
By Joe Byerly
They checked the news first thing in the morning. Then again at lunch. Then one more time before bed. They waited for life to return to something that felt recognizable. It was hard to believe that leaders could be so casually selfish—treating the lives of entire groups of people as raw material for an ideology. Gradually, the work in front of them began to feel smaller. Easier to postpone. And more often than not, they caught themselves wondering why what they were doing mattered, when the world seemed to be falling apart.
Those were the stressors that wouldn’t go away, and the question they carried with them, as they stepped into an almost 700-year-old church on a Sunday morning in October 1939 to hear a forty-year-old Oxford professor named C.S. Lewis address the students sitting shoulder to shoulder in the wooden pews.
Over the course of his sermon, he spoke to them about war, uncertainty, fear, and the temptation to put their lives on hold until the world made sense again. He spoke about the danger of postponing meaningful work while waiting for better days.
“If we let ourselves, we shall always be waiting for some distraction or other to end before we can really get down to our work,” Lewis told them. “The only people who achieve much are those who want knowledge so badly that they seek it while the conditions are still unfavorable. Favorable conditions never come.”
He was right. Favorable conditions never come.










