C.S. Lewis Has A Point

 "I’m reading Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis, and I came across a fascinating idea I’ve never heard presented before. Lewis doesn’t state it directly—only its implication—but for his conclusion to hold, it must be inferred. It appears in the chapter “The Cardinal Virtues,” on the final two pages. Lewis distinguishes between performing a just or temperate act and actually being a just or temperate person. A poor tennis player might hit a great shot occasionally, but that doesn’t make him a good player. We all agree on that. Therefore, isolated acts of obedience don’t make one virtuous, character is revealed in consistency. From there, Lewis argues that God wants more than mere obedience. Obedience matters, but God cares far more about our character. He wants us to become people who naturally produce obedient behavior. Then comes the part I've been contemplating for the last few days. Lewis notes that we might assume virtues are needed only for this life, because in heaven there will be nothing to quarrel about (so no need for justice) and no danger (so no need for courage). But he adds that while God won’t refuse entry to heaven for lacking certain qualities, heaven offers no further opportunity to develop them. As a result, we will never attain the “deep, strong, unshakable kind of happiness” God intends. The inference that struck me is this: we may have only our time on earth to become the people God intends us to be. This life forms our capacity for joy, virtue, and glory. Heaven fulfills it but does not expand it through suffering. In heaven there are no trials to forge bravery, self-control, patience, humility, resilience, integrity, gratitude, or joy in the midst of hardship. Those qualities are shaped here, not there. So here's the unsettling question: once we die and enter eternity, is our development finished? Is this life our only chance to become the best version of ourselves? If so, it’s sobering. All the time wasted scrolling Instagram reels or behaving poorly without seeking growth would carry eternal consequences. I should live each day with urgency, taking massive strides toward becoming the man God intends. The day I die, the work ends. My capacity for joy and virtue can no longer grow. I’m not sure if this idea is theologically sound. Maybe it's not. I’d love some insight from theologians who could explain why it might not hold. But if this life truly is our only training ground, delay is far more dangerous than I ever realized. That thought alone makes me want to live with far greater urgency than yesterday."