Eternal Perspectives

It is a remarkable, insightful statement from the mind of God as inscripturated through the pen of Paul, a word of truth that we – I speak as to Christians – seem to forget to remember far too often. That to which I refer is Eph 6.12:

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. – (NASB)

God grants us insight on at least three levels in this message from Paul. First, of course, is that it is necessary for us to be strong and fully armed, ready to do battle against the enemies of God (Eph 6.10-18). This need to be clothed in spiritual battle attire makes clear that, apart from His provision of armor and a double-edged sword of truth, we are ill-equipped to engage in the unseen battle that is raging all around us. We are as one who brings a knife to a gun fight: we will be quickly overwhelmed and enslaved if we engage the enemy with our own weapons while relying on our own defenses.

Second, and just as obvious, is that the battle is a spiritual and not a physical one. It is not against people that we struggle but against the powers and principalities that motivate and direct the actions and attitudes of those who oppose the purposes of God. Slaves to sin and under the power of the evil one, men and women around the world carry out the plans of Satan. There is a spiritual, unseen war currently being waged all about us, of which we are generally forgetful.

The third thing we learn here – albeit we learn it implicitly* – is that those people who are slaves to sin and in the service of the enemy of God have no idea that they are serving evil in general and the achieving the purposes of Satan in particular. Such people are blind to the glory of God in Christ, unable to see the truth of the gospel, and without choice to serve sin. Even when their behavior is correct, their motivations are wrong. They are as ignorant of and as unresponsive to the purposes and will of God as a corpse is unaware of those looking at it in a funeral home. These people are literally the walking dead, cut off from the life that is in Christ Jesus.

That we forget the truth of Eph 6.12 is obvious when we become upset with those who oppose our own Christian agendas for our country and the world. It should not surprise us, however, to find the unbelieving world fighting against us: they are slaves to the enemy and the enemy is arrayed against God’s children. Or, to put it another way, they are “vessels of wrath fitted for destruction” that serve to glorify God through their contrast to us – hopefully (Rom 9.22-23).

These opponents of Christ need to be opposed by us, but we must remember that they are not willing or knowing warriors in the spiritual battle that is going on. We would do well, too, to remind ourselves of Eph 2.1-3:

And you were dead in your trespasses and sins, in which you formerly walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, of the spirit that is now working in the sons of disobedience. Among them we too all formerly lived in the lusts of our flesh, indulging the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest.”

It may be somewhat easier for me to keep this in mind: I did not become a Christian until I was almost 25. I remember my opposition to God and the people of God, as well as my motivation: I truly believed that what I was proposing was not only a better way but more realistic and true.

I was blind, but now I see. But I remember what being blind is like. It was the love and compassion of others, not the power of their soporific, sophomoric** arguments that brought me to a point of repentance. Love and prayer, not logic and debate, are the most powerful evangelistic tools.

It is said that, prior to conversion, all a person experiences of God is an impending sense of judgment and wrath; only after salvation are they capable of knowing His love. It is also said that, for most people, the only Bible they’ll ever “read” is what they behold in the life of a Christian.

We would do better to show them the firmness and gentleness of God rather than display our own indignation and condescension. After all, they are just doing the best they can do with an unenlightened mind.

* When I come to a realization about something that’s not directly taught in the text, I refer to it as implicit teaching; if you do it, it’s eisogesis. Ah, the advantages of self-serving vocabulary!

** I was going to write “vapid and vacuous,” but that seemed too, well, you know, ostentatious.

In the beginning the Word already existed. He was with God, and he was God. He was in the beginning with God.

“He created everything there is. Nothing exists that he didn’t make.

“Life itself was in him, and this life gives light to everyone. The light shines through the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it. God sent John the Baptist to tell everyone about the light so that everyone might believe because of his testimony. John himself was not the light; he was only a witness to the light. The one who is the true light, who gives light to everyone, was going to come into the world.

“But although the world was made through him, the world didn’t recognize him when he came. Even in his own land and among his own people, he was not accepted. But to all who believed him and accepted him, he gave the right to become children of God. They are reborn! This is not a physical birth resulting from human passion or plan—this rebirth comes from God.

“So the Word became human and lived here on earth among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness. And we have seen his glory, the glory of the only Son of the Father.

