In the Trinity Term of 1929 I gave in, and admitted that God was God, and knelt and prayed: perhaps, that night, the most dejected and reluctant convert in all England.
-CS Lewis, Surprised by Joy, 266
What makes someone convert from one point of view to another? In a religious context, what leads someone from no belief to belief in the divine, or from one religion to another? Some of the most personal and powerful stories in history are about conversion, but in our own lives, we often think that we could never change our opinions, behaviors, or beliefs.
What CS Lewis recounted in Surprised by Joy—that he was “the most dejected and reluctant convert in all of England”—is, to my mind, one of the marks of a real convert. It shows that Lewis was converting because he saw the truth of the matter; he was converting not because Christianity was some easy or comfortable life, but because Lewis realized the demands of truth. Once you know a thing to be true, you need to pursue it to be fully happy, to be complete. (In a nonreligious context, being presented with the truth or logic of an argument can be the moment at which you feel the need to accept a new perspective, time for a change of mind.)
That does not mean that it is easy. Thomas Aquinas defined truth as “the conformity of the intellect and thing.” Summa Theologiae I, q. 16, a. 2. Even when you understand something, or when the stakes are low (like changing your mind based on the Pepsi challenge), it does not mean that you are immediately able or willing to pursue a new course. Conforming your intellect to the truth of something is hard. And there are many things that can prevent us from moving forward. For Saint Augustine, he understood that he had to rid himself of disordered passions, but was reluctant because he had become accustomed to a comfortable and pleasurable life: “But I wretched, most wretched, in the very commencement of my early youth, had begged chastity of Thee, and said, ‘Give me chastity and continency, only not yet.’ For I feared lest Thou shouldest hear me soon, and soon cure me of the disease of concupiscence, which I wished to have satisfied, rather than extinguished.” Confessions, VII.
Augustine feared change. Even though he knew he had to change, and even though he desired a new life, he did not want to experience the suffering that was required. We often do not change because of fear—fear of the unknown, fear of suffering, fear of others’ perceptions of us, or simply fear of having to change our routine. We can be paralyzed by fear to the point that we are not open to new ideas and challenges. Fear has held people back from starting a business, entering into a new relationship, asking for a raise or promotion, or any number of other things.
Fears about conversion come from many sources. Augustine’s was an internal fear of losing something he loved and having to enter into a new existence, even though he knew his current life was not ordered to the truth. Fear or hesitation could be based on something external as well. For John Henry Newman, the most famous religious convert in 19th century England, he confronted the loss of all of his friends, colleagues, and prominence in the Anglican church. Augustine and Newman both had a lot to lose by converting, but they made a change because the truth was overwhelming for them.
Augustine’s Confessions is essential reading. Likewise, Newman’s Apologia pro vita sua is a deep analysis of someone’s personal conversion. These are only two examples of religious converts. There are myriad examples, and each one is unique. As GK Chesterton noted, “The Church is a house with a hundred gates; and no two men enter at exactly the same angle.” GK Chesterton, The Catholic Church and Conversion, 16. We encounter the truth at different times and in different ways, which is why conversion stories are so compelling. There is something in everyone’s experience that speaks to the truth of the human condition and the breadth of truth.
A particularly modern example of a conversion story is Tyler Blanski’s An Immovable Feast: How I Gave Up Spirituality for a Life of Religious Abundance. Blanski went from being a “spiritual, but not religious” Baptist, to the Anglican Church (and seminary), to becoming a Catholic. It’s a familiar path. GK Chesterton, born in 1874, went from a Unitarian upbringing, to the Church of England (1901), to the Catholic Church in 1922 when he was 48 years old. Chesterton kept seeking the truth, and followed wherever the truth led him.
That was Blanski’s plan as well. As one mentor told him, the truth hurts, but it never harms. (213–14) So Blanski not only sought to find the truth, but to follow it: “I prayed that God would help me to be open to the truth, no matter the cost.” (246) Living a life of undefined “spirituality” was unfulfilling. “In the popular phrase ‘I’m spiritual but not religious,’ the word ‘spiritual’ was not true spirituality. My spirituality was an easy assurance.” (90) Blanski was comfortable. It was only when he was willing to forgo his comfort—to do the “hard work,” as he calls it—was he able to open himself to new ideas and possibilities.
Blanski’s search—he was always searching—began with an emotional conversion. Realizing that “spirituality” untethered to anything else was not fulfilling, he changed his mind about what would fulfill him. That sent him off on an intellectual journey, reading all sorts of books and taking in information from many sources. Eventually, with the help of his wife and their new marriage, he had a conversion of the heart. That last conversion made it possible for him to accept the truth he had found, and to embrace it fully with all its demands and consequences. “The fact of the matter was that I had wanted Christianity, but I had wanted Christianity on my terms.” (262) How many of us have expressed something similar when we are unwilling to change? We want to start a business, but we want it to be immediately successful and require only a 4-hour workweek. We want to pursue a relationship, but only if the other person remains the same and if we don’t have to change at all. The list goes on.
The Greek word for conversion is μετάνοια. It is a spiritual conversion or a change of heart and mind. The Latin roots of “conversion” signify a turning around, a change of movement from one direction to another. Conversion requires, quite literally sometimes, a physical change of course—you used to reach in the cookie jar and now you no longer reach in the cookie jar. We choose to follow a path we were not on before because our hearts and minds have been changed. Sometimes conversion happens in an instant. More often, it happens over a lifetime. And if we are open to new ideas and looking for the truth, there will be plenty of opportunities, both religious and otherwise, to embrace new ideas.
We’re in a political season—have you thought of changing from one party to another? Or voting when you have not in the past?
Did your New Year’s resolution(s) fail because you were afraid or unable to see yourself as a person who does X every day or as someone who could give up Y?
Is there some fear holding you back from making a change?
Are you pursuing the truth or are you complacent with the status quo?
Today is Good Friday for believing Christians worldwide. In the narration of the Passion in Mark’s Gospel, we hear about the instant conversion of a Roman centurion once he recognized the truth: “And when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that he thus breathed his last, he said, ‘Truly, this man was the Son of God!’” For those who are looking and seeking the truth, conversions take place every day. Let’s keep our eyes open.
Remember to turn every page. Enjoy your weekend. Please let me know whether you need anything.
Best,
Aaron