Christianity and Creative Writing

A Lesson from C. S. Lewis

Once upon a dreary era, when the world of…specialisation had nearly make obsolete all universal geniuses, romantic poets, Platonic idealists, rhetorical craftsmen, and even orthodox Christians, there appeared a man (almost as if from another world, one of the worlds of his own fiction: was he a man or something more like an elf or Angel?) who was all of these things as amateur, as well as probably the world’s foremost authority in his professional province, Medieval and Renaissance English literature. Before his death in 1963 he found time to produce some first-quality works of literary history, literary criticism, theology, philosophy, autobiography, biblical studies, historical philology, fantasy, science fiction, letters, poems, sermons, formal and informal essays, a historical novel, a spiritual diary, religious allegory, short stories, and children’s novels. Clive Staples Lewis was not a man: he was a world. (1)
(Peter Kreeft on C. S. Lewis)

This past year I have developed an interest in writing. I would love to be a wordsmith. Crafting writing that is elegant, yet clear. Beautiful, but economic. Not simply ‘artsy’. However, one of my fears is that the attempt to write plainly — and in theology, plainly about the truth — can be obscured by a desire to write with freshness and originality. In this post, I will briefly turn to C. S. Lewis, and his writing style and intent, in order to suggest that there is no reason to fear.

Are Objectivity and Creativity Compatible?

In the pursuit of putting words to the wonder of God’s revelation of Himself — that is, in pursuit of theology — it is necessary be exacting in those words which are used and those that are not. When speaking about God there seems to be words that are appropriate and words that are inappropriate. I desire to write and speak with appropriateness and fittingness before the Almighty. I do not want to be irreverent or even blasphemous due to an employment of sloppy words.

Yet at the same time, I hope that my writing about God will not be terse or drab, precise to such a degree that it became prickly (if that were possible). In anticipation of writing for an audience, for a reader and not only myself, I desire my writing to be enjoyable, smooth, and pleasing to the ears.

I wonder, are these two ways of writing — with precision and pleasantness — compatible? Can writing that is accurate also be enjoyable? Sometimes it seems that it cannot. I was once told by a friend studying sciences at Oxford University that his writing was too flowery and ornate, which gave the impression that in order to be objective (for that is, popularly assumed, the nature of science) one could not express ideas with much creative embellishment.

Is this so? Does this have to be the case? Instead of giving space to a somewhat abstract treatment of this question, I turn to C. S. Lewis and the example he provides. He teaches us that the answer is a definitive, “No”. He shows us that that literary creativity can serve and support an expression of objectivity.

C. S. Lewis — the Master Likener

Over this Christmas break I have spent some time reading C. S. Lewis. This is a man who, from the 20th century to the present, has been hugely influential for his Christian apologetics and popular children’s books. At the same time, Lewis was a world-leading scholar in the field of Medieval and Renaissance English Literature. For much of his life he taught at Oxford, and later in Cambridge.

C. S. Lewis had an incredible gift for creatively communicating his ideas. Outstanding alone for his prolific writing, he also employed a host of genres ranging from the mythic to the academic. I find his versatility truly astonishing. Take note of the range of genres that Lewis’ writing akes, as observed above by Kreeft — “literary history, literary criticism, theology, philosophy, autobiography, biblical studies, historical philology, fantasy, science fiction, letters, poems, sermons, formal and informal essays, a historical novel, a spiritual diary, religious allegory, short stories, and children’s novels.”

John Piper describes Lewis as “the Master Likener” (2). By this, Piper means Lewis’ gift of “likening some aspect of reality to what it is not [to] reveal more of what it is”. Whilst this may sound confusing in the abstract the idea is actually simple — the power of images to illuminate reality. We all do this to a degree in our own speech or writing. We all, although some more than others, use metaphor, analogy, illustration, simile, poetry, story and myth in order to describe and explain the world around us.

Although C. S. Lewis’ dexterity of expression, his ability to adopt varying styles, is pleasurable to the reader, we must not stop here. Lewis aims for his likening to be delightful, but also illuminating. The purpose of his likening is its ability to reveal truth with poignancy. To only revel in his enjoyable turn of phrase is to miss the point, for his likening was at the service of explicating truth.

The Screwtape Letters is an example of this. Here, Lewis imagines a series of correspondence between two related ‘devils’, Screwtape and his nephew Wormwood. This is a world in which each person has a devil responsible over them, seeking their downfall and trying to lead them away from “The Enemy” (God). Screwtape attempts to coach his nephew in the art of deception so that he can best mislead his human subject. Screwtape is highly original and often humorous, whilst also gently illuming reality by making comments upon the human condition. The key word here is whilst — this is to what C. S. Lewis aims; not humour or originality for its own sake, but for the sake of illuming reality. This is what is meant by “likening”.

Theology Through Illuminating Creativity

The example of C. S. Lewis suggests that writing can have both objective intent and literary sophistry, communicating truth whilst also being creative. The key to the lesson that Lewis offers is in ensuring that such creativity is at the service of theology. Creativity and originality ought to be subordinate to the higher task of illuminating reality. When this is the case, there is no need to fear.

Now, let’s start writing.