“No one has ever seen God. But his only Son, who is himself God, is near to the Father’s heart; he has told us about him.” - Jn 1.1-14 (NLT)

The one who existed from the beginning is the one we have heard and seen. We saw him with our own eyes and touched him with our own hands. He is Jesus Christ, the Word of life. This one who is life from God was shown to us, and we have seen him. And now we testify and announce to you that he is the one who is eternal life. He was with the Father, and then he was shown to us. We are telling you about what we ourselves have actually seen and heard, so that you may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ.” – 1 Jn 1.1-3 (NLT)

Since Aug 19th of this year, I have been an emotional outsider among Godbloggers. I have wandered and read widely, commented infrequently, but for the most part remained an interested but quiet onlooker. My own posts have been few, especially since the death of my mother in early October.

Now, as I begin to re-enter the community of online believers, I thought I would pass along some observations and realizations that have come to me during my brief (all-too-brief, some might suggest) hiatus or sabbatical. I have no one particular in mind – for the most part – as I comment; many of the conclusions apply to me as well. When the latter is the case, the heading is bold and italicized; where I do not see myself, the heading is simply bold. Feel free to suggest my inclusion in other categories, even as I will feel free to totally ignore your input.

Here, then, in no particular order, are some of the things I’ve learned and concluded over the past five months or so of “lurking, sneaking, and spying” on y’all.

Doctrinal Divisiveness: So many people seem to be far too interested in distancing themselves from others by focusing on the issues and doctrines that divide us rather than accepting the differences and enjoying the diversity in the cyber-Body of Christ. This seems to be more prevelant among Reformed and charismatic bloggers, although in neither case do these island-dwellers constitute the majority. You’re Reformed and I’m not (at least by your definition); you’re charismatic and I’m not: so what? If you want to explain why you believe what you believe, defending it exegetically or at least theologically, I’ll read it happily. If you just want to make dogmatic statements and attack those who disagree, shut up: by keeping your mouth shut, we won’t know that you’re a fool.

It should go without saying that I refer only to non-essential articles of our common faith: it should go without saying but, given the pugnacious nature of some militant jihadists, I have to dumb down to rule out ridiculous comments and accusations.

Sports, Politics, & Hollywood: From an eternal perspective, does it really matter who wins the World Series, what politician D said about politician R, or who’s having whose baby? Now, if any of these topics are tied to a biblical principle or text and used to illustrate a point, that’s great; far too often, however, some blogs are little more than sport, political, or entertainment gossip columns. Sports and entertainment are diversions, drawing our attention away from more important things. Politics, on the other hand, are near-idols for some people: they seem to have more hope and faith in a Republican candidate than they do in the God who controls history. We are told to pray for those in authority over us, not to attempt to disparage or demean them. I’ve lived long enough to know that this country goes in cycles or, if you prefer, that it swings like a pendulum. Relax. Pray. Work on being a citizen of the Kingdom first and foremost. Christianity does not depend on the United States for its survival or well-being – although the converse is certainly true.

Confession vs. Catharsis: There is a difference between confessing a wrong-doing and spilling your guts just for the sake of feeling better for having said something. Note the italics: I have been guilty of this in the past. Confession is biblical and necessary for growth; catharsis is whining with no intent of changing. I’ll listen to confessions but I’d just as soon not have someone vomit their emotional bile all over me. If you’re struggling, that’s fine: I’ll listen and try to encourage. If all you’re doing is complaining about how miserably life and God have treated you and how underappreciated and misunderstood you are, then (a) do something about it or (b) get over yourself. Don’t expect me to join your pity party: I can throw one for myself just fine and don’t need to attend yours.

Psychology Drives Theology: Long ago I heard Bill Gothard say (when he wasn’t idolizing mommy and daddy) that “your morality determines your theology.” Sounds profound, but I don’t think it’s true. What is closer to the truth – although I wouldn’t die on this hill – is that your psychology influences and chooses your theology more than you might realize. Are you narcissistic? Then a church that trumpets and reveres your knowledge and wisdom – even to the point of allowing you to pass judgment on the Bible – is likely where you’ll wind up. Insecure and rigid? Find a church that nails everything down and leaves no room for antinomies or mystery. Flamboyant and histrionic? Join a church where being out-of-control is evidence of spirituality. Psychology-driven theology is apparent when people are a little too passionate about one or more of the non-essentials of our faith. It is not that their response is necessarily inappropriate; it is that their response is inordinate: questioning cessationism and continuationism evoke more passion than the Deity of Christ or the infallibility of the Bible. Something’s going on there and it’s not about theology.

