a sense you might even say it is God who does the
pretending. The Three-Personal God, so to speak, sees before Him in fact a
self-centred, greedy, grumbling, rebellious human animal. But He says "Let
us pretend that this is not a mere creature, but our Son. It is like Christ
in so far as it is a Man, for He became Man. Let us pretend that it is also
like Him in Spirit. Let us treat it as if it were what in fact it is not.
Let us pretend in order to make the pretence into a reality." God looks at
you as if you were a little Christ: Christ stands beside you to turn you
into one. I daresay this idea of a divine make-believe sounds rather strange
at first. But, is it so strange really? Is not that how the higher thing
always raises the lower? A mother teaches her baby to talk by talking to it
as if it understood long before it really does. We treat our dogs as if they
were "almost human": that is why they really become "almost human" in the
end.
In the last chapter we were considering the Christian idea of "putting
on Christ," or first "dressing up" as a son of God in order that you may
finally become a real son. What I want to make clear is that this is not one
among many jobs a Christian has to do; and it is not a sort of special
exercise for the top class. It is the whole of Christianity. Christianity
offers nothing else at all. And I should like to point out how it differs
from ordinary ideas of "morality" and "being good."
The ordinary idea which we all have before we become Christians is
this. We take as starting point our ordinary self with its various desires
and interests. We then admit that something else call it "morality" or
"decent behaviour," or "the good of society" has claims on this self: claims
which interfere with its own desires. What we mean by "being good" is giving
in to those claims. Some of the things the ordinary self wanted to do turn
out to be what we call "wrong": well, we must give them up. Other things,
which the self did not want to do, turn out to be what we call "right":
well, we shall have to do them. But we are hoping all the time that when all
the demands have been met, the poor natural self will still have some
chance, and some time, to get on with its own life and do what it likes. In
fact, we are very like an honest man paying his taxes. He pays them all
right, but he does hope that there will be enough left over for him to live
on. Because we are still taking our natural self as the starting point.
As long as we are thinking that way, one or other of two results is
likely to follow. Either we give up trying to be good, or else we become
very unhappy indeed. For, make no mistake: if you are really going to try to
meet all the demands made on the natural self, it will not have enough left
over to live on. The more you obey your conscience, the more your conscience
will demand of you. And your natural self, which is thus being starved and
hampered and worried at every turn, will get angrier and angrier. In the
end, you will either give up trying to be good, or else become one of those
people who, as they say, "live for others" but always in a discontented,
grumbling way-always wondering why the others do not notice it more and
always making a martyr of yourself. And once you have become that you will
be a far greater pest to anyone who has to live with you than you would have
been if you had remained frankly selfish.
The Christian way is different: harder, and easier. Christ says "Give
me All. I don't want so much of your time and so much of your money and so
much of your work: I want You. I have not come to torment your natural self,
but to kill it. No half-measures are any good. I don't want to cut off a
branch here and a branch there, I want to have the whole tree down. I don't
want to drill the tooth, or crown it, or stop it, but to have it out. Hand
over the whole natural self, all the desires which you think innocent as
well as the ones you think wicked-the whole outfit. I will give you a new
self instead. In fact, I will give you Myself: my own will shall become
yours."
Both harder and easier than what we are all trying to do. You have
noticed, I expect, that Christ Himself sometimes describes the Christian way
as very hard, sometimes as very easy. He says, "Take up your Cross"-in other
by moment One moment disappears before the next comes along: and there is
room for very little in each. That is what Time is like. And of course you
and I tend to take it for granted that this Time series-this arrangement of
past, present and future-is not simply the way life comes to us but the way
all things really exist We tend to assume that the whole universe and God
Himself are always moving on from past to future just as we do. But many
learned men do not agree with that. It was the Theologians who first started
the idea that some things are not in Time at all: later the Philosophers
took it over: and now some of the scientists are doing the same.
Almost certainly God is not in Time. His life does not consist of
moments following one another. If a million people are praying to Him at
ten-thirty tonight, He need not listen to them all in that one little
snippet which we call ten-thirty. Ten-thirty-and every other moment from the
beginning of the world-is always the Present for Him. If you like to put it
that way, He has all eternity in which to listen to the split second of
prayer put up by a pilot as his plane crashes in flames.
That is difficult, I know. Let me try to give something, not the same,
but a bit like it. Suppose I am writing a novel. I write "Mary laid down her
work; next moment came a knock at the door!" For Mary who has to live in the
imaginary time of my story there is no interval between putting down the
work and hearing the knock. But I, who am Mary's maker, do not live in that
imaginary time at all. Between writing the first half of that sentence and
the second, I might sit down for three hours and think steadily about Mary.
