I finished C.S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity
after supper this evening. It’s a deceptively thin book for its substance — or put another way, much more has been written on the subject of Christian faith, and much less said, many times over. (I’m reading Dinesh D’Souza’s What’s So Great About Christianity
right now, as well — much thicker, full of footnotes and sources and extremely interesting factoids … and not nearly as convincing as an apologetic work.)
Lewis’s little book is plain-spoken, well-argued, even-handed, and gentle. It is decidedly pro-Christianity, of course — that’s the point, after all. It gives great insight into why we believe what we believe, bolsters the believer’s faith, and may even send a doubter or two into a tailspin. Will it create new converts? Win fresh hearts and minds? Repel the atheist horde? Perhaps not. But I folded over many a page corner in my battered paperback copy.* I loved it.
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* A habit I abandoned years and years ago, and only resurrected for this particular volume.