Polemics: This is related to doctrinal divisiveness but gets a separate heading simply because I want to give it one. There is a strong tendency on the part of some to become more and more extreme as their views are questioned or challenged. Sadly, the exchange often devolves into a two-way street: both parties become more and more radical in their positions and wind up defending things that are perhaps logical but not biblical. Emotions overwhelm the debate and the platform – originally intended to be used for an edifying exchange of information – is transformed into an octagon of ultimate fighting.

Narcissistic Posts: Or, in some cases, narcissistic blogs. It’s all about me and what I think and feel and endure and suffer. Other people’s problems are insignificant compared to mine. People lost everything in a hurricane? Yeah, well, I don’t like my job and that’s all I want to talk about or focus on right now. Someone has said nasty or untrue things about me? Well, I’m coming after them with guns blazing. Ready! Fire! Aim! I am above reproach, not to be questioned, never to be confronted. Agree or pay the price. When I die, surely all wisdom will die with me.

Democracy Is Dangerous, Especially with Blogs: Bill Gnade, quoting Prof. Demos, wrote:

According to Plato there is a true right and wrong, which is a universal principle for all times . . . He objected to democracy, because a democratic society has no standards; the test is merely self-expression. The democratic life is one without a pattern, in which every desire is gratified because it is there, not because it is right.”

Mr. Gnade goes on to argue – rightly – that democracy leads many to believe that their own opinion is as valuable and viable as any one else’s, despite how ignorant, untrained, or inexperienced the original blogger might be. It is evident when, for example, someone theologically and psychologically trained (like me) takes it upon himself to pontificate about the nuances and problems with the Christian music industry. I know nothing about Christian music – I don’t buy it, listen to it, or even like 99% of it – but in my democratic dementia, I think my opinion should be valued just as much as someone who has been in the industry for years and years. This is not just stupidity; this is hubris. I need to defer to the experts and learn for a long time before believing I have something to say. Ask questions? Sure. Make declarative statements? Zip it.

Good People Are Among Us: This is one of the wonderful things I discovered as I wrestled through my difficult period. Some good men and women stuck by me, encouraged me, and prayed for me – even though I’ve met none of them face-to-face. These are people of integrity, whose word means something, and who understands love and patience. “Many a person proclaims their own loyalty,” Solomon said, “but a trustworthy person, who can find?” I found more than a few: Tim, Milton, Matt, William, Rey, Funky, and many other women and men who left comments and sent emails encouraging me during this time. When you’re deep in a hole, it’s nice to hear voices of people at the top calling down to you, letting you know you’ve not been forgotten.

Struggling is not leprosy, although in our sanitized churches we tend to treat it as such at times. Doubts can be contagious, it must be admitted, but it is better to go through them with someone rather than face them alone or abandon someone else until they’re “over it.”

Nice but not Necessary: I enjoy blogging most of the time and enjoy reading much of what others have to say. I’ve learned that some of the popular, controversial blogs hurt my relationship with God more than they help, so I’ve deleted them from my reading list. Plus, it makes it very hard to love my brothers in Christ when they act like spoiled brats.

Most importantly, though, I’ve learned that blogs and blogging are nice but not necessary. I really didn’t miss it when I stopped; I’m starting again only because of a sense of “calling” (although I don’t believe in “callings” as popularly imagined). If it all shut down tomorrow, that would be OK. I lived 55 years without blogs, the church survived c. 2K years without them, and I’m sure God can accomplish His purposes with or without blogs.

So I’ll enjoy it when I can, ignore it when I need to, and try to keep the whole thing in perspective. Maybe it will go better for me if I approach it in this way.

Apparently, something I wrote in my last post has led a few people to believe that I am on the verge of regular blogging once again. I fear such reports may be a tad premature. One observation, offered by William Meisheid at Beyond the Rim, states:

As I expected, Mike Russell at Eternal Perspectives has started to come out of the other side of his journey through the “Dark Night of the Soul”. There are only two branches on that road and Mike did not disappear into hopelessness, no matter how close he may have felt he was to the edge of the cliff.

