Miracles audiobook

My inveterate hatred of magazines began during my sophomore year of college. I was at a friend's apartment, waiting for him to get out of the shower, when I noticed a TIME magazine on his coffee table. It had a big picture of Jesus on it, with the headline "What Do We Really Know About Jesus?"At the time I was an atheist or, more accurately, an agnostic. But I'd spent quite a bit of time in class that year reading and discussing significant portions of the Old and New Testaments, as well as translating parts of "Matthew" from the Greek. I was interested to see what the world of thoughtful people in the modern world did really know about Jesus.I opened the magazine to the appropriate page. Among a distracting array of pie graphs and extraneous graphics, I was able to locate some actual text. It began by stating that the writers had gathered together a group of the best minds, experts in their fields, to consider what, in fact, we really know about Jesus, the historical figure.The very first thing we can really say, according to this council of learned individuals, is that we must dismiss the miracles recounted in the Bible. I stopped and read this again. I almost couldn't believe it.In the Bible, Jesus mainly does two things: he talks, and he performs miracles. The fact that he is doing extraordinary things in between the things he says seems, to me anyway, to be a necessary part of the story: it gives his words authority. The miracles are proof that he knows something about the world that we don't know. Maybe the whole thing is made up, words and miracles both. This was vaguely my position at the time. Considered in this way, as literature, you can say lots of interesting things about the characters and events created by the author, just as you can say lots of interesting things about the characters and events in Don Quixote. When considering any literature, however, it is nonsense to discount the action all together and simply consider the dialogue. You wouldn't read Moby Dick and skip all the descriptions of what happened and just read the dialogue. Furthermore, when considering literature, the actual "historical" events on which the piece is based mean next to nothing. Moby Dick might have been based on a "historical" whaling ship, or a real captain, but who cares?If we consider the New Testament not as literature, but as a historical document, does it make any kind of sense to dismiss the miracles? Did Jesus, for example, walk around saying things, but not performing miracles? And then, later, somebody just wrote the miracles in? This is possible, but if it is, the person or people who recorded the events of the New Testament are completely unreliable. If they added in whatever events they wanted, why should we assume they kept strictly to the words Jesus said? If, therefore, Jesus walked around saying things but not performing miracles, we can have no idea what he said. The words must be taken to be as made up as the miracles are, which brings us back to considering it as literature.But on what basis are the miracles dismissed? Really? People said that they saw them. People were convinced by them, some of them convinced enough to die. Those two statements are historical fact. Those two statements are, in fact, something that we "really" know.It's true, certainly, that anyone may find the statements of these people unconvincing. They are unconvincing because they do not fit into the framework of the world that we have in our minds. Like it or not, we are all dogmatists. There are too many crazy claims in the world for any of us not to be. If, for example, I told you that my neighbor drives a red Volvo, you would probably believe me. The fact that somebody drives a red Volvo fits into the world as you understand it. If I told you (as someone once tried to tell me) that you could get rich teaching financial planning, because all you would have to do would be to get 20 other people to teach financial planning, and they would get 20 other people, and so on, you would (hopefully) not believe me. Even if I offered you "proof," by taking you to a seminar where the first guy who started all this was standing up in front of everyone talking about how rich he was, you still (hopefully) would not believe me.My point with these two examples is that in the first case no proof was offered except my statement, and it was believable. In the second place some actual proof was offered, and it is still unbelievable. Believability depends, not so much on the proof offered, but almost entirely on how you view the world.Now I'm getting to the heart of what really infuriated me about this article. The only reason to listen to experts is because we expect them to know something that we don't know ourselves. They have spent time studying facts, and in return for this we give them authority. We take what they say as truth without looking for the proof ourselves.Insidiously, these experts did exactly the opposite of what they were supposed to do. They took my own dogma, the dogma of our age, that "miracles can't happen," they swallowed it whole and without question, and then they vomited it back up to me, the reader, as some kind of established fact, as something that we really "know." They used their authority to divorce me from the truth and responsibility of the fact that I was following a dogma.The only thing they were experts in was what historical records show. Besides in the matter of historical records, the opinions of these people had no more value than my own. Historical records show, as I said before, that people said they saw these things and that people believed in them. No historical records show that these things were made up. What kind of people, then, would say "As historians, the first thing to start with is the dismissing of all the miracles"?The truthful thing to say would be: "Speaking strictly historically, there is as much proof as we could