C.S. Lewis is best known for his wonderful fantasy series, The Chronicles of Narnia, but he was a prolific writer in a variety of genres. Always thought-provoking and insightful, his books are also beautifully written. Lewis’s genius lies in giving readers a fresh perspective on important truths, helping us to see clearly what has perhaps always been in front of our eyes.
Many of Lewis’s nonfiction books are works of Christian apologetics. The word “apologetics” comes from the Latin “apologia,” which means an argument for the defense – so, apologetics has nothing to do with apologizing for anything, but rather with presenting rational arguments for the truth – in this case, the truth of theism and Christianity.
Mere Christianity stands at the forefront of Lewis’s apologetics works, and for good reason. It is a masterful explanation of what orthodox Christians believe, and why it makes sense. For me, it was a profoundly influential book as I struggled with questions of whether God existed and what that would mean if He did. As a Christian, I now return to Mere Christianity for insights into how to live as a Christian.
The book is based on radio broadcasts that Lewis made in 1942-1944. Lewis was no stranger to war, having served in the trenches in World War I. During World War II, he served as an air warden, and gave talks to men serving in the Royal Air Force – men who knew that with the grim odds of air warfare against Germany’s forces, they were almost certain to die in defense of England. A little later, he began giving talks on the radio to a broader audience in England: people who, faced with uncertainty, deprivation, and danger were willing to consider the most serious questions of all. What is true? Why do we have a sense of morality, of right and wrong – why do we know intuitively that the Nazi regime is evil, and that the right thing to do is to resist it?
When he assembled the talks into a book, Lewis retained the conversational style of the radio broadcasts, making Mere Christianity eminently accessible. It is like having a serious conversation with a wise mentor, who explains things in straightforward language but who doesn’t pull any punches when it comes to presenting serious, difficult ideas.
The title of “Mere” Christianity reflects the fact that Lewis focuses on the core elements of Christian belief, those that are shared by all orthodox Christians. As a result of this wise choice, Mere Christianity is an inspiring and nourishing book for Christians of all denominations and traditions.
Let me give one extended quote from Mere Christianity, to show how Lewis can illuminate a topic. Consider the question: What is faith? Many skeptics (among them myself, years ago) ask how it can be possible to just “have faith” in something that doesn’t seem to make sense. That is, in fact, an excellent question, and Lewis has an answer that may surprise you… as it surprised me, when I read it as a skeptic about Christianity:
Roughly speaking, the word Faith seems to be used by Christians on two senses or on two levels, and I will take them in turn. In the first sense it means simply Belief – accepting or regarding as true the doctrines of Christianity. That is fairly simple. But what does puzzle people – at least it used to puzzle me – is the fact that Christians regard faith in this sense as a virtue. I used to ask how on earth it can be a virtue – what is there moral or immoral about believing or not believing a set of statements? Obviously, I used to say, a sane man accepts or rejects any statement, not because he wants to or does not want to, but because the evidence seems to him good or bad. If he were mistaken about the goodness or badness of the evidence that would not mean he was a bad man, but only that he was not very clever. And if he thought the evidence bad but tried to force himself to believe in spite of it, that would be merely stupid.
Well, I think I still take that view. But what I did not see then – and a good many people do not see still – was this. I was assuming that if the human mind once accepts a thing as true it will automatically go on regarding it as true, until some real reason for reconsidering it turns up. In fact, I was assuming that the human mind is completely ruled by reason. But that is not so. For example, my reason is perfectly convinced by good evidence that anaesthetics do not smother me and that properly trained surgeons do not start operating until I am unconscious. But that does not alter the fact that when they have me down on the table and clap their horrible mask over my face, a mere childish panic begins inside me. I start thinking I am going to choke, and I am afraid they will start cutting me up before I am properly under. In other words, I lose my faith in anaesthetics. It is not reason that is taking away my faith: on the contrary, my faith is based on reason. It is my imagination and emotions. The battle is between faith and reason on one side and emotion and imagination on the other.
[...] Faith, in these sense in which I am here using the word, is the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted, in spite of your changing moods.
(from Mere Christianity, Chapter 11)
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