Alister McGrath Was Wrong About The Date Of C. S. Lewis’ Conversion To Theism

C. S. Lewis came to believe in God late in the spring of 1929. In Surprised By Joy he wrote, “In the Trinity Term of 1929 [April 28 to June 22] I gave in, and admitted that God was God, and knelt and prayed: perhaps, that night, the most dejected and reluctant convert in all of England.”

Alister McGrath in C. S. Lewis - A Life: Eccentric Genius, Reluctant Prophet claims that Lewis got the date of his own conversion wrong, that it actually happened a year later. McGrath bases this claim on inferences from Lewis' correspondence with friends and family. "At no point in Lewis' writings of 1929 did I discern any signs of the dramatic developments that he describes as having taken place in his inner life that year...Even allowing for Lewis' reluctance to self-disclosure, his writings of this period do not point to any kind of conversion experience in 1929." McGrath also finds it significant that apparently Lewis did not begin attending college chapel services until October of 1930. "If Lewis really was converted during the Trinity Term of 1929, why did he wait over a year before starting to attend college chapel? It makes little sense.” McGrath concludes, "Lewis's conversion is best understood as having taken place in the Trinity Term of 1930, not 1929. In 1930, Trinity Term fell between 27 April and 21 June."

McGrath’s revision of the date is not compelling. First, there is really no puzzle about Lewis taking more than a year to start attending chapel. For a man who disliked religious ritual as much as Lewis, it is understandable that it would take him a while to learn to drag himself out of bed to make it to an 8 AM chapel service. The amazing thing is that he went at all, because at that point in his spiritual development he wasn't a Christian but a merely a theist.

What is truly puzzling is McGrath's claim that Lewis' private letters in 1929 "do not point to any kind of conversion experience." This is simply false. Below I have compiled a list of quotes from Lewis' letters all taken from before the time frame in which McGrath thinks Lewis converted from atheism to theism – April to June of 1929. The letters are in reverse chronological order. My few comments are in italics.

Lewis to Hamilton Jenkin, March 21, 1930:

On my side there are changes perhaps bigger: you will be surprised to hear that my outlook is now definitely religious. It is not precisely Christianity, tho’ it may turn out that way in the end. I can’t express the change better than by saying that whereas once I would have said, 'Shall I adopt Christianity', I now wait to see whether it will adopt me: i.e. I now know there is another Party in the affair – that I’m playing poker, not Patience, as I once supposed.

Lewis to Arthur Greeves, January 30, 1930:

The old doctrine is quite true you know – that one must attribute everything to the grace of God, and nothing to oneself. Yet as long as one is a conceited ass, there is no good pretending not to be. My self-satisfaction cannot be hidden from God, whether I express it to you or not: rather the little bit of self-satisfaction which I (probably wrongly) believe myself to be fighting against, is probably merely a drop in the bottomless ocean of vanity and self-approval which the Great Eye (or Great I) sees in me.

Lewis to Arthur Greeves, January 26, 1930:

[On daily reading George MacDonald’s devotional book, Diary of an Old Soul:

I shall soon have finished it and must look round for another book. Luckily the world is full of books of that general type: that is another of the beauties of coming, I won't say, to religion but to an attempt at religion – one finds oneself on the main road with all humanity, and can compare notes with an endless succession of previous travelers. It is emphatically coming home: as Chaucer says 'Returneth home from worldly vanitee.'

Lewis to Arthur Greeves, January 13, 1930:

In spite of all my recent changes of view, I am still inclined to think that you can only get what you call 'Christ' out of the Gospels by picking and choosing, and slurring over a good deal.

If Lewis is still an atheist, what would "my recent changes of view" refer to? He seems to be saying that though now he believes in God, he is not ready to embrace Christianity because he cannot reconcile that faith tradition with all of what he reads concerning Jesus in the Gospels.

Lewis to Arthur Greeves, January 3, 1930:

By now I hope you have my long letter and are well advanced with your long reply. You shall have another gripping instalment, D.V., in the course of the next ten days.

I am willing to stand corrected if anyone finds a counter-example, but I believe that the above is the first occurrence in Lewis of the abbreviation "D. V.", (Latin Deo Volente - "God willing"). It may reflect mere social custom, (as when a non religious person says “God bless you” when you sneeze), but I suspect that the ever-precise (and newly-theistic) Lewis actually meant it: "If God so wills, I’ll write you some more.”

Lewis to Arthur Greeves, December 21, 1929:

I should like to know, too, in general, what you think of all the darker side of religion as we find it in the old books. Formerly I regarded it as mere devil worship based on horrible superstitions. Now that I have found, and am still finding more and more, the element of truth in the old beliefs, I feel I cannot dismiss even their dreadful side so cavalierly...