reasonably expect for the events related in the New Testament, and nothing to disprove them. This does not, of course, constitute positive proof such extraordinary events really happened."Still, I find it interesting to think about what constitutes "proof" of something. In the mathematical world, which is not "real," proof is a real thing. It's the ironclad, indisputable application of certain narrowly defined rules to certain narrowly defined objects. I wonder, however, whether the word "proof" has any meaning in the real world. Can anything in the real world be proven in the ironclad sense in which it can in mathematics? Whatever your answer to this may be, what then does that answer mean about how to proceed with people making outrageous claims, such as those made by people claiming they've seen miracles, or UFOs, or ghosts?This is a review of the book "Miracles," and you are probably wondering where the review is. In fact, you have just read it. Everything I have discussed here is discussed in the book, in much greater detail and (obviously) with much more wisdom. The book is a logical argument concerning the question: Is the New Testament true?It starts without asking you to believe anything and makes a series of logical steps which lead, eventually, to a belief in Christianity. Well, actually, at one point the steps become illogical because, as argued in the book, there are some questions that logic can't answer. Before anybody gets too upset, by "questions that logic can't answer" I don't mean anything especially deep, I mean questions about experience. I have a blue flower growing in my backyard. Is that statement true or false? Logic simply cannot tell you. You have to come to my backyard and see. Or, you have to make a probable judgment based on what you know about me, and about blue flowers. That's what I mean.Anyway, the book winds up at an acceptance of Christianity, and uses some of its space in the analyzing of some of the miracles attributed to Jesus. Some of Mr. Lewis's descriptions and interpretations of these miracles are heartbreakingly beautiful, and I wish everybody could read them. One passage I remember is the description of a man diving into the mud, like a pearl-diver, and disappearing beneath the surface, swimming down down down, into the very heart of what can only be called the bottom of the earth, and then gently, slowly, lifting with his whole body, reascending with the whole weight of everything upon his back. Every time I read and reread this passage it brought tears to my eyes. A much sillier and less well-written description of this same kind of action, by the way, can be found in that cheesy country song from the 1960's: "Big John." But the recurrence of similar themes found in the popular arts and religion, both before and after the New Testament, is discussed in the book as well.This most certainly winds up at the Christian perspective, and so in that way it is a Christian book. On the other hand, when I hear Christians speak generally they seem to take as accepted many things which many of their listeners don't seem to take as accepted. For instance, at a funeral the other day the preacher kept repeating that we can all take comfort in knowing that the deceased was with Jesus. I would have been willing to bet that at least half the people in the room did not, in fact, believe that the deceased was "with Jesus," and so the preacher's words were empty. More than that, they seemed to be filled with silly promises that fell on deaf ears.Now, my point about this is that, in my experience, most Christians talk as if they are preaching to the choir, when in fact they are not. This is one of the annoying things about many Christians that I've met. Maybe they can't help it, or never think of it, but in any case that is not at all what goes on in Mr. Lewis's book. It is respectful of the idea of doubt, and even of non-belief: it just asks the reader to follow through with the logical consequences of whatever his position is.I would be interested to know, in light of this, where in the book an atheist or an agnostic or a Jew or Buddhist or Muslim would begin to disagree with Mr. Lewis. I have my suspicions. Probably most people would find the part about our innate belief in rationality itself to be a little dubious. This part of the argument reminded me of nothing so much as Descartes' famous statement: "I think, therefore I am."Even before I'd read this book, I'd spent a long time thinking about that statement and what it actually means. It's really complex and very deep, and Descartes, in the "Meditations," really doesn't do it enough justice. I think he talks about it for 2 pages or something.Anyway, Mr. Lewis's argument about rationality seems to be exactly the same kind of philosophical statement. In both cases, if you just read it and continue on, you're not understanding what you've read. Maybe nobody can really understand it, but the idea behind it seems to have a true bearing on the world around us, and how we should react to it and interpret it.Flipping through a collection of Peter Singer essays at a friend's house, I came across a place where he mentioned this argument and referred to it as "intellectual judo." Needless to say, it appeared to me to be Mr. Singer who was engaging in "intellectual judo," with the added negativity of sneering dismissively while he did it. But I will admit that neither author devotes the space to this question that it really deserves. Maybe nobody could.Anyway, I think all of us are lost in this world and, for me anyway, this beautiful and interesting book gave me some alternate interpretations of things that made a structured kind of sense. I'm certain that not everyone will be convinced by this book, but I think anyone who reads it honestly can't help but gain more respect for the Christian viewpoint than it sometimes seems to deserve based on the behavior of some of its adamant adherents.

