Truth Really Matters

“If we insist on keeping Hell (or even Earth) we shall not see Heaven:  if we accept Heaven we shall not be able to retain even the smallest and most intimate souvenirs of Hell.” 

In the preface to his 1946 book, The Great Divorce, C. S. Lewis explains the thesis of his allegory, that despite man’s frequent efforts to combine Heaven and Hell in their lives, or imagine that they can ‘live like Hell’ and still attain Heaven, there is a de facto ultimate divorce between Heaven and Hell.  One must choose, and choose on God’s terms, not our own fancies.

Man’s powerful capacity to rationalize some way of embracing both alternatives invariably leads him to Hell.  “You cannot take all luggage with you on all journeys; on one journey even your right hand and your right eye may be among the things you have to leave behind” – citing the Lord Jesus, of course, in the Sermon on the Mount.  In Lewis’ preface, explicitly, and then throughout the book, he implores the reader to consider that what he thinks he has to abandon in seeking Heaven, even if it’s his right eye, has not actually been lost.  Rather, even the most depraved desires on Earth are correlated with yearnings that find fulfillment only in Heaven, where good is everything and everywhere.

The Great Divorce is a fantasy, Lewis insists, an allegory.  He advises us that the book’s imagery is neither guess nor speculation as to what actually awaits the follower of Jesus.  For those who would like a thoughtful speculation on Heaven, including the New Heaven and New Earth, I heartily recommend Randy Alcorn’s book, Heaven.  You might also check out my two chapters on Heaven in my free e-book on this site, One Heartbeat from Hell – plus 11 other compelling reasons to become a Christian.

The Great Divorce is written in the 1^st person.  The writer joins others on a bus traveling from Earth (or Hell, it’s not always clear) to Heaven.  Everyone on the bus reaches the outskirts of Heaven and can choose whether to go further or return on the bus back to Earth (Hell).  Proceeding further is not comfortable, but each rider is encouraged by a “bright angel,” a saint from their past who has gone on before.

The saint tries mightily to convince the traveler he guides to complete the journey, by helping him to see reality truly, to change perspective, to admit where he’s been wrong or irrational . . . namely, to repent and believe truly.  Those who are determinedly and thereby irrevocably lost insist on denying reality, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

Now, I’ve opined on C. S. Lewis previously – negatively – but in this book he offers intriguing insights on the stubbornness of unbelief.  Some atheists wrongly define faith (in the Christian sense) as holding to a worldview without any evidence.  In fact, this definition corresponds to unbelief – holding to a warped view of reality despite considerable evidence in opposition.

What I’ll pull out from the book for the rest of this essay are some of the individual cases Lewis describes that represent the excuses different unbelievers use to reject the Gospel – rejecting the Sīra only hope they have for forgiveness and salvation.

In the queue preparing to board the bus, a married couple snaps at each other and the woman storms off.  The man decides to leave, too, declaring that he was there only to please her.  And over such a triviality, they’re gone.

I see shadows of my mom and dad there, both lifelong Roman Catholics.  My mother ruled the household, while dad, actually an agnostic, went along for the sake of peace.  When in her fifties, mom encountered an evangelical who manipulated her to (falsely) profess faith in Christ.  (It’s a long story, but it was and is clear that she held fast to her RC faith, not a biblical one.  At least we did succeed in having some serious discussions about the difference.)  But from that point, she figured that she could drag dad into Heaven on her coattails, based on a perverted interpretation of 1 Cor 7:14 she heard from a Catholic priest she trusted.  My dad would never let me get into a serious discussion with him on spiritual issues.  And so they both ‘missed the bus.’

In Lewis’ story, another fellow in the queue, observing the flap, commented that that was ‘the sort of thing’ that made him reconsider getting on the bus at all.  Why?  These people just didn’t reflect the sort of society he appreciated.  Similarly, there are many lost sinners who find fault with churches and churchgoers – Who can’t find fault? – and so lose sight of their own desperate need for forgiveness.  Typically, and ironically, the people they find fault with are professing, but false Christians themselves.  And so they all wind up in Hell together.

As the bus leaves the earthly domain, one traveler expresses surprise at the number of people who choose to ride, since on Earth “they’ve got cinemas and fish and chip shops and advertisements and all the sorts of things they want.  The appalling lack of any intellectual life doesn’t worry them.”

