C.S. Lewis’s The Abolition of Man isn’t just a book—it’s a wake-up call. Written in 1943, during a world torn apart by war and shifting moral foundations, Lewis confronts the rising tide of moral relativism that seeks to dismantle objective truth. His message? When society abandons universal values rooted in divine order, it doesn’t just lose its way—it destroys its soul. For conservative Christians, especially those committed to the sanctity of life and the authority of Scripture, this book isn’t merely relevant. It’s urgent. Lewis doesn’t just argue for moral absolutes; he exposes the catastrophic consequences of rejecting them. Let’s be clear: if you care about preserving a culture that honors God’s design, this book is a weapon you need in your hands.
Lewis structures his case around what he calls the Tao—the universal moral law recognized across civilizations and, critically, affirmed by Christian revelation. He dissects modern systems that reduce morality to subjective feelings, warning that this breeds a generation incapable of recognizing good and evil. Take his critique of textbook authors who dismiss objective values as mere “sentiment.” Lewis fires back: strip away the Tao, and you don’t liberate humanity—you reduce it. Without a shared moral compass, power becomes the only currency, and those who control definitions of “progress” will remake mankind in their own image. Sound familiar? Today’s battles over life, family, and religious freedom are proof. When we sever ethics from divine truth, we don’t elevate man—we abolish him.
What makes Lewis’s argument devastating is his logic. He doesn’t just appeal to tradition or emotion. He lays bare the contradictions of moral subjectivism. If values are arbitrary, why condemn oppression or injustice? Why fight for the unborn if life’s worth hinges on personal opinion? Lewis forces readers to confront the endpoint of relativism: a world where might makes right, where the vulnerable are disposable. For pro-life Christians, this isn’t abstract. It’s the reality we’re fighting—a culture that devalues the imago Dei in every human. Lewis’s defense of objective morality isn’t philosophical gymnastics. It’s the bedrock of our mission.
But here’s where Lewis goes further: he ties the survival of virtue to humility before God. Rejecting the Tao isn’t just intellectual arrogance—it’s rebellion. Modernity’s obsession with “man’s conquest of nature” becomes, in Lewis’s lens, a rebellion against the Creator. Want to see where that leads? Look at the 20th century’s horrors—genocide, eugenics, abortion mills—all justified by ideologies unmoored from divine law. Lewis’s warning isn’t subtle: when man tries to play God, he doesn’t evolve. He devolves.
Reading this book felt like someone had put a mirror to our times. Every page shouted echoes of today’s crises: courts redefining marriage, governments mandating moral compromise and indoctrinating children against biblical truths. Lewis’s critique of “men without chests”—people stripped of noble instincts—explains why our culture mocks courage and celebrates depravity. Weakness is called strength; perversion, pride. But Lewis doesn’t leave us despairing. He points back to the Tao, to the “way” that aligns with God’s eternal character. For Christians, this isn’t a vague ideal—it’s the person of Christ, the Logos made flesh.
Some might find Lewis’s academic tone challenging, but that is to be expected from a man of considerable intellect. He demands careful thought, refusing to dumb down truth for a soundbite world. Yet his clarity is unmatched. Every argument builds like a fortress, brick by brick, leaving no crevice for relativism to hide. You won’t find Scripture quoted here, but you’ll feel its shadow on every page. Lewis knew that the Tao finds its fullest expression in Christianity—that’s why, after reading this, your next step must be the Bible. Only there do we meet the Author of the moral law, the One who offers not just principles but redemption.
Let’s cut to the heart: we’re losing this generation. Not because we’ve lost arguments, but because we’ve forgotten how to defend the foundation beneath them. Lewis reminds us that without God, there’s no good, no evil—only power. So here’s the challenge: read The Abolition of Man. Let it steel your resolve. Then open your Bible. Dive into the Psalms, the Gospels, Paul’s letters. See how Christ fulfills every thread of the Tao. Pray for revival. Fight for the unborn. Stand unashamed. Because if we don’t, who will?
Salvation isn’t earned by works—it’s by grace through faith. But faith without fruit is dead. Lewis’s book is fruit. It equips us to defend the truth in a world starving for it. So read it. Share it. Then live it. The stakes? Nothing less than the soul of our civilization.
