God, Divine Goodness, and Conversion

"We want, in fact,a not so much a Father in Heaven as a grandfather in heaven--a senile benevolence who, as they say, 'liked to see young people enjoying themselves', and whose plan for the universe was simply that it might be truly said at the end of each day, 'a good time was had by all'" (31).

-C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain

On Sunday night, I was very tired and a little down in the dumps. Not depressed at all, but just feeling like I could burst into tears at any moment. I decided that what I needed was some quiet time with Jesus, so I went with my dad to his adoration hour at the Perpetual Adoration chapel in the next town. I brought with me Lewis' The Problem of Pain, not because of my aforementioned mood, but because some dear family friends gave it to me for graduation and I wanted to read it. And I'd already started it and was ready to read some more; it's one of those books that begs for me to respond to it through underlining, notes in the margins, and lots of thought. Plus it seemed like a good book to meditate on.

The chapter I read on Sunday was titled "Divine Goodness"-the quote above comes from that chapter. That particular quote stood out to me because, as Lewis says, I don't think many people would quite format their theological views like that, but it seems to be a pretty prevalent idea nowadays. And to resist that idea of God is difficult at times: why would He not want us to be happy doing whatever? Lewis answers that question a few pages later. He talks about kindness and love, saying that while there is kindness in love, they are not interchangeable terms. Lewis then says that

It is for people whom we care nothing about that we demand happiness on any terms: with our friends, our lovers, our children, we are exacting and would rather see them suffer much than be happy in contemptible and estranging modes. If God is Love, He is, by definition, something more than mere kindness. And it appears from all the records, that though He has often rebuked us and condemned us, He has never regarded us with contempt. He has paid us the intolerable compliment of loving us, in the deepest, most tragic, most inexorable sense. (33).

Why do I bring this up? Well, it's because I've been grappling with something for some time. You see, I love conversion stories. I love reading them and hearing about them face to face. There's something about the deeply personal aspect of listening to them; I feel like I really get to know the other person in a more intimate way than otherwise. My only problem? I'm a cradle Catholic, baptized as an infant, raised in the Church all my life... I don't have a conversion story to tell. Or at least, I didn't think I did.

That particular chapter of The Problem of Pain made me realize, though, that I have become a bit complacent in my spiritual life, something that isn't good. I'm an adult, and a confirmed one too, so I need to be responsible for my spiritual life and make adjustments if it's not where it should be. Easy? Not always, but that's what a loving God requires of us: that we daily die to self in order to become transformed into images of Him through grace. And so I've come to realize that, while I may not be the one sheep out of the 99 who has a dramatic story, that's OK. My conversions come in small ways, quietly, and I'm not often inclined to share them. But the overarching point is that I do have them. My task, then, is to respond to my loving God.