Day 40: As We Forgive Others: Double Standards and the Fatigue of Repentance (31st August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: The Double Standard of Excuses, Forgiving vs. Excusing Others, and Spiritual Fatigue
• Source Material: "On Forgiveness" (The Weight of Glory)

My Reflection

Today’s passage brings Lewis's thoughts on forgiveness to a close by highlighting a very human double standard. When it comes to our own mistakes, we accept our excuses far too easily; when it comes to others, we rarely accept them easily enough.

Lewis makes a crucial distinction here: forgiving someone who has wronged you does not mean pretending the offence never happened. If someone breaks a solemn promise, that broken promise is exactly what requires forgiveness. As Lewis notes, this does not mean you are obligated to believe their next promise. It simply means you must make every effort to kill the resentment and the desire to retaliate. This perfectly aligns with the old adage, "I can forgive, but I won't forget." Forgiveness is the release of malice, not the erasure of memory or the abandonment of healthy boundaries.

However, I must admit that spending so many consecutive days focused on sin, failure, and repentance has left me feeling distinctly fatigued. It begs the question: when do we ever just get the chance to enjoy life?

I struggle deeply with the theological framework that insists humans are intrinsically bad, corrupt, and in need of constant chastisement. While man's inhumanity to man is a tragic reality that never ceases to sadden me, I firmly believe that we are all inherently capable of goodness, change, and redemption.

There is a real danger in this relentless focus on human flaws. When a belief system constantly tells people they are broken and require forgiveness, it can easily become coercive and controlling. It risks breaking a person’s spirit, stripping away their confidence, and leaving them vulnerable to manipulation by those who use guilt to control a community. True faith and reflection should ultimately uplift and inspire us to live well, not trap us in a perpetual state of anxiety and repentance.

Day 39: The Courage to Be Forgiven: Dropping Our Defences (30th August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: Dropping Our Excuses, Trusting in Grace, and the Relief of True Forgiveness
• Source Material: "On Forgiveness" (The Weight of Glory)

My Reflection

Today’s passage continues our exploration of forgiveness and strikes a very personal chord. When I read Lewis’s words today, I immediately saw my own attitude reflected back at me. Why are we so desperate to offer "extenuating circumstances"? I think the reason so many of us feel the need to meticulously explain our behaviour—to present the "what you need to know" alongside our apology—is rooted in a deep-seated fear or disbelief that we can ever be truly forgiven without a caveat.

Repentance is a fiercely difficult act, so we instinctively try to soften the blow and make the process easier for ourselves.

Lewis offers two profound remedies for this habit. The first is a deeply comforting thought: God already knows all of our real excuses, far better than we do. As Lewis beautifully suggests, we may one day have the delightful surprise of discovering we sinned far less than we thought because God factored in the circumstances we were unaware of. When we go to the doctor with a broken arm, we don't waste time explaining that our throat and eyes are fine; we simply present the broken bit. In the same way, we are only meant to bring the "inexcusable bit" to God.

The second remedy is simply trusting that true forgiveness exists. As Lewis writes:

"A great deal of our anxiety to make excuses comes from not really believing in it, from thinking that God will not take us to Him-self again unless He is satisfied that some sort of case can be made out in our favour. But that would not be forgiveness at all."

Focusing purely on the exact thing we need forgiveness for, without wrapping our contrition in a defensive layer of excuses, can feel terrifying. It requires us to look steadily at the unvarnished truth of our actions. But trusting that we have been forgiven—and extending that same grace to ourselves—is the only way to finally step out of the darkness and into the light.

Day 38: Forgiving Versus Excusing: The Struggle for True Absolution (29th August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: The vital distinction between being excused and being forgiven.
• Source Material: "On Forgiveness" (The Weight of Glory)

My Reflection

Today’s passage dives deeper into the mechanics of forgiveness, and its subtle distinctions can initially feel quite challenging to unpick. Lewis draws a sharp, uncomfortable line between forgiving and excusing, two concepts we frequently tangle together.

When an action is excused, it means there is a valid justification; you were not truly to blame, and therefore no real pardon is necessary. Forgiveness, on the other hand, is much heavier. It requires a full admission of wrongdoing. It essentially says: "You have no excuse, you are entirely to blame, and yet I pardon you completely."

Lewis actively agrees that in real life, situations are rarely black and white. There is almost always a mixture of the two. We often have extenuating circumstances—perhaps we were exhausted, provoked, or ill-informed—which might excuse a portion of our behaviour. But Lewis warns against using those valid excuses to mask the whole offence. The danger lies in approaching God (or those we have hurt) merely to present our justifications, hoping to be let off on a technicality, whilst ignoring the "inexcusable bit" that requires genuine repentance and actual forgiveness.

This directly speaks to my profound point about the lingering difficulty of self-forgiveness. Why do actions from years ago still play on our minds? Perhaps it is because, deep down, we have spent years trying to excuse those actions to ourselves, rather than fully facing them, accepting the blame, and allowing ourselves to be truly forgiven. An excuse only satisfies the conscience temporarily because we know we are still partially at fault; true forgiveness, though painful to ask for, is the only thing that genuinely clears the slate.

Historical Footnote (29th August)

• 1894: Albert James Lewis and Florence Augusta ("Flora") Hamilton are married at St. Mark's, Dundela, Belfast.

Day 37: The Hierarchy of Sins and the Hissing Snakes (28th August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: The Command to Forgive, Transactional Motives, and Extreme Grace
• Source Material: "On Forgiveness" (The Weight of Glory)

My Reflection

Today’s passage steps away from domestic squabbles and presents a much steeper challenge. Forgiveness is a word we hear bandied about quite freely these days, but in practice, we all know some things are far easier to forgive than others. I can usually forgive someone for eating my last piece of chocolate (though that is a challenge in itself) or for minor petty thefts. Yet, in our minds, there exists an unwritten hierarchy of sins. While we are commanded to forgive all offences, some present such a colossal challenge they border on the impossible.