William is at once correct and incorrect in what he says here. The purpose of this post is to explain, if anyone is particularly interested, where I am and where I’ve been, as well as to speculate on where I might be journeying next.

Allow me to begin the middle and work both ways. I am, I suppose, standing at a fork in that path which has been and is my life. The operant word is “standing,” for though I know which path I will not take, I do not know how to – or why I should – traverse the other. I stand now with both feet firmly planted in mid-air.

How I Got Here

I became a Christian just over 31 years ago (Dec 10, 1974) shortly before my 25th birthday (Dec 29). As I have detailed in my testimony (a link to which may be found elsewhere on this page), in my infinite wisdom of a 21-year-old, I had given up on finding anything worth committing myself to and had chosen a life of hedonism and nihilism. There is pleasure in sin for a season, of course, and I thoroughly enjoyed my “wanton and riotous” lifestyle for more than five years. God, however, pursued me in His typically relentless style and brought me to the point of clearly seeing both my need for and the salvation He freely offered. From my human perspective, I chose to believe; from His perspective, He chose for me to believe. Both are equally true.

For whatever reasons, I became deeply committed to the local church. This was somewhat peculiar, since I chose – or did God elect me? – to become a dispensationalist, a group notoriously negligent of the local church at times due to its eschatological, blind devotion to the invisible, universal Church, the Body of Christ. My decisions to get first a Masters Degree and then a Doctor of Ministry were motivated by my desire to serve the local church more effectively. I prepared, prayed, and made myself available for vocational ministry.

More than 30 years later, I have come to realize that my hopes and dreams of being on staff at a church were and are just vapors, the vain imaginings of my own mind. I was never sought nor desired by any church to be on staff, although some dangled a carrot on a stick before my face to keep my illusory hopes alive. With 56 just a week or so away, I have finally come to accept the fact that a staff position is not in the works for me.

The sense of lostness which has resulted from this realization has been overwhelming and utterly unforseen by me. Beyond the bounds of my family, the passion of my life has been to serve the church and the people of the church as effectively as possible. I do corrective work as a counselor, but I have always desired to do preventative work: the lack of discipleship and dearth of leadership have pained me. The phone never rang, however, and the call to fulltime ministry never materialized.

Where I Am

I continue to stand at the fork in the road because I have no motivation to go down either of the paths before me. I am not going to turn away from Christ and renounce that which I know to be true; I will not betray my friends, children, wife, or Savior by doing something so stupid. I continue to believe all that I have ever believed about God, salvation in Christ Jesus, eternal life, the resurrection, judgment, and a multitude of other biblical teachings.

The other path, though, does not appeal to me. It is a path that continues in the same direction that I have been moving for three decades: working as a counselor, going to church, being involved in ministry (as I was in the past), and building up the local body of believers – as well as any who might stumble upon this blog. I know it is a good path and a right path: I just don’t have the heart to take one step in that direction. I don’t want it to be and do not believe it to be my path.

The loss of passion – or “Fire in the Belly,” to use Keen’s title – leaves me flat. Some might say that I made the local church an idol and am now paying the price; my reply is that anyone who thinks that is an idiot. My desire to serve has grown out of my singular ambition as a Christian: to know God better tomorrow than I know Him today. My seeking of Him results in and produces the passion for the church – or so I thought. It would be more accurate to say that I limited God in the areas He might use me. Perhaps He does not want me ministering in and through the church; clearly He has not desired that for 31 years.

I have been helped – but not yet rescued – in my wrestling with life by a variety of sources. Chief among those sources has been J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings and many of the books and articles written about him and his sub-creation of Middle-earth. I have watched the movie (it is a singular movie: only at the close of “The Return of the King” does it say “The End”), listened several times to the 13-hour BBC adaptation of the book on cd, and am re-reading the myth for the third or fourth time.

The writings of others about Tolkien’s classic have been immensely helpful, as well. The first ray of hope came from Amanda of Wittingshire, who chose for her Nov 12th poem a prophecy about Aragorn:

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.”