Bacon says "The whole world cannot fill, much less distend the mind of man."(By the way, that is the answer to those who argue that the universe cannot be spiritual because it is so vast and inhuman and alarming. On the contrary, nothing less would do for us. At our best, we can stand it, and could not stand anything smaller or snugger. Anything less than the terrifyingly big would, at some moments, be cramping and 'homely' in the bad sense – as one speaks of a 'homely' face. You can't have elbow room for things like men except in endless time and space and staggering multiplicity.)

Lewis to Arthur Greeves, October 17, 1929:

It is very hard to keep one's feet in this sea of engagements and very bad for me spiritually.

Would an atheist care about what was bad for him spiritually?

Lewis to Arthur Greeves, October 6, 10, 17

These letters seem to show that Lewis was trying to maintain a devotional life.

I have not yet started meditation again. The difficulty is to find a suitable time.

I am slowly reading a book that we have known about, but not known, for many a long day – MacDonald’s Diary of an Old Soul. How I would have scorned it once! I strongly advise you to try it.

Dropped in on [John] Christie for half an hour and was in bed by 11:15 after reading my daily verse from The Diary of an Old Soul.

(Resumption)

Part of me feels bad for McGrath, because he worked very hard on his biography of Lewis, and he said in an interview with Aaron Cline Hanbury, "I think my proposal for a redating of Lewis’ conversion from 1929 to 1930 may be the most important aspect of the book." If I wrote a book and treasured one part of it as "the most important aspect", I'd be a bit put out if someone proved me wrong, and I'd probably go to bed that night in total chagrin muttering to myself, "Oh shucks. Darnit. Darnit." But C. S. Lewis had his conversion date right in the first place, and McGrath's revision cannot be allowed to stand.

Should A Pastor Drive A BMW?

Jesus drives a forklift at my job at the chemical plant. (Not Messiah Jesus - Hispanic Jesus. Pronounced "Hey SOOS"). He is a good soul who tries to watch his language around me because, as he puts it, “I was taught to RESPECT my elders.” He was explaining to me the other day why he doesn’t go to church. “Why should I go and listen to some guy who lives in a mansion and drives a fancy car and he’s still telling me I should put a lot more of my money in the offering plate?”

It seemed to me that Jesus’ mental image of a pastor was strongly shaped by the sons of hell and servants of Mammon that preach on TV. But I had a pretty good card to play in response. “Jesus, look at me,” I said, as I stood before him in my shellac-stained industrial uniform. “You know I’m a pastor. Does it look to you like I’m in it for the money? That I’m living a much-too-luxurious lifestyle?” Thankfully he granted the point, and acknowledged that it was possible to go to a church where the pastor wasn’t some low-life money-grubbing bastard.

Just a few days after that an associate pastor told me that she was going to buy a new car, and some friends advised her to get a used BMW. Same price as a modest new car, they explained, but really a better value. “I can’t do that,” she said. “As a pastor I can’t be seen driving a BMW.” She was right, and I commended her restraint and self-awareness on the matter. A parishioner might see her driving that and not know that she got it used. Back at work the next week I put the following scenario to a couple friends. “Let’s say you go to church this Sunday. As you pull into a parking space, you see that the car pulling in next to you is a BMW. Out steps the pastor who will be preaching that morning. Is that a problem for you?” In the ensuing discussion they made it clear that yes, it would be. Among other things, “How could a pastor tell me to be humble and give generously when he’s cruising around in a luxury car?”

I can already hear the chorus of boos from many of my spiritually corrupted ministerial colleagues. “Why should I care about what the poor rabble think of my spending habits and profligate self-indulgence?” they ask. But to ask such a question is to answer it – at least for a sincere servant of God who lives his life in the shadow of the cross. We do care about what others think. We must. We’re trying to reach them for Christ. We must pay all kinds of personal sacrifices in order to remove hindrances to the gospel. The Apostle Paul, a happy meat-eater like myself, once said that he would become a life-long vegetarian if that’s what it took to keep people from sin (I Corinthians 8:13). I confess my spiritual immaturity, that I would find it terribly hard to forgo hamburgers forever for Jesus’ sake. But to drive a Toyota Corolla rather than a Jaguar even if I could afford one? Come on, that should be a snap.

It is just possible that some minister would respond to this attempt at moral persuasion with, “No. I will enjoy nice things. As for anyone who wrestles with tithing from a meager paycheck to support the lifestyle I think I’m entitled to, well, nuts to him. I don’t care how he perceives me.”

Really? Tell that to Jesus. Either one.

A Criterion For Selecting A Spouse That I Have Never Heard Advocated

The genial old widower lost my sympathy when he got to number 6 on the list of things he wanted in a spouse if he were to remarry. “Lord,” he prayed, “if you have somebody for me, here’s what I would like: someone who is (1) intelligent (2) godly (3) sweet (4) humble (5) attractive” and (6): “Let her not have a lot of complications in her personal life, like grown kids who run around the house smoking dope all the time.”

