more God than artist

I’m breaking the blog rule and putting out a long post, but Wait!  I have a good reason and you don’t have to actually finish the blog if you don’t want too which might actually make this one of the shortest blogs I’ve ever written.

I wanted to give an example of a piece of art where I clearly hear/feel God.  In fact I’d go as far to say that God used C.S. Lewis to write this.  It was more God than Lewis in these words.

Please share one of your favorite art pieces in which you felt God speak!  (song, book, poem, painting, ect.)  If you can, attach it in your comment post.  If not give us the artist name and title of the piece.  Maybe even explain when or how God used it.  And…thank you in advance for sharing!  I can’t wait to hear your favorites!  Below is one of my favorites since childhood.  If you would like, go ahead and read it.  I hope you enjoy it!


And being very tired and having nothing inside him, he felt so sorry for himself that the tears rolled down his cheeks.  What put a stop to all this was a sudden fright.  Shasta discovered that someone or somebody was walking beside him.  It was pitch dark and he could see nothing.  And the Thing (or Person) was going to quietly that he could hardly hear any footfalls.  What he could hear was breathing.  His invisible companion seemed to breathe on a very large scale…

            If the horse had been any good—or if he had known how to get any good our of the horse—he would have risked everything on a breakaway and a wild gallop.  But he knew he couldn’t make that horse gallop.  So he went on at a walking pace and the unseen companion walked and breathed beside him.  At last he could bear it no longer.  “Who are you?” he said, scarcely above a whisper.

            “One who has waited long for you to speak,” said the Thing.  Its voice was not loud, but very large and deep…

            “Oh please—please do go away.  What harm have I ever done you?  Oh, I am the unluckiest person in the whole world!”  Once more he felt the warm breath of the Thing on his hand and face.  “There,” it said, “that is not the breath of a ghost.  Tell me your sorrows.”  Shasta was a little reassured by the breath: so he told how he had never known his real father or mother and had been brought up sternly by the fisherman.  And then he told the story of his escape and how they were chased by lions and forced to swim for their lives; and of all their dangers in Tashbaan and about his night among the tombs and how the beasts howled at him our of the desert.  And he told about the heat and thirst of their desert journey and how they were almost at their foal when another lion chased them and wounded Aravis.  And also, how very long it was since he had had anything to eat.

            “I do not call you unfortunate,” said the Large Voice.  “Don’t you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.  “There was only one lion,” said the Voice.  “What on earth do you mean?  I’ve just told you there were at least two the first night, and…”  “There was only one; but he was swift of foot.”  “How do you know?”

            “I was the lion.”

            And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued.  “I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis.  I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead.  I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept.  I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time.  And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.”

            “Then it was you who wounded Aravis?”

            “It was I.”

            “But what for?”

            “Child,” said the Voice, “I am telling you your story, not hers.”


(C.S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy)


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4 thoughts on “more God than artist

  1. sammiebennett on said:

    AND now I want to re-read the Chronicles all over again. Horse and His Boy was probably my favorite too. 🙂 Okay, so what comes to mind for me is a wee bit strange. But here goes. When I was going through a pretty hard time relationally, I was listening to Pandora and Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles came on. Deep inside, I felt God’s nudge to listen up. Which, again, struck me as strange. But as I listened to the lyrics, I felt such relief. By the end of the song I was weeping. So, yup, thank you Jesus for The Beatles. I’ve pasted the lyrics below:

    Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
    And I say it’s all right

    Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter
    Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here
    Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
    And I say it’s all right

    Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
    Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here
    Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
    And I say it’s all right

    Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
    Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
    Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
    Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
    Sun, sun, sun, here it comes

    Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting
    Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been clear
    Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
    And I say it’s all right

    Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
    It’s all right, it’s all right

    THE BEATLES Lyrics, Here Comes The Sun

  2. Great idea, Heather! Well, here are a few excerpts from C.S. Lewis’ The Screwtape Letters which I read some months ago for the first time. Very interesting:

    ON PLEASURE: “Never forget that when we are dealing with any pleasure in its healthy and normal and satisfying form, we are, in a sense, on the Enemy’s ground. I know we have won many a soul through pleasure. All the same, it is His invention, not ours. He made the pleasures; all our research so far has not enabled us to produce one. All we can do is to encourage the humans to take the pleasures wheich our Enemy has produced, at times, or in ways, or in degrees, which He has forbidden. Hence we always try to work away from the natural condition of any pleasure to that in which it is least natural, least redolent of its Maker, and least pelasurable.” (34)

    “[The Enemy] has filled His world full of pleasures. There are things for humans to do all day long without His minding in the least – sleeping, washing, eating, drinking, making love, playing, praying, working. Everything has to be twisted before it’s any use to us.” (87)

    ON LOSING SELF: “When [the Enemy] talks of their losing their selves, He only means abandoning the clamour of self-will; once they have done that, He really gives them back all their personality, and boasts (I am afraid, sincerely) that when they are wholly His they will be more themselves than ever. Hence, while He is delighted to see them sacrificing even their innocent wills to His, He hates to see them drifting awy from their own nature for any other reason. And we should always encourage them to do so. The deepest likings and impulses of any man are the raw material, the starting point, with which the Enemy has furnished him. (51)

    ON PRIDE: “The Enemy wants to bring the man to a state of mind in which he could design the best cathedral in the world, and know it to be the best, and rejoice in the fact, without being any more (or less) or otherwise glad at having done it than he would be if it had been done by another. The Enemy wants him, in the end, to be so free from any bias in his own favour that he can rejoice in his own talents as frankly and gratefully as in his neighbour’s talents – or in a sunrise, an elephant, or a waterfall. He wants each man, in the long run, to be able to recognise all creatures (even himself) as glorious and excellent things.” (55)

  3. And here I go again! Ray LaMontagne is one of my favorite artists ever! Here is a few lyrics from his song “Are We Really Through” which always opens my soul. You should hear it.

    Is the sun ever gonna break Break on through the clouds Shine down in all its glory?

    Onto me, here upon the ground ‘Cause I can’t hear a sound ‘Cept my own sad story

    I get so tired starin’ at the walls Weight so heavy and that mountain so tall Is there no one who would catch me if I fall? Is there no one who would catch me if I fall?

    It’s more, it’s more than I can take I wish that I could fake it Pretend like I don’t know what’s goin’ on

    Somethin’s wrong, somethin’s wrong Tryin’ to hold on For just a little longer

    I get so tired starin’ at the walls Weight so heavy and that mountain so tall Is there no one who would catch me if I fall? Who’s gonna catch me if I fall?

  4. If you live in Kitsap County, since I note you write for COTN, you should visit us at the Kitsap Christian Writers fellowship. We meet monthly…

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