This room in this house (thoughts from "Mere Christianity")

Did you choose your denomination?
Or did it choose you?

C. S. Lewis equates our first steps into Christianity as being in a hallway. We don’t want to live there, but we wait there until we know which room (or “existing communion”) to enter.

Many come to Christ through the gateway of a denomination, perhaps that of their family or friend or co-worker. So they “feel certain almost at once which door they must knock at.” They are welcomed into the room and sit at the fire with others in genuine fellowship and discipleship.

But others, as Lewis puts it, “may find they have to wait in the hall for a considerable time...I do not know why there is this difference, but I am sure God keeps no one waiting unless He sees that it is good for him to wait. When you do get into your room you will find that the long wait has done you some kind of good which you would not have had otherwise. But you must regard it as waiting, not as camping.”

What I’ve learned about the house: some of the walls are thin and allow communication between rooms; some doors stay wide open while others are tightly shut; some rooms are noisy whereas others are dark and quiet; some are sparsely decorated but others are ornate.

My room has the reputation as the workshop of the house. “Let us labor for the Master from the dawn till setting sun...We’ll work (we’ll work) till Jesus comes... I will labor every day in the vineyard of the Lord...” But sometimes a party breaks out even there, and we remember to enjoy the rest the Master has already provided us.

And sometimes I hear laughter and wander over into the playroom, or dress up to enter the formal living room, or crawl up in the attic and enjoy fellowship there. I discover family in every nook and cranny, and the Father knows us all.

My denomination? I think it chose me first. And then I chose to stay. Sometimes gratefully ; sometimes reluctantly. I admit I’d like to move the furniture around, bring in some new pieces, and throw out some old, but I know the room is in the right house, so I stay. Most of the people I love the most, and who love me, are already gathered in this room. Other lovely brothers and sisters live in nearby rooms, so we meet in the hallway and visit each other’s rooms when we can.

It’s home. And there’s no place like it.

[Others' thoughts from the Preface of “Mere Christianity”]