The first five items were things you would expect to find on the list of any ordinary Christian man who considers himself worthy of a great wife. “Why wouldn’t such a woman marry me?” he thinks. “I myself am intelligent, godly, sweet, humble and attractive, and have other appealing characteristics too. I’m reasonable. I don’t expect a spectacular woman to marry beneath her moral station. All I want is a wife with a subset of the great qualities I already possess.”

Though selfish and self-regarding, it is typical of the things proud Christian men pray for, and I will spend no more time sneering at this part of the list or decrying its presumption. But I do want to attack with holy vigor the sixth criterion: “Let her not have a lot of complications in her personal life.”

Oh good grief. You want a woman without “complications”? Then you are not worthy of a good woman, because you are not good yourself. You don’t want a woman, you want a sanctified pleasure-bot, an individual who can delight you with her godliness and humility and wit and attractive body but not annoy you with those weary, time-consuming, resource-demanding pains of life. The truth is, nearly every potential spouse will have “complications” that require your patience, provoke your tears, eat up your time, deplete your energy, and plead for your help. But that is part of the joyful price to be paid to be in loving partnership with a real human being. Your wife’s “complications” are the very things that constitute your opportunity to sacrifice yourself for Christ’s sake and love her as Christ loved the church.

I admit that the example the man used, if taken literally at every point, would give anyone pause. Grown children (plural) who run around the house (couldn’t they at least sit down, or go outside?) smoking dope all the time (don’t they ever do anything else?). But let me scale back that problem to realistic but still-unpleasant proportions. Suppose a woman has a jobless, sullen, pot-smoking 19-year-old son. Isn’t she far more in need of a husband than a woman who has no such “complication”? The young man is fatherless – his dad died or deserted the family. His mother, straining under her own burdens of grief or abandonment, does not know what to do. Does she turn him over to the police? Confront him and provoke another fight? Keep silent and enable more self-destruction? Evict him in the risky hope that homelessness will teach him responsibility? I could see such a woman longing for a husband to help her to think, to provide steadiness, to offer a shoulder to cry on, and to assure her that she is loved.

But she will get none of that from a man who is praying that God will send him a woman “with no complications in her personal life.” He’s much too focused on getting his own needs met.

The greatest true-life romance I ever read outside of Ruth and Boaz was that of C. S. Lewis and Joy Davidman. Lewis married a woman with complications galore (twice!), and both times it was strictly for her benefit. There was nothing in it for him. Joy was a friend but not a love interest. She was a poor divorced immigrant with two boys, 10 and 12, and she was due to leave England because her visa was up and her application for renewal was denied. She asked Lewis if he would marry her in order to save her from being deported. He did. They had a civil ceremony for a marriage-in-name-only but did not live together as husband and wife. Then within a year Joy got terminal cancer. A kind priest conducted for them a “real” wedding ceremony at Joy’s hospital bedside, and Lewis brought her to his home to provide her with hospice care.

As Lewis wrote later to a friend, friendship gave way to pity which became love. Though Joy was expected to die within days or weeks, her cancer went into remission, and she and Lewis celebrated a joyous three years together before she finally passed away. He grieved as no man ever grieved. Brian Sibley’s account of their romance, Through The Shadowlands, is the only book that ever made me cry. You should also read Lewis’s A Grief Observed.

Ten years ago when I was single and miserable the thought crossed my mind that perhaps God would bring to me a dying woman whose final months I could bless by being her comforter and caretaker. That kind of situation is no one’s first choice in marriage – certainly not mine – but I did earnestly want to help somebody. Though I am a man of a thousand limitations, I wondered if in some narrow range of circumstances there might be a woman whom I could do some good, a woman who would be better off with me than without me.

Eight years ago a widow asked me what I was looking for in a woman, and I had to think for a second because I had made no list of qualities. “I just want someone nice,” I said. She was nice. Still is. Boy is she nice.

I don’t recommend making a list of qualities you’re looking for in a mate, but if you do, could you put this item on your list? Ask God to bring you someone whose “complications” you are suited to address. Don’t look primarily for someone who satisfies you but for someone whom you can satisfy. The last thing Joy Lewis said to her husband on the day she died was, “You have made me happy.” What greater reward than that could any worthy husband know?

Yesterday my nice wife received a Valentine's Day card from her mother. Her mother added this note: "and a special Happy Valentine's day to a special son-in-law who loves my daughter and makes her happy." Believe me, those are the kinds of statements that make marital joy complete.

Matthew 1:18-21: The Best Salvation

(Christmas Day sermon to be preached at Chinese Evangelical Free Church of Greater Chicago, written for the purpose of simultaneous translation into Cantonese.)