I am fortunate to have only once been in a situation where I had to work very, very hard at forgiveness. It took a long time, but I eventually got there. However, looking back, I often question my own motives. I felt I needed to forgive simply to move on with my life, to stop being weighed down by the anchor of anger and resentment. It certainly cleared the way for my own peace, but were those the right motives? Was my forgiveness purely transactional? Was I doing it for my own benefit rather than for the person I was forgiving?

Then there are situations where forgiveness feels entirely unimaginable. How do we forgive acts of sheer barbarity, mass murder, or genocide? This is the ultimate test—one I have thankfully been spared. Whenever I see a grieving parent stand up in a courtroom to tell their child’s murderer that they forgive them, I marvel at their profound courage and strength. I genuinely do not know if I could do the same.

To lighten the mood on what is quite a heavy reading today, Lewis’s mention of the Lord's Prayer reminded me of my old school assemblies. We would dutifully recite the prayer together, only for the headmaster to regularly berate us. Whenever we reached the line, "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us," he would complain that we all sounded like a bunch of hissing snakes.

Historical Footnote (28th August)

• 1947: C.S. Lewis writes “On Forgiveness" at the request of Father Patrick Kevin Irwin for inclusion in the parish magazine of the Church of St. Mary, Sawston, Cambridgeshire.

Day 36: "All I Said Was...": The Double Standard of Domestic Quarrels (27th August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: Passive-Aggression, Double Standards, and Domestic Misunderstandings
• Source Material: The Screwtape Letters

My Reflection

I found today’s passage genuinely funny, largely because it paints such an unerringly accurate portrait of daily domestic life. Lewis brilliantly captures the anatomy of those petty arguments where both parties walk away utterly convinced that the other is entirely in the wrong.

Screwtape lays out the mechanics of this friction by encouraging a very specific double standard in communication:

"Your patient must demand that all his own utterances are to be taken at their face value and judged simply on the actual words, while at the same time judging all his mother's utterances with the fullest and most over-sensitive interpretation of the tone and the context and the suspected intention... You know the kind of thing: 'I simply ask her what time dinner will be and she flies into a temper.'"

All of these disagreements are borne from simple misunderstandings, where each person incorrectly interprets the other's comments or tone of voice. I know from personal experience exactly how this feels. Over the years, however, I have learnt not to attach too much importance to these moments. When viewed in the cold light of morning, they invariably reveal themselves for what they truly are: minor, fleeting annoyances—a proverbial storm in a teacup.

Yet, I do recognise the inherent danger Lewis is highlighting here. If this kind of passive-aggressive interaction becomes the accepted norm between two people, they are headed into much darker territory. Over time, this double standard breeds deep-seated resentment, forcing us to interact with a false, villainised image of the person we love. This, of course, plays directly into Screwtape and his minion’s hands, achieving their exact desired outcome.

Accepting these moments of friction as part and parcel of a normal, long-term relationship strips them of their destructive power. When we see them for what they are, we can step off the battlefield, drop the double standard, and simply move on.

Day 35: Under the Same Roof: Petty Annoyances, Blind Spots, and Domestic Affection (26th August)

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: Domestic Quirks, Microscopic Irritations, and Lack of Self-Awareness
• Source Material: The Screwtape Letters

My Reflection

There is something wonderfully recognizable—and quietly funny—about today’s excerpt from The Screwtape Letters. When two people spend years living closely together, microscopic habits inevitably take root: a specific tone of voice, a particular roll of the eyes, or an expression learned all the way back in the nursery.

Screwtape zeroes in on this effortless avenue for temptation:

"When two humans have lived together for many years it usually happens that each has tones of voice and expressions of face which are almost unendurably irritating to the other. Work on that. Bring fully into the consciousness of your patient that particular lift of his mother's eyebrows... and let him think how much he dislikes it. Let him assume that she knows how annoying it is and does it to annoy... And, of course, never let him suspect that he has tones and looks which similarly annoy her."

The advice is devilishly simple, and it strikes right at the heart of human nature. We can become hyper-focused on someone else's minor quirks, treating them as deliberate provocations while completely ignoring our own equally frustrating habits. Because we cannot see or hear ourselves, we remain blissfully blind to our own annoying traits.

These petty triggers can easily act as a tinderbox for daily arguments. Yet, looking at it with a bit of lived experience, these small friction points are simply par for the course in any normal, long-term relationship.

The real magic lies in how we handle them. We can choose to let these minor peccadillos fester into major grievances, or—if we catch ourselves—we can find humour in them. Often, being able to laugh at the other person’s quirks (and, just as importantly, at our own) turns a potential argument into a shared joke. In a strange way, these affectionate, petty squabbles are rarely a sign of brokenness; more often, they are the eccentric, lived-in texture of deep affection and enduring love.

Day 34: Abstract Piety vs Real Empathy: Domestic Friction and the Danger of Detached Ideals (25th August)

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: Domestic Irritation, Abstract Spirituality, and Real-World Empathy
• Source Material: The Screwtape Letters

My Reflection

Moving past the discussions on gluttony, today’s excerpt from The Screwtape Letters turns its focus squarely to domestic relationships and the subtle ways family members grate on one another's nerves.

Screwtape offers insidious advice on how to corrupt the young man’s prayers for his difficult, sharp-tongued mother:

"Make sure that they are always very 'spiritual', that he is always concerned with the state of her soul and never with her rheumatism... In the first place, his attention will be kept on what he regards as her sins, by which... he can be induced to mean any of her actions which are inconvenient or irritating to himself... In time, you may get the cleavage so wide that no thought or feeling from his prayers for the imagined mother will ever flow over into his treatment of the real one."

At first glance, the instruction to keep prayers "very spiritual" sounds counter-intuitive. In real life, when a loved one is unwell, our first instinct is to care for their physical comfort and health. Screwtape’s tactic is to replace genuine empathy with self-righteous abstraction. By focusing on his mother’s "spiritual state," the son simply tallies up all the domestic habits that irritate him, dressing up personal resentment as high-minded moral concern. He ends up constructing an imaginary version of his mother, completely detached from the frail human being at the breakfast table.