I could think about Mary as if she were the only character in the book and
for as long as I pleased, and the hours I spent in doing so would not appear
in Mary's time (the time inside the story) at all.
This is not a perfect illustration, of course. But it may give just a
glimpse of what I believe to be the truth. God is not hurried along in the
Time-stream of this universe any more than an author is hurried along in the
imaginary time of his own novel He has infinite attention to spare for each
one of us. He does not have to deal with us in the mass. You are as much
alone with Him as if you were the only being He had ever created. When
Christ died, He died for you individually just as much as if you had been
the only man in the world.
The way in which my illustration breaks down is this. In it the author
gets out of one Time-series (that of the novel) only by going into another
Time-series (the real one). But God, I believe, does not live in a
Time-series at all. His life is not dribbled out moment by moment like ours:
with Him it is, so to speak, still 1920 and already 1960. For His life is
Himself.
If you picture Time as a straight line along which we have to travel,
then you must picture God as the whole page on which the line is drawn. We
come to the parts of the line one by one: we have to leave A behind before
we get to B, and cannot reach C until we leave B behind. God, from above or
outside or all round, contains the whole line, and sees it all.
The idea is worth trying to grasp because it removes some apparent
difficulties in Christianity. Before I became a Christian one of my
objections was as follows. The Christians said that the eternal God who is
everywhere and keeps the whole universe going, once became a human being.
Well then, said I, how did the whole universe keep going while He was a
baby, or while He was asleep? How could He at the same time be God who knows
everything and also a man asking his disciples "Who touched me?" You will
notice that the sting lay in the time words: "While He was a baby"-"How
could He at the same time?" In other words I was assuming that Christ's life
as God was in time, and that His life as the man Jesus in Palestine was a
shorter period taken out of that time-just as my service in the army was a
shorter period taken out of my total life. And that is how most of us
perhaps tend to think about it. We picture God living through a period when
His human life was still in the future: then coming to a period when it was
present: then going on to a period when He could look back on it as
something in the past. But probably these ideas correspond to nothing in the
actual facts. You cannot fit Christ's earthly life in Palestine into any
time-relations with His life as God beyond all space and time. It is really,
I suggest, a timeless truth about God that human nature, and the human
experience of weakness and sleep and ignorance, are somehow included in His
whole divine life. This human life in God is from our point of view a
particular period in the history of our world (from the year A.D. one till
the Crucifixion). We therefore imagine it is also a period in the history of
God's own existence. But God has no history. He is too completely and
utterly real to have one. For, of course, to have a history means losing
part of your reality (because it had already slipped away into the past) and
not yet having another part (because it is still in the future): in fact
having nothing but the tiny little present, which has gone before you can
speak about it. God forbid we should think God was like that. Even we may
hope not to be always rationed in that way.
Another difficulty we get if we believe God to be in time is this.
Everyone who believes in God at all believes that He knows what you and I
are going to do tomorrow. But if He knows I am going to do so-and-so, how
can I be free to do otherwise? Well, here once again, the difficulty comes
from thinking that God is progressing along the Time-line like us: the only
difference being that He can see ahead and we cannot. Well, if that were
true, if God foresaw our acts, it would be very hard to understand how we
could be free not to do them. But suppose God is outside and above the
Time-line. In that case, what we call "tomorrow" is visible to Him in just
the same way as what we call "today." All the days are "Now" for Him. He
does not remember you doing things yesterday; He simply sees you doing them,
because, though you have lost yesterday. He has not. He does not "foresee"
you doing things tomorrow; He simply sees you doing them: because, though
tomorrow is not yet there for you, it is for Him. You never supposed that
your actions at this moment were any less free because God knows what you
are doing. Well, He knows your tomorrow's actions in just the same
way-because He is already in tomorrow and can simply watch you. In a sense,
He does not know your action till you have done it: but then the moment at
which you have done it is already "Now" for Him.
This idea has helped me a good deal. If it does not help you, leave it
alone. It is a "Christian idea" in the sense that great and wise Christians
have held it and there is nothing in it contrary to Christianity. But it is
not in the Bible or any of the creeds. You can be a perfectly good Christian
without accepting it, or indeed without thinking of the matter at all
I begin this chapter by asking you to get a certain picture clear in
your minds. Imagine two books lying on a table one on top of the other.
