Love Wins

I don't think we would choose God even after one hundred years in hell.

Pause to recover from that last sentence.

If I was an enemy of God from birth, why would I change after I was punished by Him after death?

Really.

C.S. Lewis and Petitionary Prayer

C.S. Lewis and Petitionary Prayer

An important figure in the discussion concerning petitionary prayer and God’s providence is C.S. Lewis. Lewis has written many major works on Christian living and apologetics. He has written essays on the subject of petitionary prayer, and one of his works entitled, Letters to Malcolm, was published posthumously and dedicated as a discourse on prayer. The intent of this article is to examine what C.S. Lewis believed regarding petitionary prayer in four of his works. First, we will examine three of his essays on prayer, and finally we will examine portions from his aforementioned book.

Let us first consider the reason this topic is of interest to Lewis and myself. Lewis wrote in his essay entitled “The Efficacy of Prayer” that, “I have stood by the bedside of a woman whose thighbone was eaten through with cancer and who had thriving colonies of the disease in many other bones as well. …A good man laid his hands on her and prayed. A year later the patient was walking…and the man who took the last X-ray photos was saying, “These bones are as solid as rock. It’s miraculous.””[1] The woman he refers to here is Joy, his wife of little over three years. The essay, was written approximately nine months before his wife was once again diagnosed with cancer in 1959. She died on July 13, 1960.[2] It was after this point that he began working on A Grief Observed, a notebook of his thoughts concerning his grief after the passing of his wife. In it he writes, “What chokes every prayer and every hope is the memory of all the prayers H. and I offered and all the false hopes we had. Not hopes raised merely by our own wishful thinking, hopes encouraged, even forced upon us, by false diagnoses, by X-ray photographs, by strange remissions, by one temporary recovery that might have ranked as a miracle.”[3] He was at the end of his life when he wrote those words, and it seemed that at the point of his wife’s death all of his contemplation on the concept of petitionary prayer was being tried in a furnace. It is my belief that Lewis overcame those final, dark two years before his own death.

Our first essay under consideration is entitled “Work and Prayer” (1945). The question that this essay opens with is, “If He is all-wise, as you say He is, doesn’t He know already what is best? And if He is all-good won’t He do it whether we pray or not?”[4] He begins by stating that this is a common argument against petitionary prayer, because God does not need us to inform Him of anything. He already knows it, and He will act in the best way regardless of our petitions—if it is good, He will do it, and if not, He will not. Lewis writes, “In neither case can your prayer make any difference. But if this argument is sound, surely it is an argument not only against praying, but against doing anything whatever?”[5] He goes on to explain and illustrate how our prayers are no different from our everyday actions. If our objective in prayer is that something we desire to occur be realized, then it is no different from our physical attempts to make something be realized. Lewis then notes, “Why wash your hands? If God intends them to be clean, they’ll come clean without your washing them. If He doesn’t, they’ll remain dirty…however much soap you use.”[6] Essentially, Lewis is saying that because we have the capacity to cause (from a human perspective) real events, we have an obligation and responsibility to act. Our prayers are no different from those actions.

Lewis indicates in this essay that we do have some free will. He writes, “Everyone who believes in God must therefore admit (quite apart from the question of prayer) that God has not chosen to write the whole of history with His own hand. …It is like a play in which the scene and the general outline of the story is fixed by the author, but certain minor details are left for the actors to improvise.”[7] After reading this previous statement, one might be tempted to think that Lewis is not a determinist. Lewis, however, uses this analogy in some of his other works in order to “[emphasize] God’s sovereignty more than human free will. If life is like a play and God is the playwright, then all events in life are planned from the beginning.”[8] Some things, the minor details, are within the bounds of our control. He reasons, “It may be a mystery why He should have allowed us to cause real events at all; but it is no odder that He should allow us to cause them by praying than by any other method.”[9] If our actions are indeed causes, then our prayers are so all the more. Lewis concludes this essay by stating that work and prayer are not entirely different. He illustrates this by saying that when one weeds his field, that one is not acting much differently from when that one prays for a good harvest. Work and prayer, though distinguished in some sense, are similar enough to say that if work has merit, then so does prayer.