Screwtape’s closing boast—that someone can move from pious prayer straight to domestic abuse or cruelty—is deeply unsettling. While Lewis uses this extreme caricature to expose the hypocrisy of detached religious zeal, it risks sounding jarringly stark.

In everyday human experience, the reality is usually far more tender. When faced with genuine illness, pain, or the fragility of life, our petty domestic annoyances tend to evaporate. True compassion does not live in abstract judgments about another person’s flaws; it is found in practical care, patience with physical frailties, and meeting real people exactly as they are.

Day 33: The Connoisseur's Trap: Snobbery, Entitlement, and Modern Gluttony (24th August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: Culinary Snobbery, The "In the Know" Mindset, and Emotional Dependency on Comforts
• Source Material: The Screwtape Letters

My Reflection

Reading through today’s letter from The Screwtape Letters, I initially got tangled in Screwtape's phrasing. When he remarks that the "patient is his mother’s son," he is connecting the young man’s temptations back to the fastidious, demanding mother profiled in previous days.

Screwtape notes that while women might fall for the fussy "All-I-want" domestic routine, men are easily seduced through intellectual vanity and culinary elitism:

"Males are best turned into gluttons with the help of their vanity. They ought to be made to think themselves very knowing about food, to pique themselves on having found the only restaurant in the town where steaks are really 'properly' cooked. What begins as vanity can then be gradually turned into habit. But, however you approach it, the great thing is to bring him into the state in which the denial of any one indulgence... 'puts him out', for then his charity, justice, and obedience are all at your mercy."

Lewis’s gendered division between female domestic fastidiousness and male "connoisseurship" feels very much like a product of 1940s British social norms. Yet the modern equivalent is immediately recognisable: the self-appointed culinary expert, the craft beer snob, or the foodie who insists on total exclusivity.

At first glance, this kind of moral scrutiny can feel suffocating. If even the smallest preference or modest indulgence can be twisted into a vice, it can seem as though the only safe route is total abstinence from life's simple pleasures.

Yet Lewis’s real target is not the enjoyment of a good meal or a favourite drink; it is our emotional fragility when denied it. The trap occurs when our small luxuries become non-negotiable entitlements. When missing our morning coffee, a favourite dish, or a quiet comfort ruins our temper and turns us sour toward others, our pleasures have quietly enslaved us.

The goal isn't grim self-denial, but holding our daily comforts with open hands—enjoying them with gratitude when present, and letting them go with good humour when they are not.

Day 32: The "All I Want" State of Mind: Chronic Dissatisfaction and Control (23rd August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: Perpetual Dissatisfaction, Control, and the Cost of Impossible Standards
• Source Material: The Screwtape Letters

My Reflection

Reading today’s continuing portrait from The Screwtape Letters, a very familiar figure came immediately to mind: my own mother. She lived in a perpetual state where nothing ever seemed quite good enough, leaving an indelible imprint on everyone around her.

Screwtape dissects this psychological trap with razor-sharp precision:

"The woman is in what may be called the 'All-I-want' state of mind. All she wants is a cup of tea properly made, or an egg properly boiled, or a slice of bread properly toasted. But she never finds any servant or any friend who can do these simple things 'properly' because her 'properly' conceals an insatiable demand for the exact, and almost impossible, palatal pleasures which she imagines she remembers from the past... Meanwhile, the daily disappointment produces daily ill temper: cooks give notice and friendships are cooled.

Lewis couches his example in the language of mid-century "domestic help," which feels distinctly anachronistic today. Yet the underlying character flaw is universal. To my mind, this has very little to do with traditional gluttony and everything to do with an obsessive, deep-seated need for control. Chronic dissatisfaction is almost always the hallmark of a deeply unhappy person using perfectionism as a weapon.

Living under the shadow of impossible expectations leaves lasting scars. When a parent operates on the principle that "99% is failure," it plants an internal critic that follows you into adulthood, whispering after every achievement: You could have done better. It erodes confidence and nurtures an enduring, quiet fear of falling short.

While Lewis’s tone here can feel biting, his psychological diagnosis is spot-on. When we cloak our unhappiness in demanding perfection, the people who suffer most are those closest to us. Recognising this pattern helps us dismantle our own internal critics—and reminds us that true maturity lies in learning how to be genuinely gracious, content, and kind.

Historical Footnote (23rd August)

• 1863: Albert James Lewis, father of C.S. Lewis, is born in Cork, Ireland.

• 1908: Flora Hamilton Lewis dies of cancer at age forty-six on Albert’s forty-fifth birthday, leaving young Warren (thirteen) and Jack (nine)—a tragic loss compounded by the deaths of Albert’s father and brother in the same year.

Day 31: The Demure Tyrant: Redefining Gluttony, Fastidiousness, and Consideration (22nd August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: Fastidious Demands, The "Gluttony of Delicacy", and Consideration for Others
• Source Material: The Screwtape Letters

My Reflection

Following yesterday's introduction to the "gluttony of delicacy," today’s reading from The Screwtape Letters paints a vivid character portrait of this idea in action. Looking at the progression of these daily readings, it does feel as though the anthology compiler is methodically working through the classic Seven Deadly Sins—having just transitioned from lust/chastity to gluttony.

In this passage, Screwtape describes an older woman who has become a quiet nightmare to everyone who serves her:

"She is a positive terror to hostesses and servants. She is always turning from what has been offered her to say with a demure little sigh and a smile 'Oh please, please... all I want is a cup of tea, weak but not too weak, and the teeniest weeniest bit of really crisp toast.' You see? Because what she wants is smaller and less costly than what has been set before her, she never recognises as gluttony her determination to get what she wants, however troublesome it may be to others."

My initial reaction to this was: Does this really matter in the grand scheme of things? When we think of gluttony, we picture excessive consumption, hoarding, and greed—not someone asking for a smaller portion or a specific cup of tea.