Matthew 1:18-21:

This is how the birth of Jesus the Messiah came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit.19 Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly. 20 But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. 21 She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”

There is a Christmas song that is addressed to Mary the mother of Jesus.

It begins with the question: “Mary did you know that your baby boy would one day walk on water?”

I believe Mary would answer, “No, I did not know that.”

The song continues, “Mary did you know that your baby boy would save our sons and daughters?”

I believe Mary would answer, “Yes, I did know that.”

“That is why I named him ‘Jesus’.

Congregation do you know what the name ‘Jesus’ means?

It means, “God saves.”

An angel told Joseph, the husband of Mary, to name her baby “Jesus”.

He was given the name “Jesus” because he would save his people.

But what does he save them from?

There is more than one correct answer to that question.

It is correct to say that Jesus saves his people from the wrath of God.

1 Thessalonians 1:10 says that Jesus saves us from the wrath to come.

Jesus experienced the wrath of God on the cross so that his people would never have to experience it.

It is also correct to say that Jesus saves us from the fear of death.

Hebrews 2:15 says that Jesus frees those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death.

A person who belongs to Jesus Christ is not afraid to die.

Jesus saves his people from the wrath of God.

Jesus saves his people from the fear of death.

Is there anything else that Jesus saves us from?

Yes. I will tell you the most important thing that Jesus saves us from.

In the text that we read, it says in Matthew 1:21 that Jesus will save his people from their sins.

This is not the only verse in the Bible that speaks of salvation from sins.

Psalm 130:8 says that God will redeem Israel from all his sins.

Titus 2:14 says that Jesus gave his life to free us from every kind of sin.

Why do I say that salvation from sin is the most important salvation?

Let us think about it.

Suppose you were free from the fear of death, but you were still a corrupt sinner.

Is that how you would want to approach the end of your life?

Would you want to come to the end of your life unafraid, but still full of selfishness, envy, hatred and contempt?

Or suppose that you were free forever from the wrath of God.

He would never punish you.

But for all eternity you would be just as bad a person as you are now.

Is that how you would like to spend your eternity?

Deep within the hearts of some people there is a longing to be good.

It is a longing so deep that it is like the hunger or thirst of a person who has had nothing to eat or drink for a long time.

The Bible says that such people are blessed by God.

Jesus said, “Blessed are they that hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled.”

Jesus himself is the one who will fill them.

He said “I am the bread of life.”

He said, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink.”

This morning I have a question for you to consider.

Do you want to be good?

Please notice what I am not asking.

I am not asking if you want to go to heaven.

Everyone wants to go to heaven.

I am not asking if you want to have peace, joy, satisfaction and a sense of purpose in your life.

Everyone wants peace, joy, satisfaction and a sense of purpose in their lives.

I am not asking if you want to have good luck and a prosperous new year.

I am not asking if you want health and a long life.

I am not asking if you want an honorable family, or to be highly esteemed by your great grandchildren.

I am asking, “Do you want, more than life itself, to be a good person?”

Do you want to be saved from your sin?

I know a pastor who once asked a little girl the following question.

He said, “If you had to choose, would you rather be happy, or healthy, or holy?”

She said, “I know the right answer is holy, but I would really rather be happy.”

He thanked her for her honesty.

If some of us were as honest as that little girl, we might admit that we would rather be happy than holy.

Today I want to urge you to want holiness more than you want anything else.

More than success, happiness, or peace of mind.

More than a good spouse or worthy children.

More than health and long life.

I can think of four answers to the question, “Do you want, more than anything else, to be good?”

Answer number 1: “No. I like my sin and do not want to change.”

Answer number 2: “I want to be good, but there is something else I want a lot more.”

“What I really want is to get a job that pays me enough money.”

“What I really want is for my husband to stop misbehaving.”

“What I really want is for my children to show me some respect.”

“What I really want is to be healed of my disease.”

Answer number 3: “I am already good. Or at least, good enough.”

“I am not as bad as some other people.”

“I am a decent, respectable person.”

“I treat other people right.”

“Asking me if I want to be good is like asking me if I want to be Chinese.”

“I am Chinese!”

Answer number 4: “Yes. I am not good but I want to be.”

“I hunger and I thirst for true goodness in my heart.”

“Who will free me from my sin?”

If that is your answer, I have good news for you.

Jesus Christ, the Son of God, saves his people from their sins.

His name means “Savior”, and he is a savior from sin.

He and he alone has the power to make you eternally good.

If you go anywhere else in your quest for eternal goodness, you will not find it.

If you go to anyone else, you will only find another sinner like yourself.

But Jesus never sinned.

1 John 3:5 says, “In him there is no sin.”

1 Peter 2:22 says, “He committed no sin.”

2 Corinthians 5:21 says, “He knew no sin.”

And 1 John 3:2 says that the children of God will be like him.

