Finding Where We Fit

One of the themes I spoke on recently at a teen camp is the subtlety of sin, and it has an uncanny ability to appeal to our personal desires.  This is why examining our motives in light of God's truth is so important.  Thoughts and feelings are able to undercut biblical morality with ease and conceive sin before we even realise it.  A primary way this can happen is in relationships.  We all deal with insecurities on fundamental levels, and it is only when we find our identity in Christ and worth in His love of us where we can avoid being drawn away after sinful desires.

In an address titled "The Inner Ring," C.S. Lewis masterfully describes the subtle draw we all face in seeking to please people - and how elusive the belonging we desire can be.  He makes the point we are all parts of inner rings or circles, yet there are others we long to be a part of.  People are often willing to make concessions or compromise to be accepted, yet even when they achieve their end (having been further corrupted by the process) it cannot satisfy.  There is great risk of corruption of character in all those who aim to please men by "fitting in" instead of seeking to please God.  Here is an excerpt of this address as written in the book, "The Weight of Glory":

There must be in this room the makings of at least that number (two or three) of unscrupulous, treacherous, ruthless egotists.  The choice is still before you, and I hope you will not take my hard words about your possible future characters as a token of disrespect to your present characters.  And the prophecy I make is this.  To nine out of ten of you the choice which could lead to scoundrelism will come, when it does come, in no very dramatic colours.  Obviously bad men, obviously threatening or bribing, will almost certainly not appear.  Over a drink or a cup of coffee, disguised as a triviality and sandwiched between two jokes, from the lips of a man, or woman, whom you have recently been getting to know rather better and whom you hope to know better still - just at the moment when you are most anxious not to appear crude, or naif or a prig - the hint will come.  It will be the hint of something which is not quite in accordance with the technical rules of fair play; something which the public, the ignorant, romantic public, would never understand; something which even the outsiders in your own profession are apt to make a fuss about, but something, says your new friend, which "we" - and at the word "we" you try not to blush for mere pleasure - something "we always do".  And you will be drawn in, if you are drawn in, not by desire for gain or ease, but simply because at that moment, when the cup was so near your lips, you cannot bear to be thrust back again into the cold outer world.  It would be so terrible to see the other man's face - that genial, confidential, delightfully sophisticated face - turn suddenly cold and contemptuous, to know that you had been tried for the Inner Ring and rejected.  And then, if you are drawn in, next week it will be something a little further from the rules, and next year something further still, but all in the jolliest, friendliest spirit.  It may end in a crash, a scandal, and penal servitude; it may end in millions, a peerage, and giving the prizes at your old school.  But you will be a scoundrel.

That is my first reason.  Of all passions the passion for the Inner Ring is most skilful in making a man who is not yet a very bad man do very bad things.

My second reason is this.  The torture allotted to the Danaids in the classical underworld, that of attempting to fill sieves with water, is the symbol not of one vice but of all vices.  It is the very mark of a perverse desire that it seeks what is not to be had.  The desire to be inside the invisible line illustrates this rule.  As long as you are governed by that desire you will never get what you want.  You are trying to peel an onion; if you succeed there will be nothing left.  Until you conquer the fear of being an outsider, an outsider you will remain.

This is surely very clear when you come to think of it.  If you want to be made free of a certain circle for some wholesome reason - if, say, you want to join a musical society because you really like music - then there is a possibility of satisfaction.  You may find yourself playing in a quartet and you may enjoy it.  But if all you want is to be in the know, your pleasure will be short-lived.  The circle cannot have from within the charm it had from outside.  By the very act of admitting you it has lost its magic.  Once the first novelty is worn off, the members of this circle will be no more interesting than your old friends.  Why should thy be?  You were not looking for virtue or kindness or loyalty or humour or learning or wit or any of the things that can be really enjoyed.  You merely wanted to be "in".  And that is a pleasure that cannot last.  As soon as your new associates have been staled to you by custom, you will be looking for another Ring.  The rainbow's end will still be ahead of you.  The old Ring will now be only the drab background for your endeavour to enter the new one.

And you will always find them hard to enter, for a reason you very well know.  You yourself, once you are in, want to make it hard for the next entrant, just as those who are already in made it hard for you.  Naturally.  In any wholesome group of people which holds together for a good purpose, the exclusions are in a sense accidental.  Three or four people who are together for the sake of some piece of work exclude others because there is work only for so many or because the others can't in fact do it.  Your little musical group limits its numbers because the rooms they meet in are only so big.  But your genuine Inner Ring exists for exclusion.  There'd be no fun if there were no outsiders.  The invisible line would have no meaning unless most people were on the wrong side of it.  Exclusion is no accident; it is the essence.

The quest of the Inner Ring will break your hearts unless you break it. (Lewis, C. S. The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses. William Collins, 2013. pages 152-156)

I have grown out of many clothes and shoes by now, and as a grown man I am struck by all the things grown people do not and cannot grow out of by the passage of time alone.  The childish and adolescent desire for Inner Rings does not pass like a pubescent season of acne or a cracking voice but persists until it is done away with at the foot of Calvary through repentance.  How good it is to be loved and accepted by God, and only His acceptance buoys us in conflicts and heals the painful wounds of rejection.  Jesus knows what it is to be rejected.  He could never rise above the "carpenter's son" for some, and the religious elite viewed Him as a demon-possessed deceiver.  Yet Jesus was the Christ, the promised Messiah!  Jesus did not lose hope because He never placed His heart in the hands of men.  His satisfaction or pleasure was not sought in the accolades or praise of people but in doing the will of the Father.  Praise Jesus for His example, and that we can walk with Him every step of the way.  In Jesus I have found a perfect fit.