The Lord of the Kingdom

Bag End, Hobbiton. April 13, Shire Year, 1418. - Gandalf is continuing his morning briefing of Frodo, having just mentioned the recent rise of the Shadow, his move from Mirkwood to Mordor, and his relentless search for the Ring. The conversation continues:

‘I wish it need not have happened in my time,’ said Frodo.

“‘So do I,’ said Gandalf, ‘and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.’”

Throughout my life I periodically have indulged in wishful-thinking: I have dreamed of having been born a century earlier, or perhaps several hundreds of years before, when the world (in my imagination) was much simpler and more to my liking than these days in which I find myself. Many of us long, I suspect, for days that never really were as we want to believe they were.

But God did not fall asleep on his watch, only to waken and discover that he was late in tossing me into life. I am where I belong. I do not get to choose the state of the church of my time, or the cultural battles that rage, or the theological slide that I perceive.

My - our - only decision is what Gandalf lays out: “what to do with the time that is given us.” Paul said as much, too, exhorting us to be always “making the most of your time, because the days are evil” (Eph 5:15-17). This means I must choose wisely and I must be diligent: I cannot live either in the past or the future; I can only live today and do what I may as long as it is called today.

These days may seem black and dark, but all days are so to those engaged in spiritual warfare. There is glorious light to behold one day, but not yet - not while the Enemy still opposes our King and his purposes. My job is to do as I’m told and not wish it were otherwise.

(Originally posted June 6, Sixth Age, 2006)

Bag End, Hobbiton. April 13, Shire Year, 1418. - It is early in the telling of The Lord of the Rings.

Bilbo’s famous party and sudden disappearance are now seventeen years past and Gandalf, having been ominously absent for a corresponding length of time, has finally returned to The Shire and is enjoying breakfast with Frodo, the unsuspecting steward of the Ring of Power. Over breakfast, Gandalf resumes his telling of a tale begun the previous evening but one he thought best be completed in the clarity of day rather than the blindness of night. His news to Frodo is a brief history of the return of Sauron the Great and his growing power. Disturbed by the wizard’s solemn and dark news, the hobbit remarks,

‘I wish it need not have happened in my time,’ said Frodo.

“‘So do I,’ said Gandalf, ‘and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the the time that is given us.’” - p 51

All of us, certainly, have felt Frodo’s sense of dread and regret. Regardless of our age, there have been things happen that leave us reflecting on why it happened during our lifetime, or perhaps wishing that we lived at some time in the past or future when such horrific things did not occur. Whether it is a tsunami that kills 300,000 people, a war that kills millions, dictatorships that slaughter tens of millions of their own citizens, or the ravages of famine, disease, or any of the various evils we inflict upon one another, there is a sharing of Frodo’s sentiments: we wish it need not have happened in our time.

But such things do happen in our times, even as they occur in the lives of every generation to have lived on this fallen earth during these fallen times. It is inevitable: sin has infected every corner of the earth, every second of the day, every person who takes breath. The image of God within us causes us to wish that it were not so; the acknowledgement of the reality of Sin in and around us compels us to accept that it is so.

There is wisdom, as usual, in Gandalf’s reply to the still-naïve Frodo. The wizard’s wisdom, however, has application beyond the hobbit’s immediate misery.

Frodo is wishing that he would not have to be aware of such perilous times, let alone be called upon to deal with the problems. This is the overall attitude of those who dwell in The Shire: to focus on their own, relatively minor struggles and to remain oblivious to what is going on in the larger world. The Shire, it seems, is not so unlike a vast number of churches that isolate themselves from the tragedy that is life in the world and focus instead on life inside the fortress they have constructed.

But this post is not about the failures or problems of the church; rather, it is about the practical resolution to a couple of unanswerable questions that confront those of us who call ourselves Christians. Specifically, it is about the dilemma of election and human responsibility, about the apparent conflict of God’s eternal purposes and the choices we make during our lives.

If I may be allowed to make specific application of a general biblical truth, “Of the writing of books on election and human responsibility there is no end” (with apologies to Koheleth). Gandalf’s wisdom is a valuable - albeit intellectually unsatisfying and/or unacceptable - guide to such paradoxes. He says, “But that is not for them to decide,” i.e., there are some things that are beyond our ability to determine or even understand.

It should not be surprising to any Christian that there are aspects of God’s nature and character that are incomprehensible to us. Simply because God is at times incomprehensible does not mean that He is contradictory or inconsistent. It merely means that we have not the capacity for comprehending Him whose thoughts are not our thoughts, whose ways are not our ways, and whose ways and thoughts are beyond finding out (Is 55.8-9).

Gandalf’s continued advice - which, I believe, is God’s command to us, too - is simple and practical: “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” It is not for us to spend too much - if any - time trying to figure out why God wants us to do something, how it is that He is not thwarted in His purposes and yet holds us accountable for our choices, and how even our imperfect choices nevertheless accomplish the perfect plan of God.

Our responsibility, as stewards entrusted by God with a temporal and eternal mission, is “decide what to do with the time that is given us.” God does not owe us an explanation before requiring a response; He does not need to justify his ways prior to telling us what to do.

