The Case for Conversion
It’s been a while since I read C. S. Lewis’, "Mere Christianity." I remember it being a convincing apology for belief in God, and belief in Jesus as God Incarnate. The fact that all humans share altruism is evidence, for Lewis, that God is, and that He is the God of the Bible. Jesus is God’s Son – as the Bible says – or He was a madman. Jesus was what He claimed to be, or a lunatic. There is no middle ground.
Lewis, after long conversations with close personal friends, became convinced of the deity of Jesus and his (Lewis’) need to respond to the good news that Jesus died to effect his salvation. Lewis’ conversion – whether he knew it or not – came on the heels of his conviction that the Bible had got it right. It was a singular blueprint for life’s meaning and purpose.
Many have followed the same path – both before and since. As often as not, the case for conversion is driven by personal demons, some expressed, some sequestered that tear away at personal identity and worth. A despicable slave trader who began to see himself as lost and ugly penned “Amazing Grace.” Others find solace, not only in sins forgiven, but also in the cushion of inner peace. John Lennon wrote, “Whatever gets you through the night, it’s alright, it’s alright.”
I don’t mess with conversion experiences. They are rare and (for the converted) they are real. If conversion can take a drug-addicted black man from a cardboard box on the streets of New York City, to a seat within the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir, it’s really all right. Conversion is God’s prerogative I have to assume. C. S. Lewis got gripped by God, and that was that. End of story – or, maybe it was the beginning, at least for Lewis.
For most of us, it’s different. And by most, I mean just about everyone. You see, most of us are born into a religious mindset: Aztec, Native American, Islamic, Judaic, Buddhist, Hindu, or Christian, with all of its cults and permutations. Most of us are, from birth, consigned to a set of religious propositions that are nearly impossible to shake. Most of us don’t even think about them – they’re a given. Beyond that, without really understanding our religious assumptions, we get downright angry with anyone who challenges them. Wars get started over them. People die for them and because of them. Communities coalesce around common beliefs and outsiders are at best, ignored; at worst, obliterated. The story of the Good Samaritan be damned, if not by word at least by action.
It may have been unimportant to C. S. Lewis that the Gospels were written by interpreters and not by biographers or historians. The Gospel was taken as truth, irrespective of its literal correctness. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John – and (before them all, Paul) – wrote of both actual and interpreted experiences with Jesus. Jesus never wrote a thing. The Gospel writers wrote in a context and used idioms that made sense to first century readers. Through the centuries the stories have been layered and reinterpreted. Most of us don’t get that. And, it’s a shame. The very institutions that were endowed with a mandate to proclaim the Gospel, buried it. Conversion became a club-joining thing – a culturally transmitted metaphysic capable of sloughing off criticism better than ducks shed water. Don’t even think about arguing whether Mohammed or Jesus actually ascended into the heavens. You can posit those beliefs without knowing the first thing about conversion.
You see, conversion is a radical re-orientation of one’s life. It is a turning away from the way things are to the way things might be, with an emphasis on how to be a better person and a better neighbor. It is a beginning point from which we deal aggressively with self-destructive thoughts and actions. It marks the onset of caring for others as much as we care for ourselves. Tribal hatreds and common greed are dealt a deathblow. Predatory instincts dissolve and are replaced by altruism. Wisdom is viewed with respect and is given a place of honor.
C. S. Lewis understood the power of metaphor better than most. He was gifted in its use. He knew from experience that a story could change a life. He took the essence of the Gospel and recast it in terms that even a child could understand. So when we argue over whether a story is historically accurate or not, we’ve missed the point and conversion becomes just another word.
Conversion contradicts the theory of natural selection – a theory that has served us well and is sound science. Conversion means that we understand that death is a means to life - not necessarily our own personal life, but to life – and who knows, maybe even the unfathomable purposes of God. Perhaps more than anything, conversion delivers us capable of seeing past the surface and into the substance. We understand the poetry, the metaphor, the allegory, and the aphorism – and catch a glimpse of the truth and are forever changed.
Lewis, after long conversations with close personal friends, became convinced of the deity of Jesus and his (Lewis’) need to respond to the good news that Jesus died to effect his salvation. Lewis’ conversion – whether he knew it or not – came on the heels of his conviction that the Bible had got it right. It was a singular blueprint for life’s meaning and purpose.
Many have followed the same path – both before and since. As often as not, the case for conversion is driven by personal demons, some expressed, some sequestered that tear away at personal identity and worth. A despicable slave trader who began to see himself as lost and ugly penned “Amazing Grace.” Others find solace, not only in sins forgiven, but also in the cushion of inner peace. John Lennon wrote, “Whatever gets you through the night, it’s alright, it’s alright.”
I don’t mess with conversion experiences. They are rare and (for the converted) they are real. If conversion can take a drug-addicted black man from a cardboard box on the streets of New York City, to a seat within the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir, it’s really all right. Conversion is God’s prerogative I have to assume. C. S. Lewis got gripped by God, and that was that. End of story – or, maybe it was the beginning, at least for Lewis.
For most of us, it’s different. And by most, I mean just about everyone. You see, most of us are born into a religious mindset: Aztec, Native American, Islamic, Judaic, Buddhist, Hindu, or Christian, with all of its cults and permutations. Most of us are, from birth, consigned to a set of religious propositions that are nearly impossible to shake. Most of us don’t even think about them – they’re a given. Beyond that, without really understanding our religious assumptions, we get downright angry with anyone who challenges them. Wars get started over them. People die for them and because of them. Communities coalesce around common beliefs and outsiders are at best, ignored; at worst, obliterated. The story of the Good Samaritan be damned, if not by word at least by action.
It may have been unimportant to C. S. Lewis that the Gospels were written by interpreters and not by biographers or historians. The Gospel was taken as truth, irrespective of its literal correctness. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John – and (before them all, Paul) – wrote of both actual and interpreted experiences with Jesus. Jesus never wrote a thing. The Gospel writers wrote in a context and used idioms that made sense to first century readers. Through the centuries the stories have been layered and reinterpreted. Most of us don’t get that. And, it’s a shame. The very institutions that were endowed with a mandate to proclaim the Gospel, buried it. Conversion became a club-joining thing – a culturally transmitted metaphysic capable of sloughing off criticism better than ducks shed water. Don’t even think about arguing whether Mohammed or Jesus actually ascended into the heavens. You can posit those beliefs without knowing the first thing about conversion.
You see, conversion is a radical re-orientation of one’s life. It is a turning away from the way things are to the way things might be, with an emphasis on how to be a better person and a better neighbor. It is a beginning point from which we deal aggressively with self-destructive thoughts and actions. It marks the onset of caring for others as much as we care for ourselves. Tribal hatreds and common greed are dealt a deathblow. Predatory instincts dissolve and are replaced by altruism. Wisdom is viewed with respect and is given a place of honor.
C. S. Lewis understood the power of metaphor better than most. He was gifted in its use. He knew from experience that a story could change a life. He took the essence of the Gospel and recast it in terms that even a child could understand. So when we argue over whether a story is historically accurate or not, we’ve missed the point and conversion becomes just another word.
Conversion contradicts the theory of natural selection – a theory that has served us well and is sound science. Conversion means that we understand that death is a means to life - not necessarily our own personal life, but to life – and who knows, maybe even the unfathomable purposes of God. Perhaps more than anything, conversion delivers us capable of seeing past the surface and into the substance. We understand the poetry, the metaphor, the allegory, and the aphorism – and catch a glimpse of the truth and are forever changed.
posted by Don Doan at 6:05 PM
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