Obviously the bottom book is keeping the other one up-supporting it. It is
because of the underneath book that the top one is resting, say, two inches
from the surface of the table instead of touching the table. Let us call the
underneath book A and the top one B. The position of A is causing the
position of B. That is clear? Now let us imagine-it could not really happen,
of course, but it will do for an illustration-let us imagine that both books
have been in that position for ever and ever. In that case B's position
would always have been resulting from A's position. But all the same, A's
position would not have existed before B's position. In other words the
result does not come after the cause. Of course, results usually do: you eat
the cucumber first and have the indigestion afterwards. But it is not so
with all causes, and results. You will see in a moment why I think this
important.
I said a few pages back that God is a Being which contains three
Persons while remaining one Being, just as a cube contains six squares while
remaining one body. But as soon as I begin trying to explain how these
Persons are connected I have to use words which make it sound as if one of
them was there before the others. The First Person is called the Father and
the Second the Son. We say that the First begets or produces the second; we
call it begetting, not making, because what He produces is of the same kind
as Himself. In that way the word Father is the only word to use. But
unfortunately it suggests that He is there first-just as a human father
exists before his son. But that is not so. There is no before and after
about it. And that is why I have spent some time trying to make clear how
one thing can be the source, or cause, or origin, of another without being
there before it. The Son exists because the Father exists: but there never
was a tune before the Father produced the Son.
Perhaps the best way to think of it is this. I asked you just now to
imagine those two books, and probably most of you did. That is, you made an
act of imagination and as a result you had a mental picture. Quite obviously
your act of imagining was the cause and the mental picture the result. But
that does not mean that you first did the imagining and then got the
picture. The moment you did it, the picture was there. Your will was keeping
the picture before you all the time. Yet that act of will and the picture
began at exactly the same moment and ended at the same moment. If there were
a Being who had always existed and had always been imagining one thing, his
act would always have been producing a mental picture; but the picture would
be just as eternal as the act.
In the same way we must think of the Son always, so to speak, streaming
forth from the Father, like light from a lamp, or heat from a fire, or
thoughts from a mind. He is the self-expression of the Father-what the
Father has to say. And there never was a time when He was not saying it. But
have you noticed what is happening? All these pictures of light or heat are
making it sound as if the Father and Son were two things instead of two
Persons. So that after all, the New Testament picture of a Father and a Son
turns out to be much more accurate than anything we try to substitute for it
That is what always happens when you go away from the words of the Bible. It
is quite right to go away from them for a moment in order to make some
special point clear. But you must always go back. Naturally God knows how to
describe Himself much better than we know how to describe Him. He knows that
Father and Son is more like the relation between the First and Second
Persons than anything else we can think of. Much the most important thing to
know is that it is a relation of love. The Father delights in His Son; the
Son looks up to His Father.
Before going on, notice the practical importance of this. All sorts of
people are fond of repeating the Christian statement that "God is love," But
they seem not to notice that the words "God is love" have no real meaning
unless God contains at least two Persons. Love is something that one person
has for another person. If God was a single person, then before the world
was made, He was not love. Of course, what these people mean when they say
that God is love is often something quite different: they really mean "Love
is God." They really mean that our feelings of love, however and wherever
they arise, and whatever results they produce, are to be treated with great
respect. Perhaps they are: but that is something quite different from what
Christians mean by the statement "God is love." They believe that the
living, dynamic activity of love has been going on in God for ever and has
created everything else.
And that, by the way, is perhaps the most important difference between
Christianity and all other religions: that in Christianity God is not a
static thing-not even a person-but a dynamic, pulsating activity, a life,
almost a kind of drama. Almost, if you will not think me irreverent, a kind
of dance. The union between the Father and Son is such a live concrete thing
that this union itself is also a Person. I know this is almost
inconceivable, but look at it thus. You know that among human beings, when
they get together in a family, or a club, or a trade union, people talk
about the "spirit" of that family, or club, or trade union. They talk about
its "spirit" because the individual members, when they are together, do
really develop particular ways of talking and behaving which they would not
have if they were apart. (*)
----
[*] This corporate behaviour may, of course, be either better or worse
than their individual behaviour.
----
It is as if a sort of communal personality came into existence. Of
course, it is not a real person: it is only rather like a person. But that
is just one of the differences between God and us. What grows out of the
joint life of the Father and Son is a real Person, is in fact the Third of
the three Persons who are God.
This third Person is called, in technical language, the Holy Ghost or
the "spirit" of God. Do not be worried or surprised if you find it (or Him)
rather vaguer or more shadowy in your mind than the other two. I think there
is a reason why that must be so. In the Christian life you are not usually
looking at Him: He is always acting through you. If you think of the Father
as something "out there," in front of you, and of the Son as someone
standing at your side, helping you to pray, trying to turn you into another
son, then you have to think of the third Person as something inside you, or
behind you. Perhaps some people might find it easier to begin with the third
Person and work backwards. God is love, and that love works through
men-especially through the whole community of Christians. But this spirit of
love is, from all eternity, a love going on between the Father and Son.
