Fears: Real and Imagined

Two moments of fear in the life of C. S. Lewis were:

First, in 1926, when a young don at Oxford University, he planned to write a shocker play with a friend of his. First, they created the characters.

A Scientist with "a bright red beard, Mephistophelian in shape but reaching to the waist, very thick lips, and one leg shorter than the other."

A Corpse whose body lay in a coffin packed with ice, but whose brain and nerves were kept alive by injections.

A Hero and a Heroine who found "a poor fellow whose face was badly smashed in the war" huddling by the fire, complaining of the cold and how the Scientist was always chasing him about.

Of course, the Heroine would be the Scientist's next victim . . .

One night as Lewis slept, he dreamed that the Corpse had escaped and run amok, pursuing him about the streets of London and down into the Underground. He managed to reach the lift; the Liftman was terrified; and as the Corpse was about to strike, Lewis screamed, "There's going to be an accidennnnnt!" And then he awoke.

Clearly this was an imagined fear that seemed quite real to Lewis while he slept, but when he woke up, the scream was very real indeed.

Second, in 1929, after some vivid, even lurid, moments of introspection, Lewis came to the realization that Philosophy as the explanation of the universe fell rather short. At that moment he decided to stop philosophizing and start praying. But to whom? And then it happened. He heard a foot upon the staircase in New Building where he was living while at Magdalen College. The door to his room creaked open, and in walked a mummy, heaving and throwing off its grave cloths to reveal a living presence. It was, Lewis could hardly wait to write to his old friend and collaborator, a sort of theological shocker. If it spoke, he heard it say "I am the Lord; I am that I am; I am."

Clearly, this was a real fear, God wrapped like a mummy. Happily, Lewis's very real response was, not to the mummy, but to God, acknowledging at last that He existed.

Several morals present themselves. First, imagined fears sometimes have very real touches in them. Second, real fears are often festooned with bright, imaginative touches. Third, virtually all fears are grizzlies quite willing to hug you to death, squeeze the living daylights out of you. Fourth, the God of all fears, real or imagined, comes whenever you call.