Every year Time magazine publishes its list of the world’s one hundred most influential people.(1) Of these “influencers” the magazine’s editorial staff groups them into categories of influence—from leaders and revolutionaries to builders and titans, from artists and entertainers to heroes and icons, scientists and thinkers. Interestingly enough, the magazine even includes those whose influence is deemed wholly negative. Past and present ‘honorees’ included Bernard Madoff, who stole a reported sixty billion dollars from investors and bankrupted many charitable organizations; Joaquin Guzman, the Mexican druglord behind the horrific violence that has claimed well-over fifteen thousand lives in his home country and abroad; and Abubakar Shekau, the leader of Boko Haram that has killed ten thousand people in Nigeria and neighboring countries.(2)

Defining influence seems a tricky business and the editors of Time admit this: “What is influence and how can we possibly compare the influence of an underworld druglord, for example, with a heroic 21 year old soldier who saved his company of Marines while he almost bled to death?”(3) The etymology of the word gives us some understanding of its use and of this kind of comparison. Originally, the word was used as an astrological term, denoting “streaming ethereal power from the stars acting upon the character or destiny of men.”(4) Ultimately, influence is a force or substance flowing from someone or something, which moves the heart or actions of someone else—whether for good or for evil.

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In the C.S. Lewis novel Till We Have Faces, the main character, Orual, has taken mental notes throughout her life, carefully building what she refers to as her “case” against the gods. Choosing finally to put this case formally in writing, she meticulously describes each instance where she has been wronged. It is only after Orual has finished writing that she soberly recognizes her great mistake. With a sobering blow of recognition, she sees the importance of uttering the speech at the center of one’s soul, for to have heard herself making the complaint was to be answered. She then profoundly observes that the gods used her own pen to probe the wounds. With sharpened insight Orual explains, “Till the words can be dug out of us, why should [the gods] hear the babble that we think we mean? How can they meet us face to face until we have faces?”(1)

Never since has a book cut open my heart and laid it before me so plainly. It was simultaneously the moment I realized how distant I had become from God and the sudden suspicion: What if God had been near all along? I had spent a lifetime subconsciously compiling my case against this God. Through more turbulent years en route to faith and belief in Christ, I stood armed with my diary of questions, taking more a stance of interrogator than glad follower. Some of my questions were milder interrogations than others; in fact, some even embodied the possibility of exoneration. But the telling detail in this perspective was that I saw myself as the one holding the judge’s gavel, while God was the one on trial.

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