–JRR Tolkien (1892-1973)

The first two lines encouraged me; the next two challenged me; the final four did not apply to me at all. It was to mark the beginning, however, of my climb out of the deep grave where my hopes of church ministry were recently buried. I am indebted to her for her choice of poems that Sunday.

I then began re-reading books about The Lord of the Rings, noticing things I had overlooked previously and being reminded of important insights I had forgotten. I skimmed Mark Eddy Smith’s Tolkien’s Ordinary Virtues, which discusses such values as generosity, simplicity, friendship, faith, community, atonement, wisdom, stewardship, perseverance, and love. I next turned to J.R.R. Tolkien’s Sanctifying Myth by Bradley Birzer. He reminded me that

Undoubtedly, Sam would rather stay at home and garden and farm than walk into the heart of Hell itself. But God has a different task for him, and Sam accepts his duty, as all good men do.” – p. 73

Of greater import and impact were books by Ralph Wood and Matthew Dickerson: The Gospel According to Tolkien and Following Gandalf, respectively. Remarking on Sam’s hard-earned wisdom, Wood writes:

On the one hand, the tales that do not matter concern there-and-back again adventures – escapades undertaken because we are bored and thus seek excitement and entertainment. The tales that rivet the mind, on the other hand, involve a Quest that we do not choose for ourselves. Instead, we find ourselves embarked upon a journey or mission quite apart from our choosing. What counts, says Sam, is not whether the Quest succeeds but whether we turn back or slog ahead. One reason for not giving up, not quitting, is that the great tales are told about those who refused to surrender – those who ventured forward in hope.”

Dickerson, however, resonates with me most deeply. His focus on and elaboration of a simple statement of Aragorn’s has confronted me with the realization that I must do something and not nothing:

If there is one character in whom, and for whom, the importance and difficulty of choice is captured, it is Aragorn. When Éomer first meets Aragorn, he senses something deep and noble about this stranger to Rohan. ‘What doom do you bring out of the North?’ he asks. ‘The doom of choice’ answers Aragorn (TT, p. 36). In other words, when Aragorn answers, ‘The doom of choice,’ he is really answering, ‘freedom’; freedom is his fate, his destiny, his punishment. Though only four words long, that answer is truly one of those sentences that – like the proverbial picture – is worth a thousand words. Many different understandings are layered there. Even the word doom is loaded. In its Anglo-Saxon roots, it refers simply to a law. Yet it can also connote a judgment or sentence passed down, a destiny or fate laid upon one, or some terrible thing waiting to happen. It is also one of the root words of freedom, or ‘free-doom’: the state in which one’s doom, or destiny, is free for one to choose.

“At one level, then, Tolkien is making a statement about all the race of Men: Choice is our doom. Not only are we free and able to choose, it is our destiny as beings of free will that we must make choices – and then live with the consequences of those choices!”

In short, Dickerson instructs me that I cannot linger too long at this fork in the path. I must make a choice and I will not only endure the consequences of the choice, but I am responsible before God to choose wisely.

Serendipitously, I came upon a series of posts – “Lord of the Vocations” – at Kelly’s Blog, a blog whose simple name conceals considerable depth and insight. (The posts, in order, may be found by the following links: I, II, III, IV, IVb, V.) Kelly explains,

A vocation is a ‘calling’– a job that each one of us has been given to do in service to our neighbors. Tolkien emphasizes the fact that vocations are not chosen; rather, they are given to us . . .” – Lord of the Vocations Part II

“Sam is to be admired because when it comes to his calling, he sees it through. As the first vocation post noted, it’s often the long waiting and the daily drudgery that are our crosses to bear in our individual vocations; the temptation is to take the easy way out and do our own thing rather than to wait patiently.” – Lord of the Vocations Part IVb

What has frozen me in my steps until yesterday has been the question of vocation: I had always hoped, planned, and forseen my vocation or calling in the context of fulltime ministry in a local church. But that has not been my doom nor my calling. There is a vocation that predates my affair with the church; indeed, it was present in my life prior to my salvation. From my teen years onward there has been one constant in my life that, although at times neglected, has remained.

I have always been a writer.