Yet, as someone who values fairness and empathy, I immediately recognize the real-world character Lewis is describing. We have all encountered people for whom nothing is ever quite right—those who mask their demanding, particular nature behind a demure smile or an excuse of "avoiding waste," while causing immense stress to overworked service staff and hospitality workers.

Whether this behaviour strictly fits the theological label of gluttony is debatable; to me, it looks far more like petty entitlement and a lack of empathy. But Lewis’s psychological insight remains razor-sharp: when our insistence on having things just our way trumps basic courtesy and consideration for the people around us, our modest preferences quietly turn into a subtle form of tyranny

Day 30: The Gluttony of Delicacy: When Pickiness Becomes Selfishness (21st August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: Fastidiousness, The "Gluttony of Delicacy", and Hidden Self-Centredness
• Source Material: The Screwtape Letters

My Reflection

Moving away from Mere Christianity into The Screwtape Letters provides an entirely different literary landscape. Reading isolated excerpts out of context can sometimes feel like being dropped into unfamiliar territory, especially with Lewis writing through the inverted, satirical voice of the senior devil, Screwtape.

In today’s letter, Screwtape scolds his junior tempter for dismissing gluttony as an outdated temptation:

"This has largely been effected by concentrating all our efforts on gluttony of Delicacy, not gluttony of Excess. Your patient's mother... is a good example. She would be astonished to learn that her whole life is enslaved to this kind of sensuality, which is quite concealed from her by the fact that the quantities involved are small. But what do quantities matter, provided we can use a human belly and palate to produce querulousness, impatience, un-charitableness, and self-concern?"

Lewis redefines a classic vice. We normally picture gluttony as sheer overeating or greed—the "Gluttony of Excess." But here, Lewis points out a far subtler trap: the "Gluttony of Delicacy."

This is the tyranny of the particular. It is the person who eats very little, yet insists that everything must be prepared just so—a specific temperature for tea, an exact crust on toast, an uncompromising culinary preference. Because the physical portion is modest, the person believes they are practicing self-control. In reality, their constant fastidiousness makes them irritable, critical, and demanding of everyone around them.

The problem Lewis identifies is not about food at all; it is about self-centredness. When our minor personal tastes and rigid domestic routines take precedence over patience, kindness, and consideration for others, a small preference quietly turns into an excuse for bad temper.

It is a clever, incisive observation. It reminds us that selfishness rarely arrives as an obvious, dramatic vice; more often, it hides inside our petty complaints and the everyday demands we make on those around us.

Day 29: Knowing the Adversary: Suppression, Psychology, and Unreachable Ideals (20th August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: Psychology vs Morality, Repression vs Suppression, and the Reality of Unreachable Standards
• Source Material: Mere Christianity

My Reflection

I was genuinely relieved to see the word "Final" in today’s heading. Reading through Lewis's sequence on chastity over the past few days has been an emotionally draining exercise—leaving me fatigued by a moral framework that often feels rigid, punitive, and impossible to live up to.

In this concluding excerpt from Mere Christianity, Lewis turns to popular psychology, drawing a sharp distinction between psychological repression (subconscious burying of trauma or instincts) and conscious suppression (the active decision to resist a desire):

"When an adolescent or an adult is engaged in resisting a conscious desire, he is not dealing with a repression nor is he in the least danger of creating a repression. On the contrary, those who are seriously attempting chastity are more conscious, and soon know a great deal more about their own sexuality than anyone else... Virtue—even attempted virtue—brings light; indulgence brings fog."  

Lewis uses vivid comparisons—Wellington studying Napoleon, Sherlock Holmes studying Moriarty, or a plumber diagnosing leaky pipes—to argue that self-denial brings clear-eyed self-knowledge rather than psychological harm.

While his technical distinction between repression and conscious restraint makes sense, the underlying expectation remains heavy. For those of us whose natural orientation falls outside mid-century Anglican definitions of marriage, Lewis’s theology offers only one path: total, lifelong suppression. It is precisely this insistence on rigid, unreachable standards that alienates so many people from faith communities. It explains why my own visits to church remain rare, quiet, and strictly anonymous.

Having lived without active sexual involvement for well over a decade—partly by circumstance, partly by choice—I find that my younger self would have felt this burden far more acutely than I do today. Yet the exhaustion of being told that who you are is fundamentally "unnatural" leaves an indelible mark.

Engaging honestly with Lewis does not mean blind veneration. These past four days have shown me that being an authentic reader means acknowledging an author's brilliance while firmly rejecting the theological boundaries that deny our humanity.

Day 28: Stiff Collars, Striving, and the Myth of Self-Sufficiency (19th August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: The Struggle for Virtue, Learning from Failure, and the Power of Trying Again
• Source Material: Mere Christianity

My Reflection

Reading through this week’s excerpts on chastity has been a challenging experience, forcing me to confront language and concepts that feel far removed from modern sensibilities. Yet in today’s passage from Mere Christianity, Lewis pivots to something universal: the human struggle of attempting something difficult that feels impossible before we begin.

Lewis illustrates this with grounded, physical examples—examinations, learning to skate, surviving wartime, and even wrestling with a stiff collar with cold fingers. That image brought back memories of my own school days, struggling with stiff shirt collars that rubbed my neck raw and trying to master tie knots that felt like impossible philosophical puzzles.

Lewis makes a poignant observation about human grit:

"Faced with an optional question in an examination paper, one considers whether one can do it or not: faced with a compulsory question, one must do the best one can... After each failure, ask forgiveness, pick yourself up, and try again. Very often what God first helps us towards is not the virtue itself but just this power of always trying again."

This echoes an old phrase my grandparents used often: "God loves a trier."

Where I find friction is in his assertion that "we cannot trust ourselves even in our best moments." Modern culture places enormous stock on self-reliance and self-confidence; admitting weakness or asking for help is often stigmatised. Lewis argues that reliance solely on our own willpower is fragile, and that failure is our greatest teacher—curing our illusions of self-sufficiency.