Indeed, it seems like most people would disregard ‘religious beliefs’ entirely if they had a prospect of living on this present Earth indefinitely . . . as troublesome and corrupt as it is.  That second thought is interesting – most people (I’m writing from my American experience in 121 evangelism) avoid thoughts of eternity, even though the consequences of getting it wrong are awesomely tragic.  When I ask a lost fellow if he ever thinks about the big issues – life, death, Heaven, Hell – the common answer is “all the time.”  What is meant, though, is that thoughts of eternity intrude regularly, but are quickly banished.  They don’t actually think it through.  Simple followup questions prove this.  This applies to the ‘upper’ intellectual class, too.  What serves as the intellectual life for academics and other high-IQ types touches issues that are ephemeral, even trivial . . . politics, the latest Broadway play, wine tasting, politics, cultural fads, politics . . .

One fellow explains the emptiness of the town they’re leaving:  “The trouble is that they’re so quarrelsome.”  Neighborhood quarrels provoke people to move, but the new neighborhood simply generates new quarrels.  Lewis is on the mark here.  People just don’t get along with other people.  All the wars  in history before the 20^th century, and most since, involve countries that are neighbors.  Eygpt has never gone to war with Nicaragua, neither has Mexico with Australia.  Consider our cities.  Concentrating many people in small geographic areas results in crime, fear, and political manipulation which feeds on fear and crime, generating even more crime and fear.

Someone had observed Napoleon walking around Earth / Hell, muttering to himself repeatedly:  “It was Soult’s fault.  It was Josephine’s fault.  It was the fault of the Russians . . . the English.”  “He didn’t seem able to stop it.”  A lot of people wind up in Hell because they have too much pride to admit their own sins, sins before God, and that they need the Saviour.  Any honest Christian knows that he / she is the worst sinner they know, because we live in our own heads, listen to ourselves talk, and watch what we ourselves do.  We may see sin in others, but our own sins should overwhelm us to humility.

When the bus reaches the fields and forests of the foothills leading to Heaven, the riders disembark and decisions await.  Our writer observes a variety of characters wandering around who have been dithering.  One is typically self-righteous and, while pointing out the sins of others says, “I’ve gone straight all my life.  I don’t say I was a religious man and I don’t say I had no faults, far from it.  But I done my best all my life, see?”  And he lists some of his virtues.  The saint assigned to him, formerly a convicted murderer, explains that he cannot approach Heaven while standing on his rights or his virtues.  “I’m not asking for anybody’s bleeding charity,” he protests.

The saint (the forgiven murderer) implores him to do just that, explaining, “You weren’t a decent man and you didn’t do your best.  None of us were and none of us did . . . I was the worst.”  Pointing out some of the sinner’s faults provokes the reply, “I’m not taking any impudence from you about my private affairs.”

“There are no private affairs,” says the saint.  Yep, everything is recorded and will be revealed in the Day of Judgment.

Another fellow’s guide explains that his problem is apostasy.  The response:  “Do you really think people are penalized for their honest opinions? . . . Honest opinions fearlessly followed – they are not sins.”

But they are not honest, are they?  False beliefs, false religions, and false worldviews are held for selfish reasons, and held despite the availability and even the clear revealing of the Truth that redeems, saves, and sets free.

The sinner in this case turns out to be a notable clergyman who went modernist, denying the Resurrection and other biblical truths, resulting in secular popularity, book sales, speaking invitations, even a bishopric in an apostate denomination.  He admits, “We were afraid of crude salvationism, afraid of a breach with the spirit of the age, afraid of ridicule, afraid (above all) of real spiritual fears and hopes.”

It’s interesting that the list of characteristics of Hell-bound sinners in Revelation 1:8 begins with “the fearful.”

The fellow later admits an obstacle, that he is dedicated to principles of “free inquiry.”  See 2 Timothy 3:7 to judge this sin:  “Ever learning, and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth.”  A quest for learning is good, but wisdom demands that we recognize the answers when confronted.  It is a fatal mistake to deny Truth when it stares you in the face.  The conclusion to the Gospel of John in 20:31 is telling:  “But these are written, that ye might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing ye might have life through his name.”

The Bible throughout, and the Gospel of John in particular, was inspired by the Holy Spirit to be recognizable as saving Truth.  God made us in His image so that we will recognize His words as Truth, if we want to.

I worked as a university professor for several years and recognize this character from Lewis in most of the academics I’ve met.  Of course, many will insist that they have settled on truth, namely evolution.  But when pressed, they know that evolution is nothing but narratives void of evidence; evolution is a fantasy intended to replace God.  In a lengthy discussion with one professor emeritus of biology, who had taught evolution for forty years, I asked him, simple physicist that I am, if he could offer one simple air-tight piece of evidence that demonstrated the truth of evolution.  He couldn’t and he admitted it.  But evolution served him for a comfortable career and the associated lifestyle.

