Thoughts on C. S. Lewis’ Poem:  “An Apologist’s Evening Prayer”.

From all my lame defeats and oh! Much more

From all the victories that I seem to score;

From cleverness shot forth on Thy behalf

At which, while angels weep, the audience laugh;

From all my proofs of Thy divinity,

Thou, who wouldst give no sign, deliver me.

Thoughts are but coins. Let me not trust, instead

Of Thee, their thin-worn image of Thy head.

From all my thoughts, even from my thoughts of Thee,

O thou fair Silence, fall, and set me free.

Lord of the narrow gate and the needle’s eye,

Take from me all my trumpery lest I die. (Poems, p. 143)

Lewis knows the dangers of apologetics. That’s what makes him such a good apologist. The poem, like all good poems, is best left to itself. Nevertheless, I’ll venture a few comments:

           

1) Danger of In House Apologetics: “While angels weep” and “the audience laugh”. It’s easy to do apologetics to those who already believe—they think you’re brilliant, they laugh. Yet “angels weep”.

           

2) Danger of Proofs: “From all my proofs of Thy divinity… deliver me.” Why do we need God’s deliverance from all our “proofs of…divinity”?  I think it has to do with that second stanza: “Thoughts are but coins”. Our arguments are not the real thing. They are but the “thin-worn image.” We prayer for God to set free even from our own “thoughts of Thee”; as if our thoughts, or arguments, or proofs were what’s at stake. Maybe that’s why Lewis stays away from “proofs” and chooses instead to use the word “clues”. There are all sorts of clues to “Thy divinity”.

3) Danger of Heroics: “Take from me all my trumpery lest I die.”  “Trumpery”, great word, except we can’t see a trump word without thinking of our president. Maybe we could try “bombast” or “pomposity” or “bravado”. The kind of thing that causes “audiences to laugh” while “angels weep”.  So we pray, “Take from me all this pretense…”

A.W. Tozer puts it something like this: “If anyone can argue you into the Kingdom of God, someone can come along and argue you out of the Kingdom of God.” Our faith, though we do well to defend it, comes from a deeper place. As the old hymn goes:

            My faith has found a resting place,

                Not in device or creed;

                I trust the every living One,

                His wounds for me shall plead.

                I need no other argument,

                I need no other plea,

                It is enough that Jesus died,

                And that he died for me. (Eliza Hewitt, 1891)

Like all hymns, we could fuss with it here and there. But the jest is good: Faith, to be faith, has to find its resting place. It may be no better than Peter’s confession when our Lord asked him “Do you wish to leave me?” Peter said, “Lord, where else can we go? You have the words of eternal life”. That’s a good confession. Where else are we going to go?