This is my last Divorce post, and you're probably so grateful huh? :)
Lewis and MacDonald are talking again, this time (again) about why angels don't go down to hell to save souls. MacDonald takes a blade of grass, and with it, points out a crack in the dirt that is one of many through which the bus Lewis came in on might have traveled through. Lewis argues that he had seen an infinite abyss, and cliffs, and then this country on top of those cliffs.
MacDonald: Aye. But the voyage was not mere locomotion. That bus, and all you inside it, were increasing in size.
Lewis: Do you mean then that Hell - all that infinite empty town - is down in some little crack like this?
MacDonald: Yes. All Hell is smaller than one pebble of your earthly world: but it is smaller than one atom of this world, the Real World. Look at yon butterfly. If it swallowed all Hell, Hell would not be big enough to do it any harm or to have any taste.
Lewis: It seems big enough when you're in it.
MacDonald: And yet all loneliness, angers, hatreds, envies, and itchings that it contains, if rolled into one single experience and put into the scale against the least moment of joy that is felt by the least in Heaven, would have no weight that could be registered at all. Bad cannot succeed even in being bad as truly as good is good. If all Hell's miseries together entered the consciousness of yon wee yellowbird on the bough there, they would be swallowed up without a trace, as if one drop of ink had been dropped into that Great Ocean to which your terrestrial Pacific itself is only a molecule.
"Only the Greatest of all can make Himself small enough to enter Hell. For the higher a thing is, the lower it can descend."
Think about all the hells you've been through. Could you honestly say that your smallest joy swallows up your greatest pain? I can't say that. Maybe someday? I don't know. But I'm also not in Heaven. I like the idea of it, and I hope it's true. But I definitely don't feel that way now.