"I Don't Know What the Likes of Me Can Do"

    Many years ago I had a professor who intimated that, contrary to the evidence of our eyes, he was indeed Gandalf. He was just in disguise since getting a sword through the airport would have been slightly tricky. That semester, I began earnestly developing my love for literature, and Tolkien's Lord of the Rings in particular. Since then, I have on average read Tolkien's epic once a year.

    Over the last couple of years, I have been particularly struck by a piece of conversation that takes place fairly early in the story. Frodo and Aragorn have just related to Barliman Butterbur, an innkeeper, that in helping them he will be facing forces from Mordor. In light of this information, they want to know whether he still wants to assist them. Tolkien relates his answer this way:

 "I am," said Mr. Butterbur. "More than ever. Though I don't know what the likes of me can do against, against---" he faltered.

"Against the shadow in the East," said Strider quietly. "Not much, Barliman, but every little helps."¹

    This idea of inability, or limited agency, recurs repeatedly through Tolkien's saga. Examples could include Frodo's "I do not know the way" in Rivendell, Theoden's description of himself as a lesser man, Denethor's despair at winning the war with Mordor, and Sam's reluctance to continue the quest when he thinks Shelob has killed Frodo. Each of these moments in their way capture Barliman Butterbur's "I don't know what the likes of me can do." Each of these characters is brought to face with how small they are in the face of the evil they are opposing.

    Part of the refreshment in Tolkien's story is that he does not undermine this question, but rather gives it  full weight. In the hands of a slightly more contemporary storyteller, one would expect the protagonist to discover that they were uniquely equipped to address the evil they find in the world. The apparent limits on their agency end up being limits of perception, rather than limits in reality. Without discounting the value of those storylines, it is worth noting that Tolkien generally supports his character's assessment of themselves. Even when it turns out that they were stronger than they realized, their additional strength does not give them the resources to successfully confront the evil in Middle Earth.

    And yet, they do win. How? Before we can fully explore that answer, we ought to look at Madeline L'Engle's Wrinkle in Time series. Specifically, the second book in that series, A Wind in the Door.

    In A Wind in the Door, the Murry family's youngest, Charles, is dying, but for no reason which doctors can identify. As his older sister, Meg, seeks to discover the case of and heal Charles' illness, the reader is taken on a trip that spans from galaxies to cells in the human body. A key point that is brought out in the story is that all members of creation are interconnected and have specific roles to play relative to each other: ". . . we all need each other. Every atom in the universe is dependent on every other."² Because of this need of each for the others, "A fara or a man or a star has his place in the universe, but nothing created is the center."³ Not being in the center does not detract from one's importance. Rather, it recognizes that no one person or thing is all-important, requiring no support from others. In the end, Charles is healed, but only as a result of everyone else playing their part. Separation leads to disorder and chaos. Unity, though, brings greater harmony and order.

    Return to Barliman Butterbur. The fact that my own resources and efforts are minuscule in the face of the disorder and injustice in the world is quite obvious. More often than not, I find myself repeating with him, "I don't know what the likes of me can do." What both Tolkien and L'Engle affirm is that when this is our perspective, we are grasping an essential truth. On our own, we cannot defeat evil. However, that is not the end of the story. They go on to remind us that "every little helps",  and "every atom in the universe is dependent on every other." We cannot personally right what is wrong with the world. But, the interconnections in the world mean that the effects of our small actions ripple out in ways we rarely can anticipate.

    In the end, I am sure that this is rehashing ideas that others have done a better job explaining. Still, with the general unrest in the world, we have all been faced in a new way with our inadequacies. Like me, perhaps, you need the reminder that "can I make a significant enough difference" ought to be reframed to "what can I do now?" It may not be much--but, it was never supposed to be much. It was supposed to be the piece that supported the work of those around you.

What are particular wrongs in the world which capture your attention?

What skill sets or strengths do you have which allow you to speak to those wrongs?

---

Notes and References

1. J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord Of The Rings (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1993), 185.