The next of Lewis’ essays under consideration is one entitled, “Petitionary Prayer: A Problem Without an Answer” (1953). The main idea of this essay concerns petitionary prayer as found in Scripture. According to Lewis, there seemed to be at least two different patterns of prayer. What he calls the “A Pattern” refers to the prayer that Christ taught us to pray in the Lord’s Prayer and the prayer that Christ prayed in the garden of Gethsemane, “Thy will be done.” Lewis wrote we ought to pray “…well aware that God in His wisdom may not see fit to give us what we ask and submitting our wills in advance to a possible refusal which, if it meets us, we shall know to be wholly just, merciful, and salutary.”[10] Lewis is content with this first pattern as his model for prayer.

He goes on to note that “…whatever faith the petitioner has in the existence, the goodness, and the wisdom of God, what he obviously, even as it were by definition, has not got is a sure and unwavering belief that God will give him the particular thing he asks for.”[11] According to Lewis, this is because, by definition, praying “Thy will be done” is far from the kind of praying faith that has certainty of receiving that request. Here Lewis hits a snag. The “B Pattern” of prayer is not simply a prayer with a general sort of faith but “…faith that the particular thing the petitioner asks will be given him.”[12] Lewis then goes on to list numerous verses from the New Testament that involve certain figures whose ailments were healed as a result of their faith. He continues listing verses that have a direct relationship between prayer and faith. His first reference is Matthew 21:21.[13] Of course, Lewis believed this to be a hyperbole, and not a literal transformation of landscape. Rather, he believed the point to be, “…that the condition of doing such a mighty work is unwavering, unhesitating faith.”[14] The prayer of Christ in the Garden seems to be at odds with the prayer that requires faith. He examines Matthew 21:22[15] more closely. “Can we even here take pisteuvonteV to mean ‘having a general faith in the power and goodness of God’? We cannot.”[16] Lewis references Mark 21:23-24 where it mentions that what we are to believe is that we get “all things” asked for. He feels that it is very difficult to reconcile these two patterns. Nonetheless, Lewis is quick to observe that at times he feels that God is the one who gives such faith that is unwavering. When this seems to be the case, he advocates that we pray after the “B Pattern.” If for other reasons we have not the faith to pray with such confidence, then we must pray after the “A Pattern.”

In the final essay under consideration, entitled, “The Efficacy of Prayer” (1959), Lewis, in commenting on a specific incident where a man’s prayers were seemingly answered by Lewis himself, wrote, “It awed me; it awes me still. But of course one cannot rigorously prove a causal connection between the [man’s] prayer and my visit. It might be telepathy. It might be accident.”[17] In other words, how does one know that the thing that happened wasn’t going to happen anyway? In this essay, Lewis explores the possibility of providing some sort of evidence or analogy in an attempt to better understand a causal connection in petitionary prayer. He concludes that, “Empirical proof and disproof are…unobtainable.”[18] The very thing that one sets out to accomplish by praying as an experiment[19] is destroyed by the fact that one tries to accomplish it with intentions other than receiving an answer to that prayer.

He goes on to explore by means of analogy an understanding of what prayer is like. We ask people for things all the time. In those petitions, “Our assurance is quite different in kind from scientific knowledge. It is born out of our personal relation to the other parties; not from knowing things about them but from knowing them.”[20] For Lewis, petitions to another person are real and effective, and they in some sense “work” when we have a relationship with that person. We have assurance because we know God. Lewis finds that only those who best know God know best whether or not He answered certain prayers. This may work both ways—those who know God best know best what to pray for.