Even before spending more than a decade as a writer for a daily newspaper, I was writing letters, stories, allegories, and poems to whatever audience would read them. My writing has generally been well-received and validated (I won a state Associated Press award); more importantly, I have always loved to write. I have studied writing and communication for almost forty years, seeking to discover effective ways to evoke visceral responses while engaging cognitive capacities.

Although the possibility of me earning a living by writing is virtually non-existent, it is my calling and vocation. It is to that calling that I must return.

There remains a problem, however, and it is no small obstacle. I have yet to ignite or have ignited the burning desire to share with others what I consider to be of value and significance. I do not know all the reasons why, but at least one roadblock has shown its face: I have grown weary of the criticisms of dullards and small-minded people who would reduce God and our common faith to a lock-step, stay-safe lifestyle. I consider such people to be fools in the proverbial sense:

Pr 12:15 The way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but a wise man is he who listens to counsel.

Pr 17:10 A rebuke goes deeper into one who has understanding than a hundred blows into a fool.

Pr 18:2 A fool does not delight in understanding, but only in revealing his own mind.

Pr 19:1 Better is a poor man who walks in his integrity than he who is perverse in speech and is a fool.

Pr 20:3 Keeping away from strife is an honor for a man, but any fool will quarrel.

Pr 23:9 Do not speak in the hearing of a fool, for he will despise the wisdom of your words.

Pr 29:9 When a wise man has a controversy with a foolish man, the foolish man either rages or laughs, and there is no rest.

Such people make me tired. I will not interact with them anymore; if they leave just one foolish comment regarding a post, I’ll block them permanently. I’ve grown intolerant; I’ve grown to value my time.

I find the creativity and beauty of God all around me, in the works of the saved and the unsaved alike. I refuse to be a bumper-sticker Christian, i.e., one whose every conversation or communication must draw attention to the fact that I am a believer in Jesus Christ. My automobile bears a plastic fish: it is inside, near the gearshift. I need to be reminded who I am; if others can’t see it in my behavior and life, then a bumper sticker isn’t going to make them repent and trust Christ as Savior.

I suppose I could motivate myself to write by railing against the church and the ubiquitous dolts who seek to paralyze it, but I don’t want to write out of anger or condescension. I must wait until it is a love for others that stirs my heart and mind, calling me back to my calling.

In closing, I will admit to this much: I have begun to design a second blog that will be devoted to timeless truths and principles as expressed in a certain context. When the time comes, I will continue to utilize this blog to voice confessions, commentaries, or whatever else would not belong at the other site.

Thank you for bearing this inordinately and uncharacteristically long post. The good news – for me, at least – is that I am beginning to feel the need to write once again.

By employing the word “emerging,” I’m referring to me, not any church or movement.

Into whatever hole I had fallen over the last several months, starting back in August with the post Losing My Way and then having my descent exacerbated or accelerated by my mother’s death in October, I’m believe I am at last free from both the fall and the abyss. Not surprisingly, I don’t seem to be altogether the same person that fell into the hole.

In a later post, I had likened my situation to that of Gandalf who, in battle with a balrog, fell into Khazad-Dûm, a seemingly bottomless darkness. I was not comparing myself to Gandalf – he is, after all, an angelic figure in The Lord of the Rings – but was rather identifying with the sense of falling into a deep, dark spaceless and timeless void. But, even as Gandalf emerged, so I now think that I have come out of the feelings of hopelessness and despair that pulled me down so deeply.

Gandalf emerged as Gandalf the White, the head of his order, more powerful than previously. I certainly have not fared so well: I’m hardly angelic these days; but then, that is no different than previously. The truth is, I am not totally convinced to whom I might liken myself these days.

There is much about me, I am told, that reminds people of Aragorn. It is a flattering comparison, no doubt, and one that I supposed I chased after for a long time: the unrecognized one who would some day be revealed and granted the opportunity to serve in a position of high responsibility and privilege. Unlike Aragorn in the movie – but much like him in the book and cds – I had few doubts about my destiny, purpose, and ability. It was something I sought and for which I believed myself to be prepared and equipped.

I sought it in vain, as has been shown by my history, which does not lie; I sought it vainly as well, perhaps, which might explain the history. But who among us can claim to have an ego so pure that it does not seek recognition or the acclaim of our peers?

