Clive Staples Lewis was born in Belfast, Northern Ireland, November 29, 1898. From an early age, Clive, who insisted on being called Jacksie, exhibited a vivid imagination. He began writing and illustrating stories at the tender age of five. He and his older brother Warren enjoyed their time together, reading, writing, walking and
riding bicycles. They enjoyed one another’s company so much; they did not care to be bothered by relationships with others. They were expected to go to church and told to say their prayers, but not told the reason why they should do these things.
Their childhood home was full of books and they were always encouraged to read whatever they liked from their parent’s vast library. At age ten, Warren was sent off to boarding school in England, as was customary in that day. Jacksie was a very lonely seven year old without his brother, but their mother, Flora taught Jack French and Latin, so that when Warren came home for holidays, the boys were able to converse in three languages. They continued to relish their sibling camaraderie as they cherished the time spent together on school breaks.
Unfortunately, the idyllic childhood was to come to an abrupt end. When Jacksie was nine and Warren twelve, their mother died of stomach cancer. Warren was away at school when she died and Jack was left at home with their grieving father. Jacksie had prayed and prayed for healing for his mom, but she died despite his prayers. Warren returned home for the funeral and afterward, their father, Albert arranged for Jack (which he now insisted he be called) to return to boarding school with his brother. Jack was very happy to go, since Albert was suffering so much grief that he barely noticed his son’s own suffering.
Jack began to wonder why his prayers were not answered as he was introduced to some doctrine on prayer at the boarding school. Surely, the teachers were well-meaning when they urged the boys to pray earnestly and consciously, concentrating on each word said. But the net result of this was that Jack thought his mother had died because he had not prayed this way before her death. To him, Christianity represented pain, sadness and misery and he began to wish his very meager faith could disappear from his life altogether. He wished to be left alone, in the world of his own imagination.
Both boys moved on to different schools and continued learning. They had all the required subjects, but Jack also read much about the world’s religions. He found that Christian authors always dismissed the other faiths as mere illusion or myth. But if Christ was all powerful, why did He not heal Jack’s mother? Why did He allow so much suffering in the world and what about man’s inhumanity to man? These questions with such elusive answers made the shedding of his feeble faith all the more easy. His inquisitive mind could be satisfied by the simple exercise of stopping his thinking about the subject and embracing a complacent and convenient atheism.
From this point, Jack read Norse literature. He found what he thought to be deep joy as he learned of Norse gods, and though he knew it was all myth; it seemed to fill a void in his life. It was a myth he could embrace, none of the Norse gods had let him down. Soon, he encountered Wagner and the Ring Opera and found that he was very inspired by the story as well as the music. He began writing more stories with new vigor.
About this time, Jack was pulled from his public education to be privately tutored by William Kirkpatrick who also tutored his brother Warren and years before, their father. The “Great Knock”, as he was known was retired from the college where Albert had attended and was living in England at Surrey. Always an educator, he took on several boarding students a year, at his own home, for intensive college preparatory classes. Jack was plunged into reading and translating the Iliad and the Odyssey. He also continued learning all he could about Norse mythology and added Greek mythology to his passion. But somehow, the study of all things mythological had only served to make him less interested in them.
Jack sat for scholarship to Oxford in 1916 and passed his first round. Next, he was tested in all areas of academics and failed his math tests. He did very well in all other areas, so he was advised to do some intensive study of the hated subject and try again. Off he went to study for a one-term crash course in math with Mr. Kirkpatrick. On an excursion during this time, he found a copy of Phantastes by George MacDonald, an unheard of author to Jack. As he read the small volume, it captured a long lost emotion in him and he realized where his former reading had taken him-down a dark path. The gentle fairy story reminded him of his idyllic childhood spent with his brother and the stories they concocted. It was a very pleasant surprise; it was as if it kept him from delving any further into the darkness.
Jack took his next set of tests but failed math again. He stayed in residence there and joined the Officer Training Corps on the understanding that he was to continue studying math. At this time in history, England was embroiled in WWI. Many Irish and English boys were being sent to the front lines in France, including Warren. Jack knew that he was destined to go as well, but wanted first to get into Oxford. He completed his training and was sent to France. Jack met many men, and there were many devout Christians among them. He liked them, but could not understand how they could cling to a belief in Christ; it both puzzled him and disconcerted him. Many of these good men died there.