His closing remark—that the only fatal mistake is to "sit down content with anything less than perfection"—can easily sound like harsh, demanding perfectionism. Yet at its heart, it is an invitation not to give up. The true failure lies not in falling short, but in resigning ourselves to apathy and refusing to get back up.

Day 27: Warped Natures and the Commercialisation of Desire (18th August)

     

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: Resisting Consumerist Lust, "Warped Natures," and Cultural Propaganda
• Source Material: Mere Christianity

My Reflection

Today’s reading continues Lewis’s exploration of chastity, and once again, I find myself grappling with his vocabulary. The very word chastity carries heavy historical baggage for me—evoking notions of patriarchal control and moral policing rather than genuine, loving care.

Lewis writes frankly about the difficulty of self-restraint, blaming our internal impulses and modern cultural conditioning:

"Our warped natures, the devils who tempt us, and all the contemporary propaganda for lust, combine to make us feel that the desires we are resisting are so 'natural', so 'healthy', and so reasonable, that it is almost perverse and abnormal to resist them... The lie consists in the suggestion that any sexual act to which you are tempted at the moment is also healthy and normal."

Lewis’s phrase "our warped natures" is deeply jarring. The traditional theological premise that human beings are innately corrupted from birth and burdened with guilt is, to my mind, one of the most oppressive aspects of religious dogma. When I think of beloved people who have shaped my life—such as my late stepmother—the suggestion that they, or any of us, are fundamentally "warped" beings in need of constant self-chastisement is something I reject.

Where Lewis remains undeniably perceptive, however, is in his critique of commercialized culture. Even in the 1940s, he recognized that society weaponizes the naturalness of desire to sell indulgence. Today, the old marketing adage "sex sells" dominates every screen and billboard. Media constantly equates instant gratification with vitality, freedom, and emotional health, while ignoring the real-world wreckage of unbridled impulsiveness—deceit, broken trust, and emotional estrangement.

While I disagree with the theological view of human nature as inherently defective, Lewis makes a compelling secular point: unchecked indulgence is not synonymous with freedom, and true emotional well-being requires discernment, honesty, and self-respect.

Day 26: Surprised by Lewis: Confronting Chastity and Rigid Boundaries (17th August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: Chastity, "Bent Appetites," and the Scope of Christian Morality
• Source Material: Mere Christianity

My Reflection

I have often admired C.S. Lewis for his sharp logic, clarity, and deep empathy. However, today’s excerpt from Mere Christianity brought me up short. For the first time in this reading journey, I found myself in profound disagreement with him.

Lewis opens with an uncompromising definition of Christian chastity:

"The Christian rule is, 'Either marriage, with complete faithfulness to your partner, or else total abstinence.' Now this is so difficult and so contrary to our instincts, that obviously either Christianity is wrong or our sexual instinct, as it now is, has gone wrong. One or the other."  

To support this, Lewis uses his famous analogy of the striptease versus a plate of food, arguing that sexual instinct has expanded into an appetite far beyond its primary biological purpose.

While I fully agree that mutual fidelity and trust form the bedrock of any loving relationship—and having learned in my youth the pain that betrayal can cause—Lewis’s absolute binary feels restrictive and blind to reality.

Writing in the 1940s, Lewis operated within a rigid framework that ignored those who chose not to marry, those unsuited to it, and crucially, those who were legally and culturally forbidden from marrying at the time. To suggest that anyone outside a traditional heterosexual marriage must resign themselves to lifelong abstinence reduces complex human love and companionship to a cold theological rule.

As a gay man, I found myself wondering what Lewis would have said had we met. Would he have prescribed a life of silent celibacy and constant repentance?

To parody one of his most famous titles, today I was genuinely "Surprised by Lewis." Yet perhaps the real value of engaging with classic literature is not in agreeing with every sentence, but in bringing our honest, authentic selves to the conversation.

Day 25: The Diabolical Self and the Modern Mob (16th August)

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: The Hierarchy of Sin, Self-Righteousness, and the "Diabolical Self"
• Source Material: Mere Christianity

My Reflection

In today’s excerpt from Mere Christianity, Lewis challenges common assumptions about moral failure. He firmly rejects the idea that physical sins are the worst offenses, asserting that purely spiritual vices are far more destructive:

"...The sins of the flesh are bad, but they are the least bad of all sins. All the worst pleasures are purely spiritual: the pleasure of putting other people in the wrong, of bossing and patronising and spoiling sport, and back-biting, the pleasures of power, of hatred... That is why a cold, self-righteous prig who goes regularly to church may be far nearer to hell than a prostitute."  

Lewis divides our lower impulses into the Animal Self (instincts, appetites) and the Diabolical Self (cruelty, pride, self-righteous control). The Diabolical Self thrives on moral superiority.

While striving to live compassionately and do good is vital, placing every single thought under a harsh internal microscope can quickly lead to exhaustion, self-doubt, and even self-loathing. Constant scrupulosity is mentally and physically draining.

Yet, when we look outward, the "Diabolical Self" is everywhere in modern culture—especially on social media. We recently saw the tragic news of a university professor who died amid public scrutiny surrounding his academic credibility, with the relentless pile-on of social media playing a devastating role. Online platforms have created a breeding ground where people indulge in the pleasure of putting others in the wrong, destroying reputations under the banner of righteousness.

One wonders what Lewis would have made of digital mobs. It brings to mind the timeless biblical warning: "Judge not, lest ye be judged."

(Note: The footnote records that in 1945, Lewis published 'That Hideous Strength'—a story exploring how intellectual arrogance, bureaucratic power, and social coercion subtly corrupt the soul.)

Day 24: The Scandal of Love and the End of Predation (15th August)

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: Why Love, Unity, and Cooperation Baffle the Cynical Mind
• Source Material: The Screwtape Letters

My Reflection

Reading today’s entry brought yet another encounter with the upside-down logic of The Screwtape Letters. At first glance, Screwtape’s complaints about theology and biology can feel dense and alien. However, beneath his demonic frustration lies what is perhaps Lewis’s ultimate defence of love.