Lewis, however, disliked using the word “work” in conjunction with prayer. He writes “The very question “Does prayer work?” puts us in the wrong frame of mind from the outset. “Work”: as if it were magic, or a machine—something that functions automatically.”[21] Lewis believed that prayer was either an illusion or a real connection between God and man. This brings Lewis to another matter. He asks, “Can we believe that God ever really modifies His action in response to the suggestions of men? For infinite wisdom does not need telling what is best, and infinite goodness needs no urging to do it. But neither does God need any of those things that are done by finite agents, whether living or inanimate.”[22] Lewis says that, although God needs nothing from mankind, He still allows His finite creatures to operate in fallible ways rather than to accomplish His ends apart from His creation. He wrote, “Perhaps we do not fully realize the problem, so to call it, of enabling finite free wills to co-exist with Omnipotence. It seems to involve at every moment almost a sort of divine abdication.”[23] For Lewis, this is the reason for petitionary prayer. It is necessary because God has allowed us to become participants in his Creation as co-creators.

In conclusion of his essay, Lewis writes, “Our act, when we pray, must not, any more than all our other acts, be separated from the continuous act of God Himself, in which alone all finite causes operate.”[24] From this last statement, it seems that Lewis believes in a sort of determinism, where our actions are held within God’s supreme providential causes. Our prayers, then, are to be like any of our other actions, which are part of God’s working in creation.

The final work under consideration is Lewis’ series of fictional letters to a fictional character in a book entitled Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer, written subsequent to his wife’s death.[25] Once again, in considering prayer, Lewis seems to have been deterministic in a different sense. In contemplating the different objections to petitionary prayer, Lewis writes, “There is, for example, the Determinism which, whether under that name or another, seems to be implicit in a scientific view of the world. Determinism does not deny the existence of human behaviour. It rejects as an illusion our spontaneous conviction that our behaviour has its ultimate origin in ourselves.”[26] Lewis believed, then, that every action, voluntary or involuntary, results from causes outside ourselves, or from within ourselves which has its origin as a result of external causes. “I am a conductor, not a source. I never make an original contribution to the world-process. I move with that process not even as a floating log moves with the river but as a particular pint of water itself moves.”[27] Lewis continues by saying, “But even those who believe this will, like anyone else, ask you to hand them the salt. …If a strict determinist believed in God (and I think he might) petitionary prayer would be no more irrational in him than in anyone else.”[28] It is difficult to actually pinpoint what Lewis believes in terms of God’s providence, but in a later chapter of his Letters to Malcolm, he indicates that Scripture says, ““Work out your own salvation in fear and trembling”—pure Pelagianism. But why? “For it is God who worketh in you”—pure Augustinianism. …We profanely assume that divine and human action exclude one another like the actions of two fellow-creatures so that “God did this” and “I did this” cannot both be true of the same act except in the sense that each contributed a share.”[29] It seems that Lewis advocates a sort of providence that is compatible with human free will. In conclusion, Lewis was not a very strict determinist, and he had some Molinistic tendencies.[30] As far as his understanding of providence was concerned, petitionary prayer still mattered immensely, because it worked in conjunction with God’s providence.

In summation, C.S. Lewis believed that petitionary prayer not only had merit, but that it mattered just as much as any other action mattered. Works and prayer are essentially on the same level. If our works can cause events, why cannot our prayers cause events any less? Lewis also believed that Scripture lays out two different patterns of petitionary prayer. The “A Pattern” makes perfect sense and would seem to be the best model for prayer. The “B Pattern” however, is somewhat problematic in lieu of the former pattern. Though it is difficult to reconcile the two patterns, Lewis believed that each pattern bore significance in a Christian’s life whether or not that Christian has the kind of faith necessary to pray after the “B Pattern.” Lewis also believed that there was no empirical way of determining a causal relationship between petitionary prayer and answered prayer. Rather, the best way of understanding petitionary prayer is through relational means. Because we know God, we can know that He answers prayer. Finally, Lewis understood that our prayers work in conjunction with God’s working in the world in some mysterious way, just as our actions are somehow compatible with God’s providence. In our attempts at understanding how petitionary prayer fits into out lives, we can learn many practical insights from C.S. Lewis. He had many of his own experiences with answered petitions. At the end of his life, after his wife died, he struggled for a time but eventually felt God’s presence once more. “I have gradually been coming to feel that the door is no longer shut and bolted,” he wrote.[31] According to Lewis, petitionary prayer, the door upon which one “knocks and receives,” is a wide-open reality.