And now, what does it all matter? It matters more than anything else in
the world. The whole dance, or drama, or pattern of this three-Personal life
is to be played out in each one of us: or (putting it the other way round)
each one of us has got to enter that pattern, take his place in that dance.
There is no other way to the happiness for which we were made. Good things
as well as bad, you know, are caught by a kind of infection. If you want to
get warm you must stand near the fire: if you want to be wet you must get
into the water. If you want joy, power, peace, eternal life, you must get
close to, or even into, the thing that has them. They are not a sort of
prizes which God could, if He chose, just hand out to anyone. They are a
great fountain of energy and beauty spurting up at the very centre of
reality. If you are dose to it, the spray will wet you: if you are not, you
will remain dry. Once a man is united to God, how could he not live forever?
Once a man is separated from God, what can he do but wither and die?
But how is he to be united to God? How is it possible for us to be
taken into the three-Personal life?
You remember what I said in Chapter II about begetting and making. We
are not begotten by God, we are only made by Him: in our natural state we
are not sons of God, only (so to speak) statues. We have not got Zoe or
spiritual life: only Bios or biological life which is presently going to run
down and die. Now the whole offer which Christianity makes is this: that we
can, if we let God have His way, come to share in the life of Christ. If we
do, we shall then be sharing a life which was begotten, not made, which
always has existed and always will exist Christ is the Son of God. If we
share in this kind of life we also shall be sons of God. We shall love the
Father as He does and the Holy Ghost will arise in us. He came to this world
and became a man in order to spread to other men the kind of life He has-by
what I call "good infection." Every Christian is to become a little Christ.
The whole purpose of becoming a Christian is simply nothing else.
The Son of God became a man to enable men to become sons of God. We do
not know-anyway, I do not know-how things would have worked if the human
race had never rebelled against God and joined the enemy. Perhaps every man
would have been "in Christ," would have shared the life of the Son of God,
from the moment he was born. Perhaps the Bios or natural life would have
been drawn up into the Zoe, the uncreated life, at once and as a matter of
course. But that is guesswork. You and I are concerned with the way things
work now.
And the present state of things is this. The two kinds of life are now
not only different (they would always have been that) but actually opposed.
The natural life in each of us is something self-centred, something that
wants to be petted and admired, to take advantage of other lives, to exploit
the whole universe. And especially it wants to be left to itself: to keep
well away from anything better or stronger or higher than it, anything that
might make it feel small. It is afraid of the light and air of the spiritual
world, just as people who have been brought up to be dirty are afraid of a
bath. And in a sense it is quite right It knows that if the spiritual life
gets hold of it, all its self-centredness and self-will are going to be
killed and it is ready to fight tooth and nail to avoid that
Did you ever think, when you were a child, what fun it would be if your
toys could come to life? Well suppose you could really have brought them to
life. Imagine turning a tin soldier into a real little man. It would involve
turning the tin into flesh. And suppose the tin soldier did not like it He
is not interested in flesh; all he sees is that the tin is being spoilt He
thinks you are killing him. He will do everything he can to prevent you. He
will not be made into a man if he can help it.
What you would have done about that tin soldier I do not know. But what
God did about us was this. The Second Person in God, the Son, became human
Himself: was born into the world as an actual man-a real man of a particular
height, with hair of a particular colour, speaking a particular language,
weighing so many stone. The Eternal Being, who knows everything and who
created the whole universe, became not only a man but (before that) a baby,
and before that a foetus inside a Woman's body. If you want to get the hang
of it, think how you would like to become a slug or a crab.
The result of this was that you now had one man who really was what all
men were intended to be: one man in whom the created life, derived from his
Mother, allowed itself to be completely and perfectly turned into the
begotten life. The natural human creature in Him was taken up fully into the
divine Son. Thus in one instance humanity had, so to speak, arrived: had
passed into the life of Christ. And because the whole difficulty for us is
that the natural life has to be, in a sense, "killed," He chose an earthly
career which involved the killing of His human desires at every
turn-poverty, misunderstanding from His own family, betrayal by one of His
intimate friends, being jeered at and manhandled by the Police, and
execution by torture. And then, after being thus killed-killed every day in
a sense-the human creature in Him, because it was united to the divine Son,
came to life again. The Man in Christ rose again: not only the God. That is
the whole point For the first time we saw a real man. One tin soldier-real
tin, just like the rest-had come fully and splendidly alive.
