Isn’t this idea of a literal heaven and hell a little outmoded?
A bishop who has outgrown the truth seems unaware of his abysmal predicament. He is lovingly confronted by his friend the priest, a man who, by the bishop’s standards, had regressed in his later years into an unseemly fundamentalism.
Is hell a logical necessity? How does it relate to God’s love?
Lewis, narrating the book as a character within it, meets his mentor-in-spirit, George MacDonald. He deftly meets Lewis’ barrage of questions, centering him on the concept that there are “those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and those to whom God says, in the end, ‘Thy will be done.’”
Is it really heaven, if it means letting go of treasured passions?
Through the stories of a possessive mother (or, rather, a mother possessed) and a man ruled by lust, we’ll see how God’s love relates to the addictions of the heart and flesh—and how He can transform them into beauty and strength!
Can the misery of the damned prevent the joy of the saints?
Is it she, Lewis wonders, the Queen of Heaven, led in great procession?! “Not at all,” MacDonald responds. “Her name on earth was Sarah Smith and she lived at Golders Green.” A sacrificing wife appeals to her sulking husband, begging him to release his mask of victimhood to share in the pleasures that are now hers.