I finally found the book I was looking for. After encountering, for the first time, writings by J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis in 1985, I undertook a quest that has lasted twenty years, until 2005, to fully comprehend the idea of Joy (with a capital J). My whole life has been a journey to fully understand what this idea meant, which was not easy, and what it would mean for my life. Piece by piece, over the years, I tried to assemble what thread wove itself through the most meaningful experiences that happened to me. Even after I knew, I couldn't explain what I had discovered. This most important book, HEAVEN: The Heart's Deepest Longing (Ignatius Press, 1989), is the final missing piece. All I can do is refer anyone who is interested in understanding what life is about to this book. I can't say this is the best book ever, because I don't know what will be written in the future and I have (unlike C.S. Lewis) read only a tiny number of those which have been written so far (and even the existence of this book was veiled from me for a long time), but, for what it's worth, the book presents the most clear and important explanation for all the questions I've had about the meaning of life. If I had to choose a book to keep besides the Bible and Lord of the Rings, it would probably be this one.

The concept of Joy comes from C.S. Lewis, never fully articulated it in his writings, much like Plato before him never fully articulated the idea of Forms in his own writings. Lewis took the idea of Forms, and built his central contribution to the intellectual world: the idea of Joy. To explain Joy fully took someone else reflecting on the idea from a wider background. This was Dr. Peter Kreeft, a philosophy professor at Boston College. Philosophy has taken a strange turn when a Thomist (someone who follows the teachings of St. Thomas Aquinas, and Aristotle) is the one to explain the thought of C. S. Lewis (a Platonic thinker). But Kreeft has done a superlative job and has written the definitive book. One I despaired of ever finding, and certainly despaired of articulating myself. Kreeft has pulled the loose ends together and write the essence of what needs to be said in a clear, articulate way.

I have always wanted to explain what Joy meant in some way, but never really have. My life has been a gradual unfolding of experiences of Joy, and a return to their source. My most early memories are creating high, arching stories that soared far beyond their humble sparks of imagination. The stuffed animals. As a preschooler, having cupcake ornaments, a rabbit and a squirrel, which became a mythos of exploration and adventure; Christmas ornaments which became two kingdoms; and the Halloween poster which became a whole world inside my mind. As a small child, looking up at the impossibly high ceiling of the church, unable to explain the highest feelings and longings inside me. In Junior High, the books: Island of the Lizard King. Dever and Chalk's Lone Wolf. Tolkien. Lewis. Road to the Middle Islands. Dune. And more. In college, all the special music I was exposed to. After getting out of school, the search to try to find out what all this had in common, which led me through studies of religion and philosophy. But what did it all mean? What did these experiences have in common?

What the book does is explain what life means in light of Joy. Particularly Appendix A, which is hardly an appendix as much as the main point of the book. This is a full treatment of Joy, much like you'd find a full treatment of the Forms in a book about Plato. It pulls together all the isolated glimpses Lewis scattered in his own writings, and ties them together into a whole package. The rest of the book takes this idea and develops it to explain the human condition and the Christian faith.

After finding this book, I am finished. I have had all my questions about life answered, and understand the world I live in as well as any mortal may understand it. There is nothing left under the sun for me to write down, and no way left to express myself. There is no answer I can give for my beliefs that won't simply be a reference to this book. There's nothing else to be said.

Now, at long last, all I have to do to get ready for eternity in heaven is to try to think of a nice way to reply if C.S. Lewis asks me about Til We Have Faces, his masterpiece, which I've tried to read two or three times and still think is unapproachably obscure and boring. Perhaps I can change the subject.