And here, of course, we come to the point where my illustration about
the tin soldier breaks down. In the case of real toy soldiers or statues, if
one came to life, it would obviously make no difference to the rest. They
are all separate. But human beings are not. They look separate because you
see diem walking about separately. But then, we are so made that we can see
only the present moment. If we could see the past, then of course it would
look different. For there was a time when every man was part of his mother,
and (earlier still) part of his father as well: and when they were part of
his grandparents. If you could see humanity spread out in time, as God sees
it, it would not look like a lot of separate things dotted about. It would
look like one single growing thing- rather like a very complicated tree.
Every individual would appear connected with every other. And not only that.
Individuals are not really separate from God any more than from one another.
Every man, woman, and child all over the world is feeling and breathing at
this moment only because God, so to speak, is "keeping him going."
Consequently, when Christ becomes man it is not really as if you could
become one particular tin soldier. It is as if something which is always
affecting the whole human mass begins, at one point, to affect that whole
human mass in a new way. From that point the effect spreads through all
mankind. It makes a difference to people who lived before Christ as well as
to people who lived after Him. It makes a difference to people who have
never heard of Him. It is like dropping into a glass of water one drop of
something which gives a new taste or a new colour to the whole lot. But, of
course, none of these illustrations really works perfectly. In the long run
God is no one but Himself and what He does is like nothing else. You could
hardly expect it to be.
What, then, is the difference which He has made to the whole human
mass? It is just this; that the business of becoming a son of God, of being
turned from a created thing into a begotten thing, of passing over from the
temporary biological life into timeless "spiritual" life, has been done for
us. Humanity is already "saved" in principle. We individuals have to
appropriate that salvation. But the really tough work-the bit we could not
have done for ourselves-has been done for us. We have not got to try to
climb up into spiritual life by our own efforts; it has already come down
into the human race. If we will only lay ourselves open to the one Man in
whom it was fully present, and who, in spite of being God, is also a real
man, He will do it in us and for us. Remember what I said about "good
infection." One of our own race has this new life: if we get close to Him we
shall catch it from Him.
Of course, you can express this in all sorts of different ways. You can
say that Christ died for our sins. You may say that the Father has forgiven
us because Christ has done for us what we ought to have done. You may say
that we are washed in the blood of the Lamb. You may say that Christ has
defeated death. They are all true. If any of them do not appeal to you,
leave it alone and get on with the formula that does. And, whatever you do,
do not start quarrelling with other people because they use a different
formula from yours.
In order to avoid misunderstanding I here add notes on two points
arising out of the last chapter.
(1) One sensible critic wrote asking me why, if God wanted sons instead
of "toy soldiers," He did not beget many sons at the outset instead of first
making toy soldiers and then bringing them to life by such a difficult and
painful process. One part of the answer to this question is fairly easy: the
other part is probably beyond all human knowledge. The easy part is this.
The process of being turned from a creature into a son would not have been
difficult or painful if the human race had not turned away from God
centuries ago. They were able to do this because He gave them free will: He
gave them free will because a world of mere automata could never love and
therefore never know infinite happiness. The difficult part is this. All
Christians are agreed that there is, in the full and original sense, only
one "Son of God." If we insist on asking "But could there have been many?"
we find ourselves in very deep water. Have the words "Could have been" any
sense at all when applied to God? You can say that one particular finite
thing "could have been" different from what it is, because it would have
been different if something else had been different, and the something else
would have been different if some third thing had been different, and so on.
(The letters on this page would have been red if the printer had used red
ink, and he would have used red ink if he had been instructed to, and so
on.) But when you are talking about God-i.e. about the rock bottom,
irreducible Fact on which all other facts depend- it is nonsensical to ask
if It could have been otherwise. It is what It is, and there is an end of
the matter. But quite apart from this, I find a difficulty about the very
idea of the Father begetting many sons from all eternity. In order to be
many they would have to be somehow different from one another. Two pennies
have the same shape. How are they two? By occupying different places and
containing different atoms. In other words, to think of them as different,
we have had to bring in space and matter; in fact we have had to bring in
"Nature" or the created universe. I can understand the distinction between
the Father and the Son without bringing in space or matter, because the one
begets and the other is begotten. The Father's relation to the Son is not
the same as the Son's relation to the Father. But if there were several sons
they would all be related to one another and to the Father in the same way.
