When I hear the expression, “God help me,” I do not usually think of faith--maybe of frustration or fear, but not faith. In fact, the God in this particular cry is less of an address for the next words and more of an expression of emphasis. Generally, people who say “God help me” do not want help from God; they do not want help from anyone. They want relief, which is something entirely different.
C.S. Lewis explores the power of “God help me” in my favorite work of his, The Great Divorce. For those of you who have read it, I am speaking of the character with the spiritually parasitic lizard who, with a great deal of persuasion, permits an angel to kill the lizard. Those of you who have not read it may find that situation rather odd, and you are not wrong to feel that way, but I strongly recommend reading the book anyway.
Back to the story: The character fears pain, and even death, but realizes it would be better to die than to go on living with the unwanted attachment. So, he allows the lizard to be killed. Interestingly, the lizard does not actually die, but is instead transformed into a beautiful, powerful horse. The ghost, now transformed into a clean, radiant Solid Person, sits atop the horse and takes off towards the mountains (which in this story symbolize heaven). So the ghost quickly learns he has nothing to fear, but in the moments leading up to his transformation, he has no idea what is coming. As the transformation begins, he quietly whimpers, “God help me.” He does not want relief, for there is nothing yet from which he would need relief. So what does he want? Perhaps he asked for it directly; ask and you shall receive.
This character’s story is the redemption arc of the whole work, which is interesting, for of all the characters in the story, this one seems the least redeemable. I do not think it is a coincidence that while all the other characters from the Grey Town are rather clear in appearance, this character possesses a certain darkness. He seems less like a see-through person and more like a ghost. When I first read this work (a long time ago), my inclination towards this ghost-like character was pity. He seemed the least likely candidate to make the journey to the mountains. And yet, even the narrator, who seemed to have the best chance of all at making the journey, never actually set out for the mountains. That is not to say that he would not have if the story had continued. But as it stands, the only character who actually moved away from the bus from the Grey Town and toward the mountains was the very character who seemed least likely to do so.
I wonder if this has anything to do with his utterance of “God help me.” It seems every other see-through character either demands the help of his or her respective Solid Person, or else desperately tries to help his or her self. The Solid People are always reminding their respective see-through people to seek help from the only true source of help, and the only true source of any and all other things. This ghost, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to look anywhere else for help. When he finally comes to terms with the fact that he needs help, he immediately invokes the help of God. In turn, his sin is destroyed and made into something new and useful, and he himself is made into something beautiful.
This is not the posture with which I feel naturally compelled to approach anything in life. We live in a world that encourages self-confidence and self-love. This ghost was only able to be made new when he began to practice self-denial. So, even though this ghost is not the ghost with which I most identified, he is the ghost who made me feel most convicted. I should not fight the feelings of inadequacy and awareness of my own shortcomings which I often see as plagues in my life. If I really want to choose the mountains, I have to approach with the heart, mind, and soul in a posture resembling the whimper of “God help me.”
I found in this work that there were many characters who I silently (and in some cases, noisily) rooted for. Many of the characters seemed to be on the verge of persuasion to head to the mountains. Some even came to the high country looking for the mountains. But their reasons were wrong. They wanted to come to the mountains to see lost loved ones, or to feel important, or to fulfill desires of various other kinds. This ghost with the lizard, on the other hand, did not seem intent on reaching the mountains. He didn’t seem to desire anything strongly at all. I wonder if this had anything to do with the fact that he was able to choose the mountains. The narrator’s Solid Person put it best when he said, “Brass is mistaken for gold more easily than clay is.” Was the ghost more likely to choose heaven because he was given clay instead of brass? Perhaps. Was this fair? Perhaps not. But then, everyone was still given an equal opportunity to choose. Wherein lies the balance between what we can and cannot control, and wherein lies the balance of God’s mercy and his justice? That, I do not know.
In the real, far less Lewis-inspired world, brass and clay do not come in either/or packages. The world we live in is full of both brass and clay, and most people have a fairly good balance of the two. Therefore, it does not do to dwell on whether we were dealt a fair proportion of brass to clay or clay to brass (depending on which we think we need). Instead, reasonable application of Lewis’s wisdom to our brass and clay inventory is to readily give both away: to stand at the foot of the cross, brass and clay laid before us, in a posture of ultimate repentance and humility. There, with full sincerity and supernatural, God-given faith, we say, “God, help me.” And there, God has already come down in Christ to take the brass and clay alike and to replace it with the fullness and righteousness of himself. Like the ghost, unclean and unworthy though we were, we make off towards the High Country, having been made completely new.
"For he has not despised or abhorred the affliction of the afflicted, and he has not hidden his face from him, but has heard, when he cried to him." -Psalm 22:24
I wonder if this has anything to do with his utterance of “God help me.” It seems every other see-through character either demands the help of his or her respective Solid Person, or else desperately tries to help his or her self. The Solid People are always reminding their respective see-through people to seek help from the only true source of help, and the only true source of any and all other things. This ghost, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to look anywhere else for help. When he finally comes to terms with the fact that he needs help, he immediately invokes the help of God. In turn, his sin is destroyed and made into something new and useful, and he himself is made into something beautiful.
This is not the posture with which I feel naturally compelled to approach anything in life. We live in a world that encourages self-confidence and self-love. This ghost was only able to be made new when he began to practice self-denial. So, even though this ghost is not the ghost with which I most identified, he is the ghost who made me feel most convicted. I should not fight the feelings of inadequacy and awareness of my own shortcomings which I often see as plagues in my life. If I really want to choose the mountains, I have to approach with the heart, mind, and soul in a posture resembling the whimper of “God help me.”
I found in this work that there were many characters who I silently (and in some cases, noisily) rooted for. Many of the characters seemed to be on the verge of persuasion to head to the mountains. Some even came to the high country looking for the mountains. But their reasons were wrong. They wanted to come to the mountains to see lost loved ones, or to feel important, or to fulfill desires of various other kinds. This ghost with the lizard, on the other hand, did not seem intent on reaching the mountains. He didn’t seem to desire anything strongly at all. I wonder if this had anything to do with the fact that he was able to choose the mountains. The narrator’s Solid Person put it best when he said, “Brass is mistaken for gold more easily than clay is.” Was the ghost more likely to choose heaven because he was given clay instead of brass? Perhaps. Was this fair? Perhaps not. But then, everyone was still given an equal opportunity to choose. Wherein lies the balance between what we can and cannot control, and wherein lies the balance of God’s mercy and his justice? That, I do not know.
In the real, far less Lewis-inspired world, brass and clay do not come in either/or packages. The world we live in is full of both brass and clay, and most people have a fairly good balance of the two. Therefore, it does not do to dwell on whether we were dealt a fair proportion of brass to clay or clay to brass (depending on which we think we need). Instead, reasonable application of Lewis’s wisdom to our brass and clay inventory is to readily give both away: to stand at the foot of the cross, brass and clay laid before us, in a posture of ultimate repentance and humility. There, with full sincerity and supernatural, God-given faith, we say, “God, help me.” And there, God has already come down in Christ to take the brass and clay alike and to replace it with the fullness and righteousness of himself. Like the ghost, unclean and unworthy though we were, we make off towards the High Country, having been made completely new.
"For he has not despised or abhorred the affliction of the afflicted, and he has not hidden his face from him, but has heard, when he cried to him." -Psalm 22:24