Will we be like him because we look like him?

Will we be like him because we share his power or deity?

No. We will be like him because we too will be without sin.

We who belong to Jesus will finally be good.

The Bible says this will happen when we see him.

It says in 1 John 3:2 that when he appears, we shall be like him.

If you want to be good forever, believe in Jesus Christ.

Be baptized as a sign to all that you belong to him.

He will save you from your sins.

Let us pray.

Father, we echo the words of your servant the Apostle Paul when he asked, “Who will deliver me from this body of death?”

We thank you that we know the answer as well as he.

Jesus your Son offered up his sinless body to save our sinful ones.

Deliver us from our evil deeds and thoughts and make us good forever.

In Jesus’ name, amen.

If You Got To Heaven, Would You Like It?

"What kind of stupid question is that - of course I'd like heaven if I got there. As long as it's got none of that ridiculous stuff like sitting in a cloud and wearing a robe and strumming a harp while a golden halo floats above your head. I'd hate that. But if heaven is a beautiful place of pleasure and bliss and safety, how could anyone not like it?"

I'll tell you. The Bible does not describe heaven as merely a place of endless delight. It is that, yes. But the Bible has other things to say about heaven too - things more important than bliss, things that all of us have despised at some time or other; things that some of us, I'm afraid, will despise for all eternity.

Heaven is a place of virtue. In the Lord's Prayer, Jesus told his disciples to pray, "Your will be done on earth, as it is in heaven." That petition reveals that while God's will is not always done here, it is always done in heaven. Here, people treat God's will with contempt and refuse to do it. St. Paul writes in 1 Thessalonians 4:3, "It is God's will that you should be holy," but we resist God's will by being unholy. In heaven, God's will is obeyed and delighted in all the time. For this reason Jesus instructs us to pray that earth will be like heaven in this sense, that God's desires will be carried out rather than rebelled against.

If you dislike virtue you won't like heaven. Here is a list of adjectives that describe unholy behavior and attitudes: "complaining, contemptuous, cruel, dishonest, greedy, hateful, impatient, impure, irresponsible, irritable, lazy, neglectful, promiscuous, proud, racist, rude, selfish, sexist, undisciplined, unfaithful, unforgiving, ungrateful, violent". That list is not exhaustive, but it will do for now. How many of these adjectives describe you, and how many of these vices would you like to sneak into heaven with you? You will have to leave them all behind. You cannot drag sin into heaven. "Nothing unclean will ever enter it, nor anyone who does what is detestable or false" (Revelation 21:27). In fact, any sin that still clings to you will have to be burned off (1 Corinthians 3:13-15). When all your sin is burned away, what will be left of you?

For years I have been trying, and mostly failing, to get people to read C. S. Lewis' short fantasy novel The Great Divorce. I do not understand why I seem to be the only person who regards it as the greatest book ever written outside the Bible. Could you please read it? It will illuminate for you, in compelling and astonishing ways, the truth that heaven is a place of goodness. Evil, in any of its forms, cannot dwell there. No one can contaminate heaven with vice, and no one can receive heaven on his own sinful terms. Many would rather go to hell than admit that they are wrong and must be remade.

Heaven is a place of virtue, and it is also a place of worship. The Greek word that we translate as "worship" means something like bowing the knee or prostrating oneself. It is our declaration - in word, posture, action and thought - that another is greater than we. In worship you declare your inferiority and another's superiority. Worship is submission, surrender, a placing of oneself under the will and authority of another.

In heaven we worship God. This is one of the themes of the book of Revelation. Revelation chapters 4 and 5 depict magnificent images of creatures and angels in heaven saying "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty" (4:8), and “Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power,for you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created” (4:11). The worship culminates in 5:13: "And I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, saying, 'To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!'"

Does that mean that heaven is like a big church service? If it is, many would rather not go. Maybe they associate worship with stained glass and boring sermons and uncomfortable clothes and slow ponderous songs played on the organ. Or maybe when they think of worship they picture one of those evangelical megachurch extravaganzas that try to duplicate the revved-up atmosphere of a Superbowl halftime show. That style is not everyone's cup of tea either.

But it is important to distinguish between our culture-bound expressions of worship and the essence of worship itself. If we say that we don't like worship, do we just mean that we don't like a certain style of religious music? Nothing wrong with that. But if we mean that we don't want to acknowledge an authority greater than our own, then heaven is not the place for us. We belong in hell. Hell is where you get to clench your fists and say, "I did it my way. I was true to my convictions, and in the face of opposition and obstacle I defended my dignity and self worth." In heaven you bow before God and say, "You alone are good and right and holy. Everything belongs to you. Your will be done. Your name be honored." As the inhabitants of hell cry, "I am worth something!" the citizens of heaven sing, "God is worth everything."