How would they differ from one another? One does not notice the difficulty
at first, of course. One thinks one can form the idea of several "sons." But
when I think closely, I find that the idea seemed possible only because I
was vaguely imagining them as human forms standing about together in some
kind of space. In other words, though I pretended to be thinking about
something that exists before any universe was made, I was really smuggling
in the picture of a universe and putting that something inside it. When I
stop doing that and still try to think of the Father begetting many sons
"before all worlds" I find I am not really thinking of anything. The idea
fades away into mere words. (Was Nature-space and time and matter-created
precisely in order to make manyness possible? Is there perhaps no other way
of getting many eternal spirits except by first making many natural
creatures, in a universe, and then spiritualising them? But of course all
this is guesswork.)
(2) The idea that the whole human race is, in a sense, one thing -one
huge organism, like a tree-must not be confused with the idea that
individual differences do not matter or that real people, Tom and Nobby and
Kate, are somehow less important than collective things like classes, races,
and so forth. Indeed the two ideas are opposites. Things which are parts of
a single organism may be very different from one another: things which are
not, may be very alike. Six pennies are quite separate and very alike: my
nose and my lungs are very different but they are only alive at all because
they are parts of my body and share its common life. Christianity thinks of
human individuals not as mere members of a group or items in a list, but as
organs in a body-different from one another and each contributing what no
other could. When you find yourself wanting to turn your children, or
pupils, or even your neighbours, into people exactly like yourself, remember
that God probably never meant them to be that. You and they are different
organs, intended to do different things. On the other hand, when you are
tempted not to bother about someone else's troubles because they are "no
business of yours," remember that though he is different from you he is part
of the same organism as you. If you forget that he belongs to the same
organism as yourself you will become an Individualist. If you forget that he
is a different organ from you, if you want to suppress differences and make
people all alike, you will become a Totalitarian. But a Christian must not
be either a Totalitarian or an Individualist.
I feel a strong desire to tell you-and I expect you feel a strong
desire to tell me-which of these two errors is the worse. That is the devil
getting at us. He always sends errors into the world in pairs-pairs of
opposites. And he always encourages us to spend a lot of time thinking which
is the worse. You see why, of course? He relies on your extra dislike of the
one error to draw you gradually into the opposite one. But do not let us be
fooled. We have to keep our eyes on the goal and go straight through between
both errors. We have no other concern than that with either of them.
May I once again start by putting two pictures, or two stories rather,
into your minds? One is the story you have all read called Beauty and the
Beast. The girl, you remember, had to marry a monster for some reason. And
she did. She kissed it as if it were a man. And then, much to her relief, it
really turned into a man and all went well. The other story is about someone
who had to wear a mask; a mask which made him look much nicer than he really
was. He had to wear it for year. And when he took it off he found his own
face had grown to fit it. He was now really beautiful. What had begun as
disguise had become a reality. I think both these stories may (in a fanciful
way, of course) help to illustrate what I have to say in this chapter. Up
till now, I have been trying to describe facts-what God is and what He has
done. Now I want to talk about practice-what do we do next? What difference
does all this theology make? It can start making a difference tonight. If
you are interested enough to have read thus far you are probably interested
enough to make a shot at saying your prayers: and, whatever else you say,
you will probably say the Lord's Prayer.
Its very first words are Our Father. Do you now see what those words
mean? They mean quite frankly, that you are putting yourself in the place of
a son of God. To put it bluntly, you are dressing up as Christ. If you like,
you are pretending. Because, of course, the moment you realise what the
words mean, you realise that you are not a son of God. You are not being
like The Son of God, whose will and interests are at one with those of the
Father: you are a bundle of self-centred fears, hopes, greeds, jealousies,
and self-conceit, all doomed to death. So that, in a way, this dressing up
as Christ is a piece of outrageous cheek. But the odd thing is that He has
ordered us to do it.
Why? What is the good of pretending to be what you are not? Well, even
on the human level, you know, there are two kinds of pretending. There is a
bad kind, where the pretence is there instead of the real thing; as when a
man pretends he is going to help you instead of really helping you. But
there is also a good kind, where the pretence leads up to the real thing.
When you are not feeling particularly friendly but know you ought to be, the
best thing you can do, very often, is to put on a friendly manner and behave
as if you were a nicer person than you actually are. And in a few minutes,
as we have all noticed, you will be really feeling friendlier than you were.
Very often the only way to get a quality in reality is to start behaving as
if you had it already. That is why children's games are so important. They
are always pretending to be grown-ups-playing soldiers, playing shop. But
all the time, they are hardening their muscles and sharpening their wits, so
that the pretence of being grown-up helps them to grow up in earnest.