I am trying to read through Lewis's Canon which is extremely fluid in places, not quite as canonized as Shakespeare. This book is pure Lewis. He takes a subject and logically works his way through it. We do not always understand what he is saying but he says it so well we do not care.I always feel sad while reading Lewis that he is dead and not sitting across from me at the Bird and the Baby.

Lewis is so brilliant.

Excellent. Went through it again in March of 2016. Richer each time.

I thoroughly enjoyed this. I admit I was skeptical of the book at first, simply because I am not that interested in the philosophical debate on whether miracles happen or not, and because Lewis can be unpractically heady sometimes. But the book was much more than this.The best way I know how to describe the book is to say that it is very similar to the apologetic works of Francis Schaeffer—yet more philosophical and I would say less clear than Schaeffer. His insights, critiques, and reasonings about presuppositions, naturalism, Nature, pantheism, the human spirit/rationality, and more all make it sound like you’re reading a Francis Schaeffer book (although, since Lewis wrote this first, I now realize how much Schaeffer might have relied upon Lewis). But I love Francis Schaeffer’s apologetic books. I think he’s spot on. And so, I loved this book. It wasn’t easy, but I ate it up.So what is the book about? Well honestly, not mainly miracles. Sure, his thesis is that miracles happen—especially the large ones in Christianity (Incarnation, Resurrection particularly). But in order to prove this, he spends the vast majority of his time not on miracles themselves, but instead on Nature (I capitalize only because Lewis did), Naturalism, Pantheism, Man, and God. The proof of miracles only comes when one logically and truly thinks about these things. It is more of a corollary than the center.Time does not permit me to detail so many of the arguments made. But if I had to (insufficiently) summarize his main arguments, it would be as follows:—He begins by addressing presuppositions. He really wants people to not just deny miracles because of a blind Naturalistic presupposition, or other presuppositions. (If you’ve read Schaeffer, do you see how this is Schaeffer-like?)From this, he shows that there cannot only be Nature. This means Naturalism, which is just another form of Pantheism, or Everythingism, cannot be true. He proves this by mainly talking about us as humans, Reason, and Morality. He has a brilliant—and I mean brilliant—extended argument about how Morality proves this on pages 55-60. And he argues similarly from human Reason, showing that it is either from Another, or it cannot be trusted since it is just randomly risen from the Everything.From here, he argues that since Reasoning and Morality have clearly been invasions into Nature (meaning, they come from outside, from Another), then can there be other things from this Other that come in, namely, miracles?Then he spends a chapter answering some weak and non-credible arguments people give in response to all this. This is excellent.Then he takes more time to talk about who God is and must be. From here, his biggest argument for why miracles must be is not that they are unnatural, but rather that they are part of the totality that God created. In this way, yes, they are super-natural (above Nature, from God), but they are not like random outbursts of God in the world. Rather, their existence was always intentional; and is just as natural therefore as Nature itself.He says it this way, miracles “have occurred because they are the very thing this universal story is about. They are not exceptions (however rarely they occur) not irrelevancies. They are precisely those chapters in this great story on which the plot turns. Death and Resurrection are what they story is about” (157). Or to say it simpler, it isn’t helpful to think nature is what truly is, and miracles are random disjunctive outbursts of God. Rather, God—who is the ‘God of Nature,’ as Lewis points out over and over—always intended on these miracles, and the Incarnation, Death, and Resurrection of Christ always were central in this God-created-nature.Then Lewis has a long chapter on the Incarnation, which was probably my least favorite chapter in the book. Still some insights, but long and a tad confusing.But he finally ends by addressing Jesus’ miracles. This was brilliant. First, he says that “in all [Christ’s] miracles alike the incarnate God does suddenly and locally something that God has done or will do in general. Each miracle writes for us in small letters something that God has already written, or will write, in letters almost too large to be noticed, across the whole canvas of Nature. They focus at a particular point either God’s actual, or His future, operations on the universe” (219). This is exactly what Jesus’ miracles were.But he explains Jesus’ miracles even further, separating them into two categories: miracles of the Old Creation in one chapter, and miracles of the New Creation in another. The Old Creation miracles focus on “what the God of Nature has already done on a larger scale” (229), meaning, in this Nature/Creation. For example, when Jesus stops the storm, God already is stopping/creating storms everyday. Or when Jesus is born of a virgin: God already is the one who gives conception everyday, albeit he usually (except in this one instance) uses male sperm. Or, God is always the one in control of the process of turning grapes/water into wine; Jesus just does it suddenly. Or, God is always the one who heals anything that gets broken or fixed. Yes, we use medicine and our bodies do it, but God is the one doing it really. So when Jesus heals, he is doing something God does everyday, just, as Lewis said, “suddenly and locally.” (Brilliant stuff, isn’t it?).But the miracles of the New Creation show us something of the New Creation, or New Nature for the world, that is coming. This is true of when Jesus, and then even Peter, walks on water. This is not done now in this Nature. But this New Creation is esspecially obvious in the Resurrection and Ascension. Lewis spends a while on these, and he does so by focusing on the resurrected body of Christ mainly. He shows that Jesus’ body almost defies what we can imagine. Why? Because it isn’t of this Nature. Isn’t a merely physical body. But it also isn’t a ghost or anything just ‘spiritual’, meaning, non-material. It is Supernatural or another Nature. It gives us a foretaste of what will be in the New Creation, or again, the New Nature.Then in the Epilogue, he once again goes back to presuppositions. He begs that if you want to look further into the miracles of Christ, read the New Testament. He warns that if you go to modern scholars, they might mean well, but they often are so influenced by their Naturalistic presuppositions that they don’t see clearly.Then finally in the Epilogue he talks about being careful to not just drift back into “your habitual outlook” (270). And I loved this ending, because he’s right. He argues that the arguments for God, non-Naturalism, and therefore miracles is so strong, and that you probably are agreeing with him because of it, but once you put the book down, realize the room your in, go back to the ‘real world’, you’ll be tempted to simply go back to what is your habitual outlook on life—which, because of the air we breathe in our culture we live in right now, is Naturalism. So he says to watch out.Then in the first appendix, he helpfully shows what we mean by the word ‘spirit’ (he comes up with four definitions, all of which are used and are different) and how the Regenerate ‘spirt’ is of a totally different thing altogether—it is part of this New Creation, and it changes everything about someone, not just their soul, spirit, or psychology, but all of them.—So would I recommend the book? It matters. If you love Schaeffer, apologetics, thinking about who God is, who we are, why we are the way we are, and what is to come, then absolutely, It is brilliant. Confusing at times, yes, but brilliant. But if you’re looking for something devotional, or something to simply prove the possibility of miracles, then stay away. You won’t find that here. But you will find something great, substantial, and thought-changing. I am so so glad I read it, and I’ll definitely read it again, Lord willing.