It is not wise to view heaven principally as a place where we get to experience all fun and no pain. That, at best, is putting second things first. It is better to regard heaven as a place where God dwells, and is present to our senses, and at long last grants us freedom to obey and worship him without the hindrance of self-absorption and sin. Would you like that?

Will Getting What You Want Make You Happy?

Malcolm Gladwell opens a delightful and justly famous TED talk by referring to "someone who I think has done as much to make Americans happy as perhaps anyone over the last 20 years...Howard Moskowitz."

What Moskowitz did to make us so happy was to persuade Ragu and Prego to give us different kinds of spaghetti sauce. Before 1990 they made only one kind, but thanks to Moskowitz they now make extra chunky, sweet basil, creamy garlic - more than 30 sauces altogether. Dream up a sauce and you can find it or something pretty close to it on your grocer's shelf. Gladwell says, "What Howard did is he fundamentally changed the way the food industry thinks about making you happy." Moskowitz's great idea quickly spread from Prego and Ragu to other food companies, which is why Starbucks offers so many different kinds of coffee. The best general coffee you can make gets only about a 60 (out of 100) rating from coffee drinkers. But if you offer three varieties (say, light roast, dark roast, and hazelnut), the consumer rating goes from 60 to 78. Gladwell concludes, "The difference between coffee at 60 and coffee at 78 is the difference between coffee that makes you wince and coffee that makes you deliriously happy. That is the final and I think most beautiful lesson of Howard Moskowitz, that in embracing the diversity of human beings, you will find a surer way to true happiness."

Gladwell's speech is a light and informative romp through the work of a food industry genius, and is probably not meant to be taken as a serious reflection on the nature of true happiness. But I will take it that way anyway because of the insight it provides into a common notion about what makes us happy. Happiness - popularly regarded - is satisfied desire. You're unhappy because you don't have what you want. If you get it, you'll be happy.

Take for example pop culture treatments of heaven. Heaven is bliss, right? What could be more blissful than getting whatever you want? In the apocalyptic comedy This Is The End, party boys Seth Rogen and Jay Baruchel are raptured to heaven and greeted at the Pearly Gates by their friend Craig Robinson, who materializes a marijuana joint between Rogen's lips. Rogen whoops, "That's insane!" and Robinson responds, "No, no, no. That's heaven. Anything you can think of - it's yours." So Rogen imagines himself a Segway scooter, and one pops into existence under his feet. Baruchel goes bigger - he wants the Backstreet Boys in concert. Sure enough, the boy band marches in and rocks the heavenlies with a rousing performance of "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)". The party is on, and presumably all live happily forever after.

But do they? I want to see what that heaven looks like a day or two later. Maybe even 15 minutes later, when all are weary of getting whatever they want and find that they are bored out of their minds.

Alice Sebold seems to understand this. In her 2002 bestseller The Lovely Bones, the young teenage protagonist Suzie Salmon is murdered and goes to heaven. She finds that her heaven overlaps with, but is not identical to, other people's heavens. That is because everyone is getting whatever they want. So, for example, in her heavenly high school Suzie only goes to art class and her textbooks are Seventeen, Glamour and Vogue. The ice cream shop always has her favorite flavor. "Do you like it here?" a friend asks. "No," she answers. "Me either." After five days they complain to their intake counselor that they are bored. In fact, the Gladwellian happiness (if I may call it such) of Suzie's heaven makes it such a crushingly dull place that she spends pretty much the rest of the book just spying on her friends and family back on earth.

Though Sebold perceives that satisfied desires don't make you happy (at least not for long), it seems to me that she is unwilling to abandon the idea entirely. It just needs to be tinkered with, delved into a bit more deeply, extended. The problem is that you don't really know what you want. As Suzie's counselor in heaven explains, "All you have to do is desire it, and if you desire it enough and understand why - really know - it will come." That is, your basic notion that satisfied desire will bring you joy is not flawed. It does work, but you will have to go on a pilgrim journey of self-discovery to know what your deepest desires truly are.

C. S. Lewis would have none of that. In his fantasy novel The Great Divorce, he makes the place where departed souls get whatever they want not heaven but hell. Early in the book, a businessman explains to the first-person narrator why Hell-Town is so big. "You see, it's easy here. You've only got to think a house and there it is. That's how the town keeps on growing." He laments this fact. "The trouble is they have no Needs...It's scarcity that enables a society to exist." His plan to remedy the problem involves taking a trip to heaven on the regularly-scheduled flying bus so that he can bring back goodies that even hell can't conjure up. Read the book to see why his scheme must fail. The businessman still regards the granting of desire as an ultimate solution to the problem that he (or society) is facing. But the mere satisfaction of a desire for some New Thing (maybe heaven has it!) will get him no closer to the goal.