Jack fell ill with trench fever, and was sent to a hospital far from the front lines. He picked up a book by G.K. Chesterton and found himself irritated at the author’s faith in the Christian God. After being sent back to the battlefield, Jack was wounded by an exploding shell. He was soon sent home and declared “medically unfit” to remain in the army.
In January 1919, Jack was back at Oxford and found to his delight that all ex-servicemen were exempt from taking the much blighted math tests. He was accepted then as an official undergraduate at Oxford, majoring in philosophy and ancient history. Finally, his ultimate goal had been realized. He knew, as did his professors that he was destined to be either a writer or a tutor and Oxford was the place to become either.
About this time, Jack had his first writing published. His book, Spirits in Bondage came out, under the pseudonym of Clive Hamilton.
With his first publication behind him, Jack became a serious student. He loved Oxford and loved his studies. He found so many with the same interests as himself, except that many were Christians and this irritated him. He found two men, Alfred Harwood and Arthur Barfield, with whom he spent hours and hours talking and arguing on everything. Eventually the two friends began to question the meaning of life and became Christians, much to Jack’s dismay. He thought they should be burdened by their new faith, but instead they seemed to be free from some kind of yoke. Jack found a new friend in Neville Coghill. They spent time walking and talking about their studies and the books they were reading. During one of these treks, Jack brought up Christianity and scoffed at “those fools who rely on religion for moral support”. Neville did not agree with Jack, but instead announced that he was a Christian. Jack thought the whole world was going crazy.
Jack had met a great Irishman in the war, who died in France. Jack promised Paddy Moore that if he died there, he would take care of Paddy’s mother and sister in his stead. Jack had been doing just that and found himself involved in helping her with her brother. The man was going mad and later, Jack took turns with Mrs. Moore in caring for him, when finally he had to be taken to the hospital after a final screaming fit. He died hours later upon suffering a heart attack. After his personal belongings were being sorted, his involvement with the occult was discovered. Jack was grateful for George MacDonald and G. K. Chesterton that day; they kept him from going down his own dark path. Yet at the same time, he did not want to admit that there was anything to this Christian myth that seemed so popular at the time.
Jack began to spend more and more time alone in his study reading more than usual, only to discover that his favorite authors were all Christians. Was there no escape? He tried reading authors that were avowed atheists, but their writing was tiresome to him. He felt he was like a fish on a hook, slowly being reeled in by an unseen force.
Jack continued his studies and in 1924, gained his fellowship and was given a temporary post at University College. He gave four tutorials each day and two lectures every week. After a year at this post, he was offered a fellowship at Magdalen College with accommodations and an annual salary. He accepted and made some interesting friends there. One of which was John Tolkien, another William Yeats.
These writers held discussions in Jack’s rooms and exchanged manuscripts for advice. They became known as the “Inklings”. Jack thought he was finally safe from the threat of Christianity. Until he found that Tolkien was a Christian.
One night as Jack and a friend who was an avowed atheist were talking; his friend mentioned that “You could almost believe what the Gospels say really did happen”. Jack was horrified. If this man, who was not even close to being a believer, could make such a statement, would it be safe to explore his own opinions about Christianity and test them? If people he considered bright, intelligent, and strong-willed believed, could it be true? Did he not owe it to himself to at least take a good look at what he had so passionately avoided? Jack was not ready to admit defeat yet. He threw himself into the study of Old Icelandic language to keep his mind thoroughly occupied.
Warren and Jack went home to Ireland for Christmas. Warren was still in the military and was being sent to the East. Within a few weeks after Warren left, Albert became ill with incurable cancer. Jack was able to spend the last days with his father and Warren was soon sent home. They had to sell the family home and a few weeks after this, while working in his study one evening, Jack surrendered. He could feel God’s goodness and peace all around and at the age of thirty-one, he knelt and prayed.
In his autobiography, Lewis admitted that while he prayed at that time, he was only acknowledging his belief in God. He was still searching out the reality of Jesus as the Son of God. He was not quite sure of the exact way in which he came to complete belief and acceptance. He knew because of his experience in literary criticism that the Gospels were not written as myths, in fact, he said, “…and nothing else in all literature was just like this.” “This was not a religion, nor a philosophy. It is the summing up and actuality of them all.” He said that he knew when, but not how the final step was taken. He started out on a trip to the zoo, he had not been in deep thought or emotion, but when he arrived, he believed. His long search was finally over.
