"If you asked twenty good men today what they thought the highest of virtues, nineteen of them would reply, Unselfishness. But if you had asked almost any of the great Christians of old, he would have replied, Love. You see what has happened? A negative term has been substituted for a positive, and this is of more than philological importance. The negative idea of Unselfishness carries with it the suggestion not primarily of securing good things for others, but of going without them ourselves, as if our abstinence and not their happiness was the important point. I do not think this is the Christian virtue of Love. The New Testament has lots to say about self-denial as an end in itself. We are told to deny ourselves and to take up our crosses in order that we may follow Christ; and nearly every description of what we shall ultimately find if we do so contains an appeal to desire. If there lurks in most modern minds the notion that to desire our own good and earnestly to hope for the enjoyment of it is a bad thing, I submit that this notion has crept in from Kant and the Stoics and is no part of the Christian faith. Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased."
C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
Last night, after leaving an amazing night at club where I grumbled slightly at the facts that (a) God had not created me to be a rock star, though my heart deeply wishes I could belt one out like the Martinas, the Sarahs, the Whitneys and the Celines, and (b) along with point a, that life is not a musical, and Troy Bolton will not be showing up in a tux in a tree to give me flowers and tell me that "his prom is wherever I am", I proceeded, in the torrential rain, to the nearest Barnes and Noble, only to get soaked as I attempted to get my umbrella from the trunk of my car and enter the fine literary establishment whose fire alarm was going off at deafening decibels.
However, any moderate reader would know that once inside, an endless array of opportunity awaits. So I picked up my own copy of The Weight of Glory, as well as a brand new journal (which I have found is one of the most therapeutic times I enjoy once every few months), and made my way back home.
What a glorious night. Sitting in my bed, rain on my window, starting a new book from a noteworthy author that I was sure would not disappoint. Chapter 1, line 1: "If you asked twenty good men today what they thought the highest of virtues...". Bam. Thank you CSL. You rock.
I am far too easily pleased, and therefore in the same vein, far too easily disappointed. I, like the child, fool around with mud pies in the slums, forsaking the incredible vacation offered. And yet when I realize that I am dirty and my hands smell, I am disappointed that the mud had not been all that I had hoped. My desires are far too weak, running after money, success, relationship, recognition, and discarding the infinite joy, the ultimate pleasure, the complete righteousness and glory offered at His right hand.
Page 1. Awesome. Can't wait to see what pages 2-200 have yet to offer.
And ps...I love the term "holiday". When we were in Cancun in September, we met a few guys from London who stated they were in Mexico for a few weeks "on holiday". I have decided that vacation will be removed and holiday inserted into my natural, and perhaps daily, vocabulary. Just sounds so much cooler. Now here's to hoping that this fine institution that continues to employ me (thankful to have a job!) could find it in their hearts to grant me a holiday sometime soon!
Love y'all :)