Screwtape is exasperated by the entire architecture of creation. To Hell, the only natural rule of existence is ruthless predation: the strong ought to dominate and consume the weak. Screwtape complains that God has fundamentally rigged reality to make room for love:

"...Sex might have been, from our point of view, quite innocent. It might have been merely one more mode in which a stronger self preyed upon a weaker—as it is, indeed, among the spiders where the bride concludes her nuptials by eating the groom. But in the humans the Enemy has gratuitously associated affection between the parties with sexual desire... The whole thing, in fact, turns out to be simply one more device for dragging in Love."

To a mind built purely on selfishness, love is an offensive contradiction: how can two distinct, separate beings find their greatest joy in the good of the other?

Screwtape wishes human relationships were purely transactional and predatory—a contest of power. Instead, physical intimacy and companionship are infused with an instinct toward tenderness, vulnerability, and mutual care.

Even outside traditional theological frameworks, this message speaks volumes to our modern world. In a culture that often reduces human relationships to quick transactions, casual swiping, or self-serving dynamics, Lewis reminds us of something higher. Real connection demands that we lay down our defences and abandon the urge to dominate. It insists that we find our own flourishing by lifting up someone else.

(Note: The biographical note mentions that in 1932, Lewis began writing 'The Pilgrim's Regress'—an allegorical journey exploring his own search for meaning, moving away from cynical philosophies toward spiritual reality.)

Day 23: Blind Infatuation and the Red Flags of Love (14th August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: Infatuation as an Excuse for Poor Judgment
• Source Material: The Screwtape Letters

My Reflection

When I reached the bottom of today's reading and saw that it was yet another excerpt from The Screwtape Letters, I will admit my heart sank slightly! However, I am slowly growing accustomed to Lewis’s reverse logic—remembering that when Screwtape speaks of the "Enemy", he means God, and that Hell's advice is always upside-down.

In today's letter, Screwtape outlines two major traps Hell lays regarding relationships:

First, Hell encourages humans to view steady, sensible motives for commitment—such as loyalty, mutual help, and quiet companionship—as something "low and cynical" compared to a dramatic, all-consuming storm of emotion. People are persuaded that unless they feel sweeping, cinematic passion, a relationship has no merit.

Second, Screwtape boasts that once any sexual infatuation is labelled as "true love," humans use it to excuse reckless decisions:

"...Any sexual infatuation whatever, so long as it intends marriage, will be regarded as 'love', and 'love' will be held to excuse a man from all the guilt, and to protect him from all the consequences, of marrying a heathen, a fool, or a wanton."

Lewis’s mid-20th-century phrasing can feel antiquated to modern ears, but the core psychological observation is timeless. When infatuation takes over, people routinely ignore glaring warning signs—choosing partners who are fundamentally incompatible, reckless, or untrustworthy—under the naive assumption that "being in love" will magically protect them from real-world consequences.

In my younger years, I certainly made the mistake of equating physical attraction and instant chemistry with a deep, loving relationship. It takes time and lived experience to realize that intense emotional highs can easily blind us.

If Lewis were writing today, he might simply say that culture encourages us to chase chemical sparks and excitement while overlooking the real essentials of a lasting bond: emotional maturity, shared values, trust, and mutual respect.

 

Day 22: Romance Novels and Rose-Tinted Spectacles (13th August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: Unrealistic Expectations, Pop Culture Ideals, and Choice in Love
• Source Material: Mere Christianity

My Reflection

In today’s entry, Lewis takes aim at the subtle, harmful expectations we absorb from fiction, plays, and popular music.

He points out that novels often convince people that if they have married the "right" person, they will remain in a state of romantic thrill forever. Consequently, when the initial excitement naturally fades, people assume they made a mistake and seek a change—not realizing that the new thrill will eventually fade just like the old one. He reminds us that thrills naturally belong to the beginning of things:

"...The sort of thrill a boy has at the first idea of flying will not go on when he has joined the R.A.F. and is really learning to fly. The thrill you feel on first seeing some delightful place dies away when you really go to live there."

He also challenges the notion that "falling in love" is an irresistible force that simply happens to us like the measles. He suggests that, as adults, we actually have a degree of choice in whether we allow a mild admiration for someone clever or attractive to turn into a runaway romantic obsession. If our minds are filled with sentimental media, we carve mental ruts that guide all our feelings into those dramatic channels.

Reading this hit a deeply familiar chord. As an only child, I spent a lot of time on my own, living vividly in my imagination. As I grew up and moved from children’s literature to adult books, I absorbed an idealized, highly unrealistic vision of love. I developed a conviction that there was a "tall, dark stranger" out there whom I simply had to track down, and that finding them would be the ultimate solution to my happiness.

Looking back, that mindset led to unsuccessful relationships. I was expecting a partner to magically heal my internal battles and provide complete immunity from pain. While fiction isn't inherently bad, perhaps these romance tropes ought to carry a health warning—much like tobacco or alcohol—given how easily they can set young minds up for disappointment and failure.

Now, later in life, I still enjoy romantic stories, but I have the benefit of viewing them without those rose-tinted spectacles.

(Note: A biographical footnote today mentions that in 1929, Lewis returned to Belfast to nurse his father during his final illness. It serves as a subtle reminder of what real, unglamorous love looks like: stepping away from dramatic feelings to perform the quiet, dutiful work of caring for someone in need.)

 

Day 21: The Spark and the Engine (12th August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: The Shift From Emotional Thrill to Quiet, Enduring Unity
• Source Material: Mere Christianity

My Reflection

In today’s excerpt from Mere Christianity, Lewis dismantled the classic fairytale cliché, "and they lived happily ever after."

He points out that if we take that phrase to mean feeling the exact same high-pitch romantic thrill for fifty years straight, it is not only impossible, but deeply undesirable. Who could survive that level of constant emotional intensity? What would become of your sleep, your appetite, your friendships, or your daily work?

