Rats in the Cellar

I have been reading through Mere Christianity, a classic penned by C.S. Lewis.  It is really a terrific resource which deals with a lot of complex aspects of Christianity which he explains exceptionally well.  As an intellectual who once was an atheist, his insights are the product of wisdom from being born again and part of his own personal journey in knowing God.

One consequence of  coming to faith in Christ is a more sharpened sense of our own sinfulness.  Maturity in faith brings a greater sense of our need for Christ to transform us from within.  C.S. Lewis wrote:

When I come to evening prayers and try to reckon up the sins of the day, nine times out of ten the most obvious one is some sin against charity; I have sulked or snapped or sneered or snubbed or stormed.  And the excuse that immediately springs to my mind is that the provocation was so sudden and unexpected; I was caught off my guard, I had not time to collect myself.  Now that may be an extenuating circumstance as regards to those particular acts:  they would obviously be worse if they had been deliberate and premeditated.  On the other hand, surely what a man does when he is taken off his guard is the best evidence for what sort of man he is?  Surely what pops out before the man has time to put on a disguise is the truth?  If there are rats in a cellar you are most likely to see them if you go in very suddenly.  But the suddenness does not create the rats:  It only prevents them from hiding.  In the same way the suddenness of the provocation does not make me an ill-tempered man; it only shows me what an ill-tempered man I am.  The rats are always there in the cellar, but if you go in shouting and noisily they will have taken cover before you switch on the light.  Apparently the rats of resentment and vindictiveness are always there in the cellar of my soul.  Now that cellar is out of reach of my conscious will.  I can to some extent control my acts:  I have no direct control over my temperament.  And if (as I said before) what we are matters even more than what we do--if, indeed, what we do matters chiefly as evidence of what we are--then it follows that the change which I most need to undergo is a change that my own direct, voluntary efforts cannot bring about.  And this applies to my good actions too.  How many of them were done for the right motive?  How many for fear of public opinion, or a desire to show off?  How many form a sort of obstinacy or sense of superiority which, in different circumstances, might equally have led to some very bad act?  But I cannot, by direct moral effort, give myself new motives.  After the first few steps in the Christian life we realise that everything which really needs to be done in our souls can be done only by God.  (Lewis, C. S. Mere Christianity & the Screwtape Letters: Complete in One Volume. HarperSanFrancisco, 2003.)

I believe God allows us to be put off guard--not because it is a test we must pass or so God can know the conditions of our hearts--but so we will see the rats scrambling for cover in the cellar of our souls.  If we saw rats or evidence of rats because of damage or defecation in the pantry where we store our food, we would take prompt action to eradicate the pests.  We ought to do the same when our sinful reactions come to light.  Shrugging them off emboldens the pests to remain, to breed, to further corrupt the good God has wrought within us by grace.  On our own we could never eradicate or cleanse ourselves from sin, but through faith in Jesus Christ these victories are accomplished.