Works Cited

Gresham, Douglas. Jack’s Life. Nashville, TN: Broadman & Holman, 2005. Print.

Lewis, C.S. Christian Reflections. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans Publishing, 1967. Print.

---. God in the Dock. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans Publishing, 1970. Print.

---. A Grief Observed. New York, NY: HarperCollins, 1961. Print.

---. Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer. San Diego, CA: Harcourt Brace, 1964. Print.

---. The World’s Last Night and Other Essays. San Diego, CA: Harcourt Brace, 1960. Print.

Vaus, Will. Mere Theology: A Guide to the Thought of C.S. Lewis. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2004. Print.

End Notes

---

[1] The World’s Last Night, LN 3-4.

[2] Gresham 157.

[3] A Grief Observed, AGO 30.

[4] God in the Dock, GD 104.

[5] Ibid. 105.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Vaus 53.

[9] GD 106.

[10] Christian Reflections, CR 143.

[11] Ibid.

[12] Ibid. 144.

[13] “Our Lord says… ‘If you have faith with no hesitations or reservations, you can tell a mountain to throw itself into the sea and it will’” (CR 146).

[14] Ibid. 147.

[15] “And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith” (CR, n.2 147).

[16] Ibid. 147.

[17] LN 3.

[18] Ibid. 6.

[19] Lewis gave the illustration of an experiment where one prays for hospital A and not hospital B, to see if there are less deaths as a result. However, he concludes that the moment you begin such an experiment, you’ve lost the purpose for praying. You are no longer praying for healing, you are praying to see what happens. (LN 5-6)

[20] Ibid. 7.

[21] Ibid. 8.

[22] Ibid. 8-9.

[23] Ibid. 9.

[24] Ibid. 10.

[25] Gresham 161.

[26] Letters to Malcolm, LM 36.

[27] Ibid. 37.

[28] Ibid.

[29] Ibid. 49-50.

[30] At the same time, it seems that he believes in middle knowledge (though as far as I have read, I have never come across his usage of the word). This is one way in which he attempts to explain the causal relationship between prayer and answers, for he writes, “I would rather say that from before all worlds His providential and creative act (for they are all one) takes into account all the situations produced by the acts of His creatures. And if He takes our sins into account, why not our petitions?” (LM 50). Because God sees everything as an ever-present now, He sees our prayers and takes them into account.

[31] AGO 46.

Righteous Retribution?

You wanna know what cracks my knuckles? The difficulty in trying to hold with one hand Christ's example of how Christians ought to act and trying to hold with the other hand the seemingly natural retributive impulses humans have in response to injustice. In other words, what Heynes (the victim?) does in response to Gale (undoubtedly in the wrong) is somewhat difficult and problematic for the Christian to justify in light of Christ's example in the Apostle Peter's teachings.

Part I

I do not think, necessarily so, that the “breaking of the neck” (or ankle, or whatever) is the appropriate response for anyone, no matter how much evil was done to Heynes. Why? Simply because Christ taught us otherwise. Now, before you jump up and say, "Aha! Got you there! So are we supposed to let people walk all over us?" allow me to say, no, I do not believe we ought to let people walk all over us. But what was it, exactly, that Christ taught us concerning these kinds of situations? Well, we could examine his teachings and find what my colleague, Aronne, was so apt to point out, that we ought to turn the other cheek, give the extra cloak, walk the extra mile. So what, then, Gale is just in treating Heynes in that way? Certainly not! Christ never taught that being struck on the cheek, being robbed of a cloak, being forced to walk a mile was just in anyway on the part of the one who inflicts such injustices. But in order to understand this, we must examine a sort of higher teaching, the example that Christ left behind for us to follow.