Instead, Lewis draws a clear line between 'being in love' (the initial emotional storm) and 'loving' (a lasting, deliberate unity):

"...Ceasing to be 'in love' need not mean ceasing to love... 'Being in love' first moved them to promise fidelity: this quieter love enables them to keep the promise. It is on this love that the engine of marriage is run: being in love was the explosion that started it.

I wholeheartedly agree with his distinction. Moving from the initial rush of falling in love to a quieter, deeper state of loving someone is a far superior place to land.

What has surprised me in my own life is how this quiet love continues to grow and strengthen over time. It is forged through shared history, joint experiences, and genuinely wanting the absolute best for the other person.

Of course, day-to-day living naturally brings its share of "niggles" and small annoyances. Disagreements will happen, but they are simply part of the contract of sharing a life with another human being. Expecting a relationship to be entirely free of friction is completely unrealistic—and certainly no reason to throw away a deep, enduring connection.

 

Day 20: Falling in Love vs. Growing in Love (11th August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: The Transience of Emotion and the Growth of True Love
• Source Material: Mere Christianity

My Reflection

Today’s passage was a welcome relief—much easier to relate to and deeply echoing my own life experience.

Lewis acknowledges that "being in love" is a glorious, noble state. It lifts us out of cold self-centredness, opens our eyes to beauty, and makes us more courageous and generous. Yet, he cautions against making any single feeling the ultimate ruler of our lives:

"...Being in love is a good thing, but it is not the best thing. There are many things below it, but there are also things above it. You cannot make it the basis of a whole life. It is a noble feeling, but it is still a feeling. Now no feeling can be relied on to last in its full intensity, or even to last at all."

I whole-heartedly agree with his observation that initial romantic passion is fleeting. In my youth, I mistakenly assumed that the intense rush of sexual attraction and initial passion was the primary backbone of a relationship. When that thrill inevitably began to fade, I was left with the mistaken belief that the relationship itself was over.

However, over the course of 25 years, my feelings toward someone I was once "in love" with underwent a profound transformation. Today, I can say I genuinely love them in a way that is vastly deeper, richer, and stronger than those early days.

As the initial, fiery passion diminished, a quiet, enduring love grew in its place—one built on deep companionship, trust, mutual reliance, and shared history. What replaces the initial spark is not a loss, but an upgrade. Passion is a wonderful spark to light the fire, but companionship and trust are the logs that keep the hearth warm for decades.

 

Day 19: Promises, Duty, and the Weight of Vows (10th August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: The Nature of Promises and Commitment Beyond Feeling
• Source Material: Mere Christianity

My Reflection

In today’s excerpt from Mere Christianity, Lewis reflects on the purpose of wedding vows. He argues that if the emotional state of "being in love" were the only valid reason to stay married, then making a formal promise or contract would be entirely pointless.

Lewis points out that when people fall in love, they naturally want to make promises of eternal constancy—it is the language of love songs the world over. However, he emphasizes a vital distinction: a genuine promise can only ever be about actions, not feelings:

"...A promise must be about things that I can do, about actions: no one can promise to go on feeling in a certain way. He might as well promise never to have a headache or always to feel hungry."

In Lewis’s view, the promise commits us to remaining faithful and standing by someone even when the initial, passionate feeling inevitably cools.

I completely understand his logic that marriage is meant to be far more than just a passing feeling. Yet, I find myself wrestling with the heavy real-world consequences of this view. While I deeply respect the sanctity of vows, rigid adherence to this principle can mean that countless couples across the land remain trapped in empty, loveless marriages—enduring years of profound unhappiness simply out of a grim sense of duty. Watching one’s life slip away in a joyless home seems extraordinarily unfair and deeply sad.

At the same time, I certainly do not discount the immense pain brought about by divorce. My own parents divorced not long after I was born. Because of the acrimonious nature of their separation, I never knew my father as a conscious memory—I must have been only 12 to 18 months old when he left my life. I know the quiet, lifelong shadow that a broken home can cast.

People sometimes use the phrase "piecrust promises"—meaning vows that are easily made and easily broken. Balancing the gravity of keeping our word against the human tragedy of endless, loveless suffering is one of the hardest dilemmas of the human condition.

 

Day 18: One Flesh and the Illusion of Feeling (9th August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: The Distinctions Between Sexual Union, Commitment, and "Being in Love"
• Source Material: The Screwtape Letters

My Reflection

Today’s passage brings us yet another complex excerpt from The Screwtape Letters. I will freely admit that Screwtape’s inverted logic is something I often struggle to comprehend or find immediate comfort in. Furthermore, as a gay man who has never married, exploring Lewis’s rigid focus on traditional heterosexual marriage feels twice as removed from my own lived experience. Looking at these concepts from the outside can leave one feeling like a spectator to an unfamiliar world.

Yet, stripping away the demonic satire and mid-century framing reveals a fascinating psychological insight into human nature.

Screwtape explains how Hell deceives humanity by blurring the lines between a deep, binding human connection and the fleeting emotional state of "being in love." He points out that in theology, physical intimacy creates a profound, spiritual link—a "one flesh" reality—that establishes a permanent bond between two people, requiring mutual goodwill and responsibility.

The "joke" that Screwtape boasts about is how Hell tricks humans into believing that the emotional rush—the blend of excitement, desire, and romance—is the only thing that makes a union valid or holy. It brings to mind a striking line from Rufus Wainwright's song Poses:

"Life is a game and true love is a trophy..."

That lyric captures the precise illusion Screwtape describes: treating love as a prize to be won, a dramatic sensation to show off, rather than a living, quiet commitment. Screwtape draws a parallel to spiritual life: just as a sudden wave of religious emotion might accompany a conversion, that emotional feeling is not the conversion itself.

When we mistake temporary emotional excitement for the true foundation of a relationship, we set ourselves up for disappointment. When the initial thrill naturally cools, people are tempted to believe the relationship is broken or meaningless, ignoring the deeper values of loyalty, shared journey, and quiet companionship.

