This is the longest chapter thus far in the book. Our main character meets up with a Bright Person, who says he is George MacDonald. This is irony at its best, as CS Lewis was a devout fan of MacDonald's writings. He engages him in conversation and soon asks all kinds of questions:
"Do any of these ghosts stay?" (here in this place, Greytown, this middle place, this purgatory, or this Hell) The answer he gets refers Refrigerium, which mentions that "the damned have holidays -- excursions..." He says that only some come to this place. Many prefer to go back to earth and haunt people or places.
MacDonald mentions that mortals fail to understand what's going on when they complain about life on earth being "hell." He says, "They say of some temporal suffering, 'No future bliss can make up for it,' not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory."
Our man asks, "Then those people are right who say that Heaven and Hell are only states of mind?" He is sternly told to "Hush. Do not blaspheme. Hell is a state of mind -- ye never said a truer word. And every state of mind, left to itself, every shutting up of the creature within the dungeon of its own mind -- is, in the end, Hell. But Heaven is not a state of mind. Heaven is reality itself. All that is fully real is Heavenly. For all that can be shaken will be shaken and only the unshakeable remains."
Our man asks: "Why the Solid People, since they were full of love, did not go down into Hell to rescue the Ghosts. Why were they content simply to meet them on the plain? One would have expected a more militant charity."
His answer: "Ye will understand that better, perhaps before ye go. In the meantime, I must tell ye they have come further for the sake of the Ghosts than ye can understand. Every one of us lives only to journey further and further into the mountains. Every one of us has interrupted that journey and retraced immeasurable distances to come down today on the mere chance of saving some Ghost. Of course it is also joy to do so, but ye cannot blame us for that! And it would be no use to come further even if it were possible. The sane would do no good if they made themselves mad to help madmen."
"But what of the poor Ghosts who never get into the omnibus at all?"
"Everyone who wishes it does. Never fear. There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, 'THey will be done,' and those to whom God says, in the end, 'Thy will be done.' All that are in Hell, choose it. WIthout that self-choice there could be no Hell. No soul that seriously and constantly desires joy will ever miss it. Those who seek find. To those who knock it is opened."
There is the realization by our guy that ghosts try to terrorize people on earth, because they are in denial or despair of their own condition, and this somehow is meant to act as an escape from the doom of being a Ghost.
Another Ghost and Spirit meet up and our man listens in. He actually recognizes the face of the other Ghost, recalling it was a famous artist back on earth. His Spirit "guide," so to speak (ahem) tells him that what he did on earth was reflect back bits of Heaven that he'd seen. And here everyone else already sees the bits of Heaven -- even more clearly than this newly dead artist could, so there would be no need of painting just yet. His job was to see and discover. That thing which spartked his art in the beginning -- seeing the Light -- was going to be what he'd be up to again ... and immediately. He protested a bit, saying that he'd later gotten into paint "for its own sake."
The Spirit addressed that. "One does, indeed. I also have had to recover from that. It was all a snare. Ink and catgut and paint were necessary down there, but they are also dangerous stimulants. Every poet and musician and artist, but for Grace, is drawn away from love of the thing he tells, to love of the telling till, down in Deep Hell, they cannot be intertested in God at all but only in what they say about Him. For it doesn't stop at being interested in paint, you know. They sink lower -- become interested in their own personalities and then in onothing but their own reputations."
Wow.
I think I might be troubled in that way. I have had some really cool experiences with God and by His grace have had my eyes opened to some truths in His Word that really turn my heart into a dancing whirl. However, I think over time I've laid back and rested on my past experiences, not building on them, so much, as thinking that the wisdom, healing, and inspiration I received from these things are enough to feed others and myself off of ... perpetually. The problem is, I need to never neglect going "back to the well." I need more of God. These experiences and lessons are great, but focusing on them to the loss of focusing on the God Who brought them is a mistake ... and I think I've made it. I think I've found in my heart a laziness to rest on those past "victories" if I can call them that. Maybe a better word would be "obediences."
The Artist Ghost replied: "I don't think I"m much troubled in that way." The Spirit said, "That's excellent. Not many of us had quite got over it when we first arrived. But if there is any of that inflammation left it will be cured when you come to the fountain."
"What fountain is that?"
"It's up there in the mountains. Very cold and clear, between two green hills. A little like Lethe. When you have drunk of it you forget forever all proprietorship in your own works. You enjoy them as if they were someone else's: without pride and without modesty."
"That'll be grand," said the Ghost without enthusiasm.
"Well, come," said the Spirit: and for a few paces he supported the hobbling shadow forward to the East.
"Of course," said the Ghost, as if speaking to itself, "there'll always be interesting people to meet..."
"Everyone will be interesting."
"Oh-ah-yes, to be sure. I was thinking of people in our own line. Shall I meet Claude? Or Cezanne? Or-"
"Sooner or later -- if they're here."
"But don't you know?"
"Well, of course not. I've only been here a few years. All the chances are against my having run across them...there are a good many of us, you know."
"But surely in the case of distinguished people, you'd hear?"
"But they aren't distinguished -- no more than anyone else. Don't you understand? The Glory flows into everyone, adn back from everyone: like light and mirrors. But the light's the thing."
"Do you mean there are no famous men?"
"They are all famous. They are all known, remembered, recognized by the only Mind that can give a perfect judgment."
Their conversation continued and, much as I feared while reading it, it turned out bad. Even though this Ghost was ever so close to going to the mountains and drinking out of that fountain, he got upset when he found out that he wasn't famous on earth anymore. He wanted to go back right away and get some momentum going for his deceased career.
sigh.
What a fool.
The bit about famous people and being important in the eyes of the One Person Who mattered most reminded me of a forgotten line I so planned on uttering from the stage one New Year's Eve performance at my church (Calvary Chapel in Austin). I was singing "At The Feet Of Christ" in a rocked up version of the worship tune and, during a short pause in the second chorus I was going to say, "Check this out: The only One Who has a right to put us down ... chooses instead to lift us up! Hallelujah! Praise His Name!" (The side story here that aggravates me is I wasn't rehearsed enough to remember how the chorus went to confidently launch into this diatribe, so it was never spoken. Dang!) The real point is how important (and fulfilling) to be loved, appreciated, and known in the eyes and mind of God.
Tomorrow I have an excellent opportunity. I have a scheduled interview with Chris Cornell. This news is exciting and takes away some of the sting of having my scheduled interview (and major feature this issue) with Dave Mustaine being cancelled.
Posted by Doug Van Pelt at April 17, 2007 07:48 PM