Our speculations regarding why and how God does what He does are just that: speculations. What is beyond speculation is what is required of us: to make choices - choices whether to obey or not - during the time we have to bring about the purposes God has for us and for the world.

It is not for us to know the thoughts and ways of God, but only to decide what to do with the time and opportunity He has entrusted to us. The former are not granted to us; the latter clearly are.

Bag End, Hobbiton. April 13, Shire Year, 1401. - Almost seventeen years after Bilbo’s party and (in)famous disappearance, Gandalf returns to the home of Frodo with news about the Ring in his possession. It is morning in the Shire and the two are engaged in a post-breakfast conversation. Gandalf cautions his dear friend:

A mortal, Frodo, who keeps one of the Great Rings, does not die, but he does not grow or obtain more life, he merely continues, until at last every minute is a weariness. And if he often uses the Ring to make himself invisible, he fades: he becomes in the end invisible permanently, and walks in the twilight under the eye of the dark power that rules the Rings.” - LOTR, p. 47

There are tragic and terrifying illustrations of this truth in Middle-earth. Most apparent, as you know, is Gollum; Bilbo, too, had begun to feel such effects, reflected in his comment to Gandalf: “I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped over too much bread.” Only slightly less obvious but much more revealing are the Ringwraiths: each having possessed one of the nine rings for mortal men, they now exist rather than live. Theirs is a shadowy continuance without hope.

So it is with any who seek to add to themselves by following their own path. They “merely continue” in an existence that is increasing devoid of satisfaction and purpose, or at least lacking any sense of being that is meaningful beyond the moment or to themselves. Such people are haunted deep within by an empty awareness of something missing, a destiny or path out of sight over the horizon or lost in a fog of furious activity and distraction.

It is the image of God in them, of course, that disturbs their soul like an empty stomach grumbling for food.

Christians are not free from following such a course for their lives. Hoping to have more and to expand ourselves, we end up with less and without a sense of self or identity at all. Seeking to possess we become possessed. Common sense tells us that more power means more freedom, but only too late do we realize that it is not common sense but nonsense that directs us.

This is not the same as “losing one’s self” for the glory of God. As we draw nearer in fellowship with God, we are filled with him more than we are emptied of ourselves. Those who seek their own glory and advancement, however, are increasingly empty and never filled.

No one, perhaps, embodies this more than the Mouth of Sauron who meets the Captains of the West at the Black Gate in Mordor. He has no name or has forgotten it; his identity is totally dependent on someone other than himself, a mere extension of his lord and master. His is not a selfless existence but a selfish one, having believed the lie that Sauron will meet his needs and satisfy his desires. But Sauron serves only himself; all his minions serve him as well.

We have a choice who it is that we will serve. Will our Lord be the Savior who alone can save and satisfy? Or will the Enemy pull our strings while we, like blind and foolish puppets, imagine ourselves to have found a better path than the one which is set before us?

Hobbiton. Shire Year, 1389. - Bilbo Baggins was born in 2890 S.R., and remained a bachelor for the entirety of his life. This was all well and good for him but meant, too, that he had no heir, a fact that was not of terribly great import prior to his adventure with the dwarves and the accumulation of a substantial (but not inexhaustible) amount of wealth. Bilbo’s handsome (but comparatively modest) inheritance changed, however, with his successful trip There and Back Again, as recorded in the first section of the Red Book of Westmarch. Upon his return here in 1342, the Sackville-Bagginses came into a position to inherit not only Bag End but whatever remained of Bilbo’s captured treasures. And so they would have, had it not been for an event this year.

It was in this year that Bilbo, now 99 years of age (but looking no more than 50!), called his cousin Frodo Baggins to him and announced that he had chosen to make him the heir to Bag End and all else that Bilbo still possessed. Frodo, himself born not until 1368 S.R., was quite alone when Bilbo summoned him, only a short time having passed since the untimely death of his parents in a tragic, albeit mysterious, boating accident.

To accomplish this transfer of inheritance, Bilbo officially adopted Frodo:

When Bilbo was ninety-nine he adopted Frodo as his heir, and brought him to live at Bag End; and the hopes of the Sackville-Bagginses were finally dashed. Bilbo and Frodo happened to have the same birthday, September 22nd . . . At that time Frodo was still in his tweens, as the hobbits called the irresponsible twenties between childhood and coming of age at thirty-three.” - LOTR, p. 21

To be precise, Frodo was twenty-one years of age when Bilbo adopted him (being thirty-three at Bilbo’s going-away party and fifty when he set off from here to take the Ring to Rivendell).

The Adoptions of Sons

Obviously, Frodo’s adoption as an heir was quite significant and determinative in his life; similarly, the adoption of Christians by the Father is profoundly significant and eternally determinative for us.

Romans, Greeks, and Jews all had rites of passage for their boys that clearly declared them to be adults. For Roman boys, this usually happened during the boys’ late teens; for Greeks, it occurred at the age of eighteen. Jews, however, chose (and some still choose) to conduct a ceremony shortly after the boy’s twelfth birthday that officially made him a “child of the Law” instead of just a child of his parents.