1 Peter 2:17-25 says, "Honor all people, love the brotherhood, fear God, honor the king. Servants, be submissive to your masters with all respect, not only to those who are good and gentle, but also to those who are unreasonable. For this finds favor, if for the sake of conscience toward God a person bears up under sorrows when suffering unjustly. For what credit is there if, when you sin and are harshly treated, you endure it with patience? But if when you do what is right and suffer for it you patiently endure it, this finds favor with God. For you have been called for this purpose, since Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example for you to follow in His steps, WHO COMMITTED NO SIN, NOR WAS ANY DECEIT FOUND IN HIS MOUTH; and while being reviled, He did not revile in return; while suffering, He uttered no threats, but kept entrusting Himself to Him who judges righteously; and He Himself bore our sins in His body on the cross, so that we might die to sin and live to righteousness; for by His wounds you were healed. For you were continually straying like sheep, but now you have returned to the Shepherd and Guardian of your souls" (NASB).

Part II

I find here that we are commanded to “honor all people,” without limitation. After this statement, Peter launches into a discussion concerning masters and servants. Servants are admonished to be submissive to their masters, “not only... to those who are good and gentle,” the kind persons worthy of service, “but also to those who are unreasonable,” the unkind persons unworthy of service. Why? Peter reasons by saying, “For this finds favor….” This thing is commendable before God. How? Peter continues, “…if for the sake of conscience toward God a person bears up under sorrows when suffering unjustly.” And again, “…if when you do what is right and suffer for it you patiently endure it, this finds favor with God.” So essentially, the one who finds favor with God, is the one who bears up under injustice in a patient and forgiving manner. And it is for this very reason that we are Christians (literally, "little Christs"). This is our purpose, “For you have been called for this purpose, since Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example for you to follow in His steps….” Dare we forget as Christians, that we, too, were the very persons who treated Christ much the same way that Gale treated Heynes (is that really too much of a stretch?)? “…and He Himself bore our sins in His body on the cross, so that we might die to sin and live to righteousness; for by His wounds you were healed.” We are the cause of those wounds. And yet, as Christ suffered unjustly at our hands, and he did so without sin: “WHO COMMITTED NO SIN, NOR WAS ANY DECEIT FOUND IN HIS MOUTH; and while being reviled, He did not revile in return; while suffering [unjustly], He uttered no threats, but kept entrusting Himself to Him who judges righteously.” Wow. Can we just stop for a minute and examine closely that last statement. Christ trusted the just and righteous God of the universe with his unjust inflictions! If there were anyone in the history of the world who deserved to break someone’s neck for unjust treatment it would be Christ! He alone was blameless, and capable of acting with righteous retribution. We see, however, that when He was treated unjustly, He did not retaliate in anyway. But instead, He humbly gives up his right to carry out retribution and gives it to God, trusting that God will bring about justice. Now, I have not even come close to sufficiently unpacking the meaning of this section of Scripture, but suffice it to say that this is the example that we ought to follow.

Part III

How should one respond in a situation like Heynes’? Well, I am not of the camp that we as Christians can be treated like dirt, but I am neither a part of any sort of camp that utilizes any form of wrongdoing in its act of retribution. I do believe certain individuals have the right and moral obligation to carry out retribution (see Romans 13), and one cannot overlook the fact that there is a method for it, not simply a sort of free-for-all get to "give it" anyway I want. Ultimately, it must be done in a blameless way. 1 Peter 2:12 says, “Keep your behavior excellent among the Gentiles, so that in the thing in which they slander you as evildoers, they may because of your good deeds, as they observe them, glorify God in the day of visitation.” No matter what we are accused of, however untrue or unjust, our obligation as Christians is to maintain moral excellence in all of our actions. Why? So that it points them to God. That’s one reason why Christ left us an example. We exemplify Christ, and in so doing, we point others to Him. So then, can we inflict retribution on those who have wronged us? I believe that I have to conclude yes—so long as it is within the bounds of being blameless in every step of the way, and so long as it is within the bounds of civil law (we are, after all, in subjection to the authorities, who hold the right to carry out retribution; see Romans 13). If there is even the slightest hint of sin or evil in such said retribution, then we have become violators of God’s law. We in essence become no better than the one who inflicted damage on us in the first place. In certain cases, certain types of retribution are required. But all of this, I have very high reservations for! Why? Consider Matthew 18:21-35. What of this parable of the unmerciful servant? Can we really demand retribution from another, when we ourselves are guilty of the same sins? James 2:13 says, “For judgment will be merciless to one who has shown no mercy; mercy triumphs over judgment.” Can we really claim retribution when we ourselves deserve it? So it seems then, that rather than seeking to dole out retribution, we ought to give away mercy, for mercy triumphs over judgment! Christ did not come to die for us, so that we could lord our “rights” over others and demand payment for what others owe us! Did He not die to show mercy to all—ourselves included—that we might show mercy to others as well? O how this tears at my heart, for I can say this—perhaps even believe it—but it matters naught unless I am able to live it!