I slogged through the first ten chapters, plodding onward because it was C.S. Lewis. Then the door cracked open in chapter 11 and by chapter 14 I was illuminated and enthralled. It seemed that his audience for the earlier section was readers without faith. But once he started describing The Grand Miracle (the incarnation of Christ) and several other classes of miracles, my attention was fixed. I have added a new Goodreads bookshelf: Terminal DX. There are several titles that I would like to read if (when?) I were given a terminal diagnosis. ("Always be prepared.") This book is included. The last Narnia book is another. I think chapter 14 may become an annual Advent reading with my husband. I'm blushing to write this, but Curt and I have always privately protested the verses about no marriage and no sex in heaven. When a taste of heaven is given in our bedroom, it's hard to imagine no conjugal beds in heaven. If you've wondered about this, go to page 260 for the most brilliant explanation I've read.

A challenging but rewarding book if you’re willing to give Lewis the attention he deserves as he makes his arguments. This book is classic Lewisian logic from beginning to end and worthwhile if for no other reason than to see a great mind at work. I especially love his argument, which he develops across several great chapters, that miracles are “no inconsistency, but the highest consistency.” Miracles are the disruptions of Nature that point to a deeper harmony of the universe. By definition, miracles must of course interrupt the usual course of Nature; but if they are real they must, in the very act of so doing, assert all the more the unity and self-consistency of total reality at some deeper level. They will not be like unmetrical lumps of prose breaking the unity of a poem; they will be like that crowning metrical audacity which, though it may be paralleled nowhere else in the poem, yet, coming just where it does, and effecting just what it effects, is (to those who understand) the supreme revelation of the unity in the poet's conception. (The Literary Life Podcast’s 2 for '22 Reading Challenge: History/biography/topical with "opposing" perspectives – Second choice)

This was a great book. Maybe a little longer than it needed to be. The arguments seemed at times to repeat themselves. I could see how this was restated in other books that came after this one. But overall I was blessed to read it as a part of my read through of all of Lewis’s works. Highly recommended

Astonishing book. It is a dense, complex and not easy to read book. It was hard for me to put it down. Reading "Mere Christianity" and "Screwtape Letters" , C.S. Lewis has not appear to me being heavily engaging. This book was another league. The title does not suggest entirely the brilliance and complexity of the book, but exceeded my expectations.

The first two-thirds is particularly good. In it, Lewis gives a defense of supernaturalism (contra. materialism) and, by extension, miracles. The last third gets a bit more speculative in parts when Lewis seeks to show the fittedness of Christian miracles.One of Lewis’ most intelligent works of non-fiction. Brilliant.

Assez fou la façon dont chaque livre de Lewis me semble être mon nouveau livre préféré. Mais Miracles l'est d'une façon particulière, philosophie, littérature, piété. Véritablement excellent, me donne une envie de relire les Evangiles.

This book is Lewis walking through each argument against miracles and explaining why miracles are possible despire said arguments.Again, I do necessarily agree with everything but that's ok. This is still a good book, even though it is very hard to get through.Recommended 14+