The same ceremony (I think, though it might have been a different one) also marked the official adoption of the son by his father, meaning that he was now a legal heir to his father’s fortunes, whatever those rights and riches might be. This privilege is behind Frodo’s adoption, of course, but also behind Paul’s teaching to the Galatians:

Now I say, as long as the heir is a child, he does not differ at all from a slave although he is owner of everything . . .

“Therefore you are no longer a slave, but a son; and if a son, then an heir through God.” - Gal 4.1, 7 (NASB)

Paul explains that, before we were adopted by God as sons (for only sons normally inherited in that time), we were “excluded from the commonwealth of Israel” and “strangers to the covenants of promise” (Eph 2.12). Because of God the Father’s adoption of us, however, this is no longer true: now “you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints, and are of God’s household” (Eph 2.19).

To the Romans he wrote,

The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, heirs also, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ.” - Rom 8.16-17a

Free from our slavery to sin, impurity, and elemental things, we are now heirs with Christ of all that God has prepared and provided for us. Our adoption as sons is a glorious and rich aspect of the Good News that was made possible by Jesus Christ our Lord.

Like Frodo, we may travel a difficult and perilous path as a result of our inheritance but - also like Frodo - we will one day pass from this path to the Undying Lands and our heavenly rewards.

[Note: This post originally appeared on May 3, 2006.]

Hobbiton. Shire Year, 1401. - Before beginning the tale of the War of the Ring, as chronicled in The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien presents his readers with a Prologue that introduces Middle-earth to those who perhaps have not read The Hobbit. So rich is the Prologue that even those who have read and re-read the latter find a wealth of information and background concerning pipe-weed, the ordering of the Shire, the finding of the One Ring, and - most importantly - of hobbits themselves.

In the telling of the history and prosperity of hobbits, Tolkien provides the following information and insight into this seemingly insignificant people. After he records how the hobbits first came to the land west of the Brandywine River, he goes on to note: (more…)

Hobbiton. Shire Year, 1401. - Even as the Creator is revealed in His creation, so too is the subcreator reflected in his subcreation. Much can be learned of mankind by spending time with that and those which we have conceived and affected. No single being, action, or artifact will inform us totally of ourselves but every individual person or thing tells us something. Of hobbits, in particular, this is certainly true.

Hobbits are an unobtrusive but very ancient people, more numerous formerly than they are today; for they love peace and quiet and good tilled earth: a well-ordered and well-farmed countryside was their favourite haunt. They do not and did not understand or like machines more complicated than a forge-bellows, a water-mill, or a hand-loom, though they were skilful with tools. . . .

“Though slow to quarrel, and for sport killing nothing that lived, they were doughty at bay, and at need could still handle arms.”

There is much to be admired about the character and nature of hobbits, although there is admittedly some things not so deserving of praise. There are clearly attributes that reflect how believers should and (in some cases) do exist; in this capacity they serve as a telescope through which we may garner a glimpse of what God desires for us. There are also those qualities and mannerisms of our hobbitic relatives that are more in keeping with manifestations of our fallen nature; this perspective provides us with a mirror in which we can see our own flaws and failings.

Hobbits “love peace and quiet and good tilled earth, thereby fulfilling Paul’s admonition to the Thessalonians: (more…)

Avallónnë. First Age. - Tales should begin at the beginning if ever they are to have an end, and so too must this account of my own time with the Maia Tolkien and our time in Middle-earth begin. But, while the accounts recorded here are true, the impressions and reflections birthed by them are not necessarily so, for while I (being a Firstborn) confess to having a great interest in those called Secondborn, I nevertheless make no claim to infallibility with regards to them.

This tale grew in the telling, until it became a history of the Great War of the Ring and included many glimpses of the yet more ancient history that preceded it. It was begun soon after The Hobbit was written and before its publication in 1937; but I did not go on with this sequel, for I wished first to complete and set in order the mythology and legends of the Elder Days, which had then been taking shape for some years.”

So did Tolkien begin his notation upon his subcreation. It is not without significance that in bringing the lost history of Middle-earth to light that he would begin with a wordless thought, which then became a creative word. This is how all things came into being, whether created or subcreated: the thought was first in the Mind of God (He whom we call Eru and Illúvatar) and He spoke into existence the sum of all Creation (Ëa, the Universe; Arda, the world). Though Tolkien did labor to bring his subcreation to life, not so with God, for He needed only to think the thought and say the word and all that is then came to be.

So it is with all subcreations: it begins with a thought - for good or ill - and is manifested through intent. God has granted to His children, the Firstborn Elves and Secondborn Men alike, to share in His creativity.

Lest we fall into the error of Fëanor, however, we must take care to prevent that which we devise to be corrupted by our own bent natures. Elves and Men alike are subject to roaming wills and faithless desires, forgetting our First Love and pursuing that which cannot satisfy in the end.

All subcreations, whether physical or mental, must be a means of worshiping and glorifying God, and never the foci of our worship and devotion themselves. It is for Him alone that we have been created and only in Him alone that we will find our final destiny and joy.