I no longer aspire to Aragorn. I would like to think of myself – again in a most flattering and favorable comparison – to Faramir, the faithful captain of Gondor and short-lived Steward of Gondor. When the king appeared, he stepped aside and yielded to one better than himself. Faramir, in the book, was a pure and noble man. The line of the Númenoreans was strong in him, as it had been in his father but not Boromir, his brother.

Of late, I have been drawn to identify with Tom Bombadil. Those of you who have only seen the wonderful movies are unfamiliar with this intriguing character from the books and cds. The hobbits are rescued by him early in their journey and stay with him at his home. Tom lives with his wife, Goldberry, and cares little about the cares of the world. He is a powerful man, similar to but greater than Beorn in The Hobbit, and over him the ring has no power. Indeed, when Frodo slips on the ring while in Tom’s presence, Bombadil looks right at him and scolds him for putting it on: Frodo was invisible to all others, but not to Tom. When Tom asks to see the ring, Frodo easily gives it to him; when Tom puts the ring on his own finger, a remarkable thing happens: nothing! Tom does not become invisible; the ring does not appeal to him nor have power over him. He is free.

At one point during the council of Elrond, several in attendance discuss Tom. Elrond is speaking as we pick up the dialogue:

‘He [Bombadil] is a strange creature, but maybe I should have summoned him to our Council.’

“‘ He would not have come,’ said Gandalf.

“‘Could we not still send messages to him and obtain his help?’ asked Erestor. ‘It seems that he has a power even over the Ring.’

“‘ No, I should not put it so,’ said Gandalf. ‘Say rather that the Ring has no power over him. He is his own master. But he cannot alter the Ring itself, nor break its power over others. And now he is withdrawn into a little land, within bounds that he has set, though none can see them, waiting perhaps for a change of days, and he will not step beyond them.’

“‘But within those bounds nothing seems to dismay him,’ said Erestor. ‘Would he not take the Ring and keep it there, for ever harmless?’

“‘No,’ said Gandalf, ‘not willingly. He might do so, if all the free folk of the world begged him, but he would not understand the need. And if he were given the Ring, he would soon forget it, or most likely throw it away. Such things have no hold on his mind. He would be a most unsafe guardian; and that alone is answer enough.’

“‘But in any case,’ said Glorfindel, ‘to send the Ring to him would only postpone the day of evil . . . soon or late the Lord of the Rings would learn of its hiding place and would bend all his power towards it. Could that power be defied by Bombadil alone? I think not. I think that in the end, if all else is conquered, Bombadil will fall.’” – pp. 258-259, Book Two, The Lord of the Rings

There is something about Tom Bombadil that feels familiar to me. Not the power or invulnerability to the Ring, but the detachment and lack of desire for things once pursued. Tom cares about the world about him – he rescues the hobbits not once but twice, after all – but somehow does not feel compelled to engage it directly. He does what he was created to do, it seems, and when opportunity to do good or to help comes to his attention, he does so. He epitomizes Pr 30.8-9 and Ps 131.1:

Give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with the food that is my portion, that I not be full and deny You and say, ‘Who is the LORD?’ or that I not be in want and steal, and profane the name of my God.”

“O LORD, my heart is not proud, nor my eyes haughty; nor do I involve myself in great matters, or in things too difficult for me.”

Tom is content, it seems, to be a simple man who lives out his life in relative – and peaceful – obscurity. He knows what goes on in the world but stays in his place, doing the work before him, enjoying God’s creation, and delighting in the wife of his youth. It is an appealing image and one to which it is tempting to aspire.

But closer to the mark, I think, is Bilbo. He played his part in the great saga – as recorded in The Hobbit – but now his time for active duty has passed. He is a caring, concerned spectator and historian of that which goes on about him. But he is grown old and the time for battle is beyond both his desire and ability. His wisdom, if it may be called that, is not without value, but he diminishes as Frodo becomes greater. The most famous of all the hobbits, as Sam rightly predicts, is not Bilbo but Frodo.

My fifty-sixth birthday is upon me in a few weeks and – while hardly as respectable an age as eleventy-one! – it feels as though it is time to go to Rivendell. To heed the advice of Paul: “to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life and attend to your own business and work with your hands” (1 Thes 4.11). It sounds quite appealing and right.