Now, the moment you realise "Here I am, dressing up as Christ," it is
extremely likely that you will see at once some way in which at that very
moment the pretence could be made less of a pretence and more of a reality.
You will find several things going on in your mind which would not be going
on there if you were really a son of God. Well, stop them. Or you may
realise that, instead of saying your prayers, you ought to be downstairs
writing a letter, or helping your wife to wash-up. Well, go and do it.
You see what is happening. The Christ Himself, the Son of God who is
man (just like you) and God (just like His Father) is actually at your side
and is already at that moment beginning to turn your pretence into a
reality. This is not merely a fancy way of saying that your conscience is
telling you what to do. If you simply ask your conscience, you get one
result: if you remember that you are dressing up as Christ, you get a
different one. There are lots of things which your conscience might not call
definitely wrong (specially things in your mind) but which you will see at
once you cannot go on doing if you are seriously trying to be like Christ.
For you are no longer thinking simply about right and wrong; you are trying
to catch the good infection from a Person. It is more like painting a
portrait than like obeying a set of rules. And the odd thing is that while
in one way it is much harder than keeping rules, in another way it is far
easier.
The real Son of God is at your side. He is beginning to turn you into
the same kind of thing as Himself. He is beginning, so to speak, to "inject"
His kind of life and thought, His Zoe, into you; beginning to turn the tin
soldier into a live man. The part of you that does not like it is the part
that is still tin.
Some of you may feel that this is very unlike your own experience. You
may say "I've never had the sense of being helped by an invisible Christ,
but I often have been helped by other human beings." That is rather like the
woman in the first war who said that if there were a bread shortage it would
not bother her house because they always ate toast. If there is no bread
there will be no toast. If there were no help from Christ, there would be no
help from other human beings. He works on us in all sorts of ways: not only
through what we think our "religious life." He works through Nature, through
our own bodies, through books, sometimes through experiences which seem (at
the time) anti-Christian. When a young man who has been going to church in a
routine way honestly realises that he does not believe in Christianity and
stops going-provided he does it for honesty's sake and not just to annoy his
parents-the spirit of Christ is probably nearer to him then than it ever was
before. But above all, He works on us through each other.
Men are mirrors, or "carriers" of Christ to other men. Sometimes
unconscious carriers. This "good infection" can be carried by those who have
not got it themselves. People who were not Christians themselves helped me
to Christianity. But usually it is those who know Him that bring Him to
others. That is why the Church, the whole body of Christians showing Him to
one another, is so important. You might say that when two Christians are
following Christ together there is not twice as much Christianity as when
they are apart, but sixteen times as much.
But do not forget this. At first it is natural for a baby to take its
mother's milk without knowing its mother. It is equally natural for us to
see the man who helps us without seeing Christ behind him. But we must not
remain babies. We must go on to recognise the real Giver. It is madness not
to. Because, if we do not, we shall be relying on human beings. And that is
going to let us down. The best of them will make mistakes; all of them will
die. We must be thankful to all the people who have helped us, we must
honour them and love them. But never, never pin your whole faith on any
human being: not if he is the best and wisest in the whole world. There are
lots of nice things you can do with sand; but do not try building a house on
it.
And now we begin to see what it is that the New Testament is always
talking about. It talks about Christians "being born again"; it talks about
them "putting on Christ"; about Christ "being formed in us"; about our
coming to "have the mind of Christ."
Put right out of your head the idea that these are only fancy ways of
saying that Christians are to read what Christ said and try to carry it
out-as a man may read what Plato or Marx said and try to carry it out. They
mean something much more than that. They mean that a real Person, Christ,
here and now, in that very room where you are saying your prayers, is doing
things to you. 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. And soon we make two other discoveries.