Rev. Tim Keller of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in Manhattan likes to tweak ambitious young professionals regarding their illusion that if they can just make enough money, marry the right person and gain renown in their field that they will be happy. "No you won't," says Keller. He quotes from a 1990 essay written by Village Voice columnist Cynthia Heimel, who knew some major celebrities back when they were busing tables and washing dishes. They thirsted for stardom, and a select few actually got it. She writes, "They worked, they pushed, and the morning after each of them became famous, they wanted to take an overdose. Because that giant thing they were striving for, that something that was going to make everything okay, that was going to make their lives bearable, that was going to provide them with personal fulfillment and happiness, had happened. And they were still them. The disillusionment turned them howling and insufferable." Heimel's conclusion is one of the darkest zingers you will ever read: "I think when God wants to play a really rotten practical joke on you, he grants you your deepest wish and giggles merrily when you realize you want to kill yourself."

That kind of cynicism is at least 3,000 years old. Much of the biblical book of Ecclesiastes strikes me as a rambling suicide note from a man who got everything he ever wanted. King Solomon had the time and wherewithal to pursue the satisfaction of every desire, and after gratifying all of them, concluded that life was empty.

What I find particularly compelling about Solomon's quest for happiness is that he pursued the fulfillment of different types of desires. Pleasure, for example: “I denied myself nothing my eyes desired; I refused my heart no pleasure. I amassed silver and gold for myself, and the treasure of kings and provinces. I acquired male and female singers, and a harem as well — the delights of a man’s heart.” But he concludes, “Laughter is madness. And what does pleasure accomplish?”

So he seeks happiness in the fulfillment of Purpose: “I undertook great projects: I built houses for myself and planted vineyards. I made gardens and parks and planted all kinds of fruit trees in them. I made reservoirs to water groves of flourishing trees.” That does not work either: “Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind.”

Realizing that his mistake was in focusing on externals, he decides what he really wants is the life of the mind. “I turned my thoughts to consider wisdom,” he writes. But it's another dead end: “The making of many books is endless, and much study is a weariness of the flesh,” and “with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief.” Solomon drew up a variety of bucket lists, checked off every item, and found that despite everything “I hated life, because the work that is done under the sun was grievous to me. All of it is meaningless, a chasing after the wind." The testimony of the ages seems to be that neither earth nor pop-culture heaven nor Purpose nor the vast resource of our own minds seems to have whatever it is we're looking for.

Here I believe is the reason for the spoiled expectations of Gladwell's coffee, Rogen's and Sebold's heaven, Lewis' hell, Hollywood stardom, and Solomon's riches. In each case, the satisfaction of a desire has been elevated to an Absolute. As such, it is made to do work it can never fulfill. We want the fuel of desire to speed us to the stars when it cannot even burst us free from the gravity of earth.

Note what is conspicuously missing from Rogen's and Sebold's heavens. Neither has a true Absolute. In these wish-fulfillment paradises there is nothing that doesn't change, that cannot be altered by our desires. There is nothing that just Is, that remains forever Itself, that cannot be adjusted or wished into or out of existence. In these popular conceptions of bliss, shape-shifting heaven conforms to us. Essentially, that makes us the God of heaven. And deep within, we know that that is a throne upon which we cannot sit. A satisfied desire is certainly a good thing. But when we elevate it to an Ultimate thing, a thing "greater than which none can be conceived", it is quickly unmasked as an unworthy pretender to Deity, and the sign of that unmasking is existential despair. We become, in Heimel's words, "howling and insufferable".

St. Paul levels an intriguing charge against sinners in Philippians 3:19 when he says, "Their god is their stomach." I don't believe he means they are merely gluttonous. "Stomach" here stands for desire, and "their god" is that which is, to them, their Absolute, their Driving Force, That Which Commands And Must Be Obeyed. These are people who cannot conceive of a happiness greater than getting what they want, and so all their mortal energies are directed toward that end.

It is a dead end. While gratified wishes are not bad, they are not Ultimate, and must never be treated as such. Only when the satisfaction of desire is dethroned as a god can it be embraced as a gift. Happiness is indeed a gift, and, like all gifts, derives from a Giver. Acknowledge him, worship him, give thanks to him, submit your will to his. "Will I be happy then?" you ask. Ah, there's the problem. First things first. You must learn to value something above and beyond your own happiness.

Will God Really Supply Our Needs?

My sister Grace quietly resolved, If I don't have 99 cents by Saturday, I'm not going to church Sunday.

It was the winter of 1973, and she was 24 years old. She and her husband Ron had fallen on hard times. There were weeks when there was so little food in the house that they would hang around church after the worship service to see if anyone would invite them over for lunch.

The humiliation hurt. Grace had one dress, and since it wasn't ok back then to wear slacks to church, she just wore that same dress every Sunday. It got threadbare. When it developed holes in the armpits she patched them with material she cut from the hem.