“To sum up, all of you be harmonious, sympathetic, brotherly, kindhearted, and humble in spirit; not returning evil for evil or insult for insult, but giving a blessing instead; for you were called for the very purpose that you might inherit a blessing.” —1 Peter 3:8-9 (NASB)

You cannot misinterpret this last verse. No matter how hard you may try.

Three Unrelated Poems

March has been a good month for me poetically. I have completed a dozen, about half of which I think will still appeal to me once the glow of recent composition wears off.

Finding people who appreciate (much less love) poetry isn't easy. Even I don't enjoy as much as I want to. Like opera, I knew it was supposed to be fabulous, but hadn't taken the time to understand it. But I'm getting there.

Below are three poems that have stemmed from my effort to be more aware of the poetry around me, if you will.


The first poem concerns my annoyance with The Avatar Complex or, as en karin puts it, "the perpetration of ignorance."

Better Off Benighted

Ah noble savage! When he found his way
(According to the historian’s lay)
To heights divine as sacred night and day,
Our miracles are nothing in the light
Of the noble savage’s ancient night
Remove the scales from your old modern sight!
You’d be better off benighted,
To dark ringing heights alighted.

March 2, 2011 - Inspried by Poetic Asides’ Wednesday Prompt 125


I hope I'm not being indelicate when I post this next, more humorous poem:

Sniff

Deodorant is a gift from above!
It allows woman any man to love;
And saves our large American noses
From what isn’t quite the scent of roses.
Sports fans without worry games may attend
For their stout senses nothing shall offend—
Well, unless someone forgetful forgot
To mask what’s far far far grosser than snot.
That merry invention blesses us still
That of fresh air I can now get my fill.

March 20, 2011


The last piece is a bit of found poetry (of sorts) that I caught while making myself breakfast.

I’m Sorry

We have to work for everything,
Work, work, even if you’re gifted,
It’s all the same:
“I’m sorry, this box
Is not an instant winner.”

March 25, 2011


The above shows much improvement over the poetry I wrote at age 17, but that doesn't mean it comes half as naturally as I would like. Therefore, I invite constructive criticism positive and negative.

When to Pun Or Patience is an Opera

Like any language, English is full of homonyms, which leads to - besides confusion in ESL Class - plays on words. The pun is derided by certain dour persons as the lowest form of humor (though certainly crass deserves that ignominious title). Others, such as my colleague and friend DM, take much pleasure in a good (and indeed, often in a lame) pun. What should we make of this lingual device? It is my opinion that the intent of the teller and the situation in which the telling happens determines the effect of a pun.

Puns become groaners for two reasons: 1) it's horribly constructed, or 2) the person sharing his gem of wit appears to be doing so to please his ego. When you get the feeling that the other person is simply flaunting his wit for our benefit, it hardly leaves one in a position to enjoy the pun. Pride ruins more than your standing with God, folks. Of course, it is possible to receive the impression of a self-centered pun when it is not at all intended that way. It happens.

Naturally, the timing of the pun is also important. Comic timing is an art that I don't pretend to know a lot about, but I can sense when it's not the right time to crack a joke. Better than I used to, at least. The same goes for puns.