I achieved some local infamy with my fellow academics about 20 years ago when I wrote several letters to the editor of the city’s newspaper criticizing evolution in response to some relevant news story.  Reacting to one of the letters, a retired professor of chemistry, whom I had never met, called me up to say he appreciated my efforts, but he totally disagreed with me and would like to explain why.  We got together to discuss creation vs. evolution for over an hour on a late Friday afternoon, and then again and again for the following five weeks.

He finally admitted that he had no scientific justifications for his atheistic / evolutionistic worldview, but was going to hold to it anyway.  His heart and mind and will trumped his conscience.

In Lewis’ account, our writer asks why so many souls turn back, rejecting their opportunity for Heaven.  His guide, whom he calls ‘Teacher,’ explains, “There is always something they insist on keeping even at the price of misery.  There is always something they prefer to joy – that is, to reality.  You see it easily enough in a spoiled child that would sooner miss its play and its supper than say it was sorry and be friends.”  That resonates with my impression of that desultory chemistry professor.

Teacher observes that sensual sins may begin by pursuing a small, but real pleasure – the sin may be ‘small’ at first.  But as it grows, the craving waxes fiercer and fiercer while the pleasure diminishes.  Even though the sinner knows that joy can never be achieved that way, he would rather fondle an unappeasable lust than forsake it.  Even to the death.

At the end of time, Teacher explains, there are only two kinds of people:  “those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and those to whom God says, ‘Thy will be done.’  All that are in Hell, choose it.”

Lewis describes an interesting encounter with a famous artist who wanted to stop and paint the landscape.  His guide advises him that there is no point.  Painting merely enables Earth-dwellers to see glimpses of Heaven in an earthly country.  But once you can see Heaven, it only diminishes the reality by painting it.

“If you are interested in the country only for the sake of painting it, you’ll never see the country.”  The guide warns him that he mustn’t love the thing at the expense of the Creator of all things.  Those who are enamored with things and their own talent in describing or manipulating the things sink lower and lower – they “become interested in their own personalities and then in nothing but their own reputations.”

Then there is the mother, obsessed to reach Heaven to be reunited with her son.  She has a ‘right’ to reach Heaven because of her great devotion to and love for her son.  Her guide explains that “you first exist as God’s creature.  That relation is older and closer . . . He also loves.  He also has suffered.”

But her focus is only on her son, as if God’s only job is to reunite them.  It turns out she was possessive, controlling, and unwilling to admit her sins.  Pride keeps her from repentance and from reaching Heaven.

A famous actor used his skills throughout his life to manipulate people.  He used the natural inclination for pity in others to blackmail them into doing his will, beginning with his sisters while he was still a boy.  When caught in a misdeed, he would sulk in the attic, knowing one of his sisters would say, “I can’t bear to think of him sitting up there alone, crying.”

The actor’s guide was his wife, who begged him to stop acting.  But pride kept him from Heaven.  Finally, his soul shrivels until he cannot be seen anymore.

Teacher summarizes the evil behind those that use pity for emotional blackmail:  “The demand of the loveless and the self-imprisoned that they should be allowed to blackmail the universe:  that till they consent to be happy (on their own terms) no one else shall taste joy:  that theirs should be the final power; that Hell should be able to veto Heaven.”  Do you know anyone like that?

Lewis recounts additional cases in The Great  Divorce, a book I believe that should be read at least once by every Christian.  In the end Lewis’ Teacher notes that “All Hell is smaller than one pebble of your earthly world,” and that “all loneliness, angers, hatreds, envies, and itchings that it contains, if rolled into one single experience and put into the scale against the least moment of the joy that is felt by the least in Heaven, would have no weight that could be registered at all.”

In Henry Morris’ study Bible, he speculates that the Lake of Fire may be a dark star in a remote corner of the universe, inescapable, un-visitable, and microscopically insignificant with respect to the rest of God’s creation.  What a reward for addiction to stupid sins!

I remember one fellow I shared the Gospel with on the sidewalk outside the courthouse in downtown Chicago.  He resonated with every truth that I shared with him.  He knew he was lost and he admitted that his sins condemned him.  He agreed that Jesus was his only hope and that his alternative was Hell.  Yet he was so gripped with an addiction to fornication that he couldn’t bear to repent.  We ended the conversation on good terms.  Is there hope for such a fellow?  Indeed.  He knows enough Truth to save him.  If he seeks God’s help, God will give him the strength to repent and to trust the Saviour.  But he must take a step along that path.

Lewis’ book is quite the cautionary tale.  All unbelief is ultimately the same.  The excuse doesn’t matter.  We must help lost sinners to understand this.  And plead with them as the fictional guides do in the allegory.  We can at least try.

• drdave@truthreallymatters.com