C.S.
Lewis perceived that our inconsolable longing in
this life will only be completely fulfilled when we are united to God in the
next. He also identified another awesome dimension to our ultimate desire for
fulfillment. What we really want is not merely to be satisfied, but to become
part of the beauty and glory that draws us in even now:
"When
I attempted, a few minutes ago, to describe our spiritual longings, I was
omitting one of their most curious characteristics. We usually notice it just as
the moment of vision dies away, as the music ends, or as the landscape loses
the celestial light. What we feel then has been well described by Keats as 'the
journey homeward to habitual self.' You know what I mean. For a few minutes we
have had the illusion of belonging to that world. Now we wake to find that it
is no such thing. We have been mere spectators. Beauty has smiled, but not to
welcome us; her face was turned in our direction, but not to see us. We have
not been accepted, welcomed, or taken into the dance. ... A scientist may reply
that since most of the things we call beautiful are inanimate, it is not very
surprising that they take no notice of us. That, of course, is true. It is not
the physical objects that I am speaking of, but that indescribable something of
which they become for a moment the messengers. And part of the bitterness which
mixes with the sweetness of that message is due to the fact that it so seldom
seems to be a message intended for us, but rather something we have overheard.
By bitterness I mean pain, not resentment. We should hardly dare to ask that
any notice be taken of ourselves. But we pine. The
sense that in this universe we are treated as strangers, the longing to be
acknowledged, to meet with some response, to bridge some chasm that yawns
between us and reality, is part of our inconsolable secret. And surely, from
this point of view, the promise of glory, in the sense described, becomes
highly relevant to our deep desire. For glory means good report with God,
acceptance by God, response, acknowledgment, and welcome into the heart of
things. The door on which we have been knocking all our lives will open at
last.
"Perhaps
it seems rather crude to describe glory as the fact of being 'noticed' by God.
But this is almost the language of the New Testament. St. Paul promises to
those who love God not, as we should expect, that they will know Him, but that
they will be known by Him (1 Cor. 8:3). ... Apparently, then, our lifelong
nostalgia, our longing to be reunited with something in the universe from which
we now feel cut off, to be on the inside of some door which we have always seen
from the outside, is no mere neurotic fancy, but the truest index of our real
situation. And to be at last summoned inside would be both glory and honor
beyond all our merits and also the healing of that old ache.
...
"At present we are on the outside of the world, the
wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but
they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendours we
see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumour that it
will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in." (C.S.
Lewis, The Weight of
Glory)
No comments:
Post a Comment