Also, I believe that accidental puns can be some of the most enjoyable. What better way for a person to distance himself from his joke so that everyone can enjoy it in its purest form?

I may return to this post and revise for concision, but until thin, you'll have to diet. That would be an accidental pun, actually...

(And Patience really is an opera. Not making that up.)

The Wonder of Existence - Part I

While sitting on my bed reading The Canterbury Tales and listening to Gounod's Faust, I caught a draft of the wonder of existence. I do not know if it can be described, but I should at least try.

First, allow me to offer some philosophical musings.

Yes, existence is a wonder in itself. Great the power to have invented it. And good as well, for any flawed being to gave given shape to such a reality would have long since taken a rage out on it and effected its destruction. And if not that, this being of power would, if sentient (how could it be otherwise?), make itself known and plunge us into a wretched servitude. For absolute power corrupts as surely as anything. And yet its power could not be absolute, for it would not have the power to be good.

(But, you may ask, what of a perfect power? Would have the ability to be evil? Possibly.)

So we exist. Without that postulate in place, nothing has meaning. And we cannot exist without something having initiated that state. Such a thing must be higher than we. After all, we cannot create something more clever than ourselves, or more powerful. Stronger perhaps, but not greater. Only intentionally could man invent a robot which would turn against him, unless there are strange, undiscovered physical principles which could alter this reality.

Therefore to create the wonder that is mankind, the higher power had to be just that: higher than the highest pinnacle of man's might and virtue. If this power still exists, it would seem advantageous to acquaint oneself with this force of good. Indeed, what else could be more important than in discovering what one's inventor designed him to be? We may form our own opinions concerning our fate, but until compared with something higher than mankind, how is one opinion to be judged better than another?

Then we exist and, at least at one time, a good higher power existed. If the power has expired since the beginning of the world, we may create our own purpose, since - beyond what we can determine from our genetic predispositions - we are unillumined as to our creator's purpose for us. But why would the inventor depart from our reality without leaving some missive for his children? He must have been capable, having brought into existence the greatest wonders we can perceive. Did he perish in the travails of creation? Yet still he could have left a mark even more easily deciphered than the grandeur of the work of his hands, unless his end took him by surprise, which is scarcely in keeping with the unsurpassed intelligence and power with which we have since credited him.

Suppose then that this power did survive the first act of his of which we are aware. If that is the case, the above concerning knowing him holds true.

I haven't quite decided what I'll write in Part II. Perhaps a combination of description and poetry - something to express emotionally this great wonder.

Anywho, feel free to comment on and correct the above.

Effect Effects

You know what really misplaces my modifiers? Watching a movie for its CGI effects.

Sure, the extreme geeks who do that sort of thing as a hobby are more or less off the hook, but the rest of us — come on, people. It’s like reading a book for its excellent grammar construction, eating something because it looks good (when you know it’s going to taste bad — like cheesecake), playing a boring video game for its graphics, or listening to a CD because the handsome booklet cover.

—Or listening to music for its chordal progressions. I don’t care about your clever chord combos if the other parts of your music are yucky! Sure, some of the best music contains excellent chord progressions, but they rarely draw attention to that sole aspect — but instead excel in most all aspects. Okay, got that out of my system. Moving on:—

None of these qualities are bad, but are instead generally pleasing. After all, we expect books to have good grammar, food to look good, video games to be fun, and CD covers to be tasteful — but what about when those are the only merits present?

Let’s stick with the grammar illustration: Like grammar, CGI is a fine thing which may be enjoyed in its own right, but when that is all that remains recommendable in a final product, then something is wrong. Take Avatar: Horrible plot-line, leftist propaganda, naked female aliens — however you slice it, a waste of time, money, and artistic sensibilities. Sure, it probably entertains, but so does reading the dictionary (something I need to do more often).

One good thing does not redeem everything else. Hm, reminds me of our music discussion... Anyway, am I off my nut here? Or am I simply missing something?