(1) We begin to notice, besides our particular sinful acts, our
sinfulness; begin to be alarmed not only about what we do, but about what we
are. This may sound rather difficult, so I will try to make it clear from my
own case. When I come to my evening prayers and try to reckon up the sins of
the day, nine times out of ten the most obvious one is some sin against
charity; I have sulked or snapped or sneered or snubbed or stormed. And the
excuse that immediately springs to my mind is that the provocation was so
sudden and unexpected: I was caught off my guard, I had not time to collect
myself. Now that may be an extenuating circumstance as regards those
particular acts: they would obviously be worse if they had been deliberate
and premeditated. On the other hand, surely what a man does when he is taken
off his guard is the best evidence for what sort of a man he is? Surely what
pops out before the man has time to put on a disguise is the truth? If there
are rats in a cellar you are most likely to see them if you go in very
suddenly. But the suddenness does not create the rats: it only prevents them
from hiding. In the same way the suddenness of the provocation does not make
me an ill-tempered man: it only shows me what an ill-tempered man I am. The
rats are always there in the cellar, but if you go in shouting and noisily
they will have taken cover before you switch on the light. Apparently the
rats of resentment and vindictiveness are always there in the cellar of my
soul. Now that cellar is out of reach of my conscious will. I can to some
extent control my acts: I have no direct control over my temperament. And if
(as I said before) what we are matters even more than what we do-if, indeed,
what we do matters chiefly as evidence of what we are-then it follows that
the change which I most need to undergo is a change that my own direct,
voluntary efforts cannot bring about And this applies to my good actions
too. How many of them were done for the right motive? How many for fear of
public opinion, or a desire to show off? How many from a sort of obstinacy
or sense of superiority which, in different circumstances, might equally had
led to some very bad act? But I cannot, by direct moral effort, give myself
new motives. After the first few steps in the Christian life we realise that
everything which really needs to be done in our souls can be done only by
God. And that brings us to something which has been very misleading in my
language up to now.
(2) I have been talking as if it were we who did everything. In
reality, of course, it is God who does everything. We, at most, allow it to
be done to us. In a sense you might even say it is God who does the
pretending. The Three-Personal God, so to speak, sees before Him in fact a
self-centred, greedy, grumbling, rebellious human animal. But He says "Let
us pretend that this is not a mere creature, but our Son. It is like Christ
in so far as it is a Man, for He became Man. Let us pretend that it is also
like Him in Spirit. Let us treat it as if it were what in fact it is not.
Let us pretend in order to make the pretence into a reality." God looks at
you as if you were a little Christ: Christ stands beside you to turn you
into one. I daresay this idea of a divine make-believe sounds rather strange
at first. But, is it so strange really? Is not that how the higher thing
always raises the lower? A mother teaches her baby to talk by talking to it
as if it understood long before it really does. We treat our dogs as if they
were "almost human": that is why they really become "almost human" in the
end.
In the last chapter we were considering the Christian idea of "putting
on Christ," or first "dressing up" as a son of God in order that you may
finally become a real son. What I want to make clear is that this is not one
among many jobs a Christian has to do; and it is not a sort of special
exercise for the top class. It is the whole of Christianity. Christianity
offers nothing else at all. And I should like to point out how it differs
from ordinary ideas of "morality" and "being good."
The ordinary idea which we all have before we become Christians is
this. We take as starting point our ordinary self with its various desires
and interests. We then admit that something else call it "morality" or
"decent behaviour," or "the good of society" has claims on this self: claims
which interfere with its own desires. What we mean by "being good" is giving
in to those claims. Some of the things the ordinary self wanted to do turn
out to be what we call "wrong": well, we must give them up. Other things,
which the self did not want to do, turn out to be what we call "right":
well, we shall have to do them. But we are hoping all the time that when all
the demands have been met, the poor natural self will still have some
chance, and some time, to get on with its own life and do what it likes. In
fact, we are very like an honest man paying his taxes. He pays them all
right, but he does hope that there will be enough left over for him to live
on. Because we are still taking our natural self as the starting point.
As long as we are thinking that way, one or other of two results is
likely to follow. Either we give up trying to be good, or else we become
very unhappy indeed. For, make no mistake: if you are really going to try to
meet all the demands made on the natural self, it will not have enough left
over to live on. The more you obey your conscience, the more your conscience
will demand of you. And your natural self, which is thus being starved and
hampered and worried at every turn, will get angrier and angrier. In the
end, you will either give up trying to be good, or else become one of those
people who, as they say, "live for others" but always in a discontented,
grumbling way-always wondering why the others do not notice it more and
always making a martyr of yourself. And once you have become that you will
be a far greater pest to anyone who has to live with you than you would have
been if you had remained frankly selfish.
The Christian way is different: harder, and easier. Christ says "Give
me All. I don't want so much of your time and so much of your money and so
much of your work: I want You. I have not come to torment your natural self,
but to kill it. No half-measures are any good. I don't want to cut off a
branch here and a branch there, I want to have the whole tree down. I don't
want to drill the tooth, or crown it, or stop it, but to have it out. Hand
over the whole natural self, all the desires which you think innocent as
well as the ones you think wicked-the whole outfit. I will give you a new
self instead. In fact, I will give you Myself: my own will shall become
yours."
Both harder and easier than what we are all trying to do. You have
noticed, I expect, that Christ Himself sometimes describes the Christian way
as very hard, sometimes as very easy. He says, "Take up your Cross"-in other