Even from where I sit—outside the traditional institution of marriage—the core principle remains universally true. Whether in marriage, deep friendships, or community, human connections cannot rely solely on how we feel on any given afternoon. Lasting bonds are sustained by goodwill, fidelity, and choices that outlast the passing weather of our emotions.

 

Day 17: Hell's Parody and the Competition of Self (8th August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: The Distortions of "Being in Love" and the Philosophy of Hell
• Source Material: The Screwtape Letters

My Reflection

Today's reading presents one of the most brilliant, mind-bending passages in The Screwtape Letters. Because the book is written from the perspective of Screwtape—a senior demon in Hell—everything is completely inverted. When Screwtape speaks, down is up, evil is good, and love is treated as an impossible absurdity.

In today's excerpt, Screwtape brags about how Hell twists human relationships. He explains how they have tricked humanity into believing that the temporary, emotional rush of "being in love" is the only respectable ground for marriage. By persuading culture that a marriage must keep that initial firework display going forever—and that a marriage without it is no longer binding—Hell sets human relationships up for inevitable failure the moment the initial spark naturally settles into quiet companionship.

Screwtape then reveals the deeper philosophy behind this trap: Hell operates on the belief that the entire universe is a brutal, zero-sum game:

"...The whole philosophy of Hell rests on recognition of the axiom that one thing is not another thing, and, specially, that one self is not another self. My good is my good and your good is yours. What one gains another loses... 'To be' means 'to be in competition'."

To Screwtape, there is no such thing as mutual giving or shared joy. Life is purely about domination. In the physical world, beasts survive by eating other beasts; in the spiritual world, demons thrive by "sucking the will and freedom out of a weaker self into a stronger."

Reading this made me think of the old saying that in relationships, "there is always one who loves and one who is loved." When a relationship becomes lopsided—where one person does all the giving while the other simply consumes their partner's devotion—it mirror's Screwtape's predatory dynamic. Instead of two equal selves coming together to flourish, it becomes a quiet struggle where one self absorbs the other.

Lewis exposes how subtle Hell's tactics can be. Temptation rarely arrives as cartoonish evil; instead, it takes a wonderful, natural human experience—falling in love—and convinces us to demand something from it that it was never meant to deliver, turning mutual love into a cold competition.

 

Day 16: Holy Intentions and Outside Looking In (7th August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: Marriage, Christian Morality, and Inclusion
• Source Material: Mere Christianity

My Reflection

In today’s passage, Lewis turns his attention to the Christian concept of marriage—specifically between a man and a woman—and what it means for two people to become "one flesh." He uses the vivid imagery of a lock and key, or a violin and bow, to illustrate how two distinct entities are designed to combine into a unified whole. He emphasizes that this union is intended to encompass all aspects of life, not merely the physical.

However, Lewis goes on to describe sex outside of marriage as a "monstrosity." Viewed from the perspective of a reader in 2026, this language feels extraordinarily harsh. History shows us that traditional marriage has not always favoured women and has frequently been used to control their economic status and independence. Marriages do not always work out, and the idea that anyone should remain trapped and suffering in an unhealthy union feels, to my mind, profoundly un-Christian.

Yet, even where I disagree with his conclusions, I admire his gift for illustration. He likens the attempt to isolate physical pleasure from total commitment to:

"...trying to taste something without swallowing and digesting, by chewing things and spitting them out again."

It is a striking, tactile metaphor, even if the surrounding theology feels rigid.

As a Christian—though some might label me "lukewarm"—I have often felt alienated by the church’s historical attitudes toward gay people. While there have been genuine efforts toward greater inclusivity, traditional elements of the church still struggle to fully welcome same-sex attracted individuals. The legal recognition of equal marriage in the UK has provided vital protections and dignity, something I whole-heartedly support.

Having never married, I find myself in my sixties as what was once termed a "confirmed bachelor." While it remains a quiet regret of mine, life doesn't always turn out the way we envision, and I have found peace with where I am.

While the vast majority of Lewis’s work brings me profound comfort, wisdom, and peace, passages like today’s serve as a stark, melancholic reminder: there are moments in orthodox doctrine where I feel as though I will always be on the outside looking in.

 

Day 15: Cherishing Our Unhappiness (6th August)

 

The Reading Today

• Daily Theme: Guilt in Recovery and the Ego of Grief
• Source Material: A Grief Observed

My Reflection

In today’s excerpt, Lewis continues to untangle the complicated emotions following the loss of his wife, Joy ("H."). He notices a subtle shift in his state of mind:

"...In some sense I 'feel better', and with that comes at once a sort of shame..."

He muses that a certain preoccupation with prolonging his unhappiness might actually be grounded in a form of vanity. He recognizes in himself a desire to prove that his love—and therefore his pain—is on a grand, sweeping scale; that he and Joy were "tragic heroes" rather than "just ordinary privates in the huge army of the bereaved." Yet, in his quieter moments of honesty, he admits that nobody truly wants raw grief to be endlessly prolonged.

Reading this brought back strong memories of my own grieving process. As time passes and you move further away from the initial loss, the person you loved begins to feel like something of a ghost. I remember forcing myself to try and recall small details—struggling to hold onto the exact cadence of their voice or the sound of their laughter.

As the initial shock began to diminish, I felt an unexpected wave of guilt because I was no longer crying all the time. Lewis previously described his grief as a kind of physical fear, and that remains the only word that accurately describes my own initial reaction. But as that acute fear subsides, carrying on with daily life can feel like a subtle act of betrayal.

The initial, excruciating state of shock keeps the person intensely fresh in your mind, but holding onto that state makes it impossible to continue living your own life. I believe much of this conflict is grounded in underlying anger at the loss itself.

Some days, I go hours without thinking about the people I've lost; on other days, they never leave my mind for a single moment. It makes me wonder: Is this what people truly mean when they speak of being "haunted"?