But the worst of it - at least for her - was the fact that her nylon stockings all had runs. She couldn't bear to be seen in them. A new pair cost 99 cents, which she did not have. But somehow or other she would need to get that 99 cents, otherwise FORGET about CHURCH I'm NOT going to go.

Saturday night came and still no 99 cents. By that point, Grace told me later, she was feeling pretty smug. She had steeled her heart with the grim satisfaction of knowing just how to retaliate against divine unfairness and protect what little dignity she had left. I asked her if she had told Ron of her decision, and she said, "Oh no! I was going to surprise him the next morning with the news that he was going to church alone."

About 8 o'clock Saturday night, there was a knock at the door. It was her friend Joanne. Joanne said, "Grace, this is stupid, I feel silly, but... " and she handed Grace a small package, "could you use a new pair of nylons?"

Somehow Grace held her composure even as she exploded inside with, Oh come on, you have GOT to be KIDDING me. She made it to church the next day, and the week after that, and the week after that, and so on for 42 years.

Twenty years or so after Joanne appeared at her door with the miracle stockings Grace told her what that little gift had meant to her. Joanne had no recollection of the event. She never had a clue that God had used her to rescue my sister from a spiritual meltdown.

I told that story at my home church, Bethany Chapel, on February 1 in a sermon about the Israelites crossing through the Red Sea. Even a month later people were coming up to me and telling me how meaningful that story was to them. Some of them had experienced similar things. So I called my sister Grace and told her that. And she said, "That story, and the incident of the shoes, taught me never to doubt God's provision."

And I said, "Grace, remind me about the shoes."

She said about 30 years ago her 11-year-old son Mark sang in the county children's choir. They had a special concert one Saturday evening, and the dress code for the kids was a white shirt, black pants, and black dress shoes. Mark had the shirt and pants, but all he had for shoes was a pair of sneakers. They couldn't afford dress shoes. So Grace started hunting around. She went to the Salvation Army thrift store and rummaged through the bins at Catholic charities. Nothing. Crestfallen, she told Mark Saturday morning, "I'm sorry Mark. I just couldn't find you any shoes. I'm afraid you can't go to the concert."

Sure enough, another knock at the door. It was a borderline mentally retarded woman in town who had been judged unfit to raise her son. Little Johnny was in foster care where his mother would pay him regular visits. This morning she stood at Grace's door holding a crumpled brown bag. As my sister related the story to me, she mimicked the dear woman's flat Forest Gumpian monotone: "Grace I bought these for Johnny and they don't fit him would they fit one of your boys." And she pulled out of the bag a pair of black dress shoes in Mark's size. Startled, Grace thanked her warmly and took the shoes and raced to her son and said, "Mark! You're going to the concert!"

As it turns out, that's the last time I ever talked to Grace. Two weeks later she was hospitalized with pneumonia, the by-product of a weak immune system compromised by cancer and chemo. Within a few days she was absent of the body and present with the Lord. From the day she was born, July 24, 1948, till the day she died, April 2, 2015, God provided Grace with everything she ever needed. She experienced, and acknowledged before all, the truth of Philippians 4:19: "My God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus."

I can well imagine someone saying, "I'm glad it worked out for your sister Grace. But my story is different. I have had needs that God has not supplied." I would respond with two comments.

First, the promise in Philippians 4:19 is not universal. If you check the context, you will see that it was given to servants of God who had been generous, repeatedly, with what they had. The Apostle Paul first thanked the Philippian Christians for sending him aid while he was in prison (Philippians 4:14-18), and then he said, "And my God will meet all your needs..."

Grace, like the Philippians, qualified on that score. Tales of her generosity are legion. Remember how John the Baptist said, "Whoever has two tunics should share with him who has none" (Luke 3:11)? Grace was so generous that if she had two tunics she would have given you both of them.

Secondly, the promise in Philippians 4:19 is not to supply our wants but our needs. Who is best qualified to determine our needs?

Somewhere around the year 1900 a young Harry Ironside went to do some street preaching in Fresno in response to what he felt was a sudden call from the Lord. He trusted God to supply his need. It didn't seem to happen. Ironside wound up for a time homeless and hungry, trying to sleep on a cold park bench with an empty stomach. What had he done wrong? Nothing. Some weeks later he received a letter from his stepfather, William Watson, which contained the following postscript:

God spoke to me through Philippians 4:19 today. He has promised to supply all our need. Some day He may see that I need a starving. If He does, He will supply that.

Amen. God determines the needs of the faithful, and supplies them. If they need food, he will supply that. If they need a starving, then he will supply that. If they need health, he will give them that. If they need a degenerative ailment that robs them of function and leaves them wholly dependent on the charity of others, he will give them that. Whatever they need.

On April 2, 2015, God determined that Grace Ellen Washburn needed to come home.