2. Madeleine L'Engle, A Wrinkle in Time Trilogy (New York: Square Fish, 2012), 441.

3. Ibid., 431.

"The hands of a king are the hands of a healer"

"The hands of a king are the hands of a healer." As the last part of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings series unfolds, this sentence clues us in on one of the ways that the people of Middle Earth will recognize the True King. At the same time, Tolkien's words also identify a facet of Christ's character.

Before the impact of Tolkien's words can be appreciated, there is an important fact which needs to be understood: The world around us is broken. Completely broken. And, as Schaeffer points out The God Who Is There, this brokenness creates separation. Separation from God, separation from who we are, separation from those around us, and separation from the world in which we live. Because of sin, the world is not as it should be, nor can we relate to it the way we ought.

Understanding the state of the world opens up part of what Christ's salvation means - healing. Paul expresses this in Romans 8:
"For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God." (Romans 8:19-21 ESV) As Paul unpacks for us, the whole world was caught in our fall - but it will be restored as Christ's victory is completed.

The hands of a King are the hands of a healer. Christ demonstrates His authority through the healing He brings to the world. Christ does not seek merely to subdue the rebellion against His rule, He pursues a re-creation of the world which was damaged by this rebellion. The Gospel is not just a message about the defeat of sin. It is a message about God making all things new. This has two distinct impacts on our lives right now.

First, we can trust Christ to completely heal us, eradicating sin at both its deepest and widest reaches in our lives. When Christ restores, the impact is felt in all of our relationships. Being set right with God also means being set in right relationship with the rest of God's world. It means that the death which sin brought to the core of our being and to every area of our lives has been and is being removed. Some of this healing will be an ongoing work through the rest of our lives, but we can trust Christ to provide the healing, strength, and grace to outwork this new life each day.

Second, the effect of the Gospel on our lives is a witness to others of Christ's authority. Schaeffer puts it this way in The God Who Is There: "What we are called to do, upon the basis of the finished work of Christ in the power of the Spirit through faith, is to exhibit a substantial healing, individual and then corporate, so that people may observe it. This too is a portion of the apologetic: a presentation which gives at least some demonstration that these things are not theoretical but real; not perfect, yet substantial." In other words, our witness to others is not solely that the Rightful King has returned and we can prove His credentials, but also that His rule has brought healing to our lives. The healing impact of the Gospel in and through the Church demonstrates to others that Christ is the foundation of reality.

The hands of a king are the hands of a healer. A life that is justified at the Cross will be a life characterized of substantial healing in the world around them - the result of an application of the Gospel to all of life. Not only will their life be healed, but they will then extend that healing to the world around them.

As you look back on your life, can you see areas where Christ's healing has changed you? What opportunities do you have to extend His healing to the world around you?

But They Never Came to Rivendell

Life is not always a bed of roses. Sometimes its more of a road with rocks waiting to trip you up. That's where life has been for me recently. Rough, stressful, challenging. Full time work and full time school, an upcoming move from the community I've built up, plus a few other things are all stacking up. And I don't know about you, but I don't really like it here, in the rocky road. Pain is never really fun. One can only pretend that it's all good for so long on their own. In that context, I came across this quote in Tolkien's Lord of the Rings:

"...they missed a dark and dangerous journey. But they never came to Rivendell."

In the course of the book, this quote is actually talking about the Hobbits ponies that were scared off during the attack on the Inn at Bree. In this little aside, Tolkien relates to us how they missed the rest of the difficult journey which Frodo and Company took. However, this also meant that they never made it to Rivendell, the elven refuge for rest and encouragement. In the tales of Tolkien's world, it is also aptly referred to as The Last Homely House.

Why take time to look at this brief snapshot? Because we often are on the dark and dangerous journey, whether we like it or not, whether we chose it or not. This snapshot of the hobbit's ponies encouraged me to rise above myself and see the bigger picture. Sure, life is difficult now, but Rivendell is at the end of the difficulties. Paul puts it this way in 2 Corinthians: "For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal." (2 Corinthians 4:17-18 ESV)

If, like me, you are on one of life's rocky stretches, take heart. Rivendell is up ahead. Once we get there, we'll be able to see how the rough stretch was worth it.

There is certainly more that could be said about how to live life well in the middle of difficulty. In addition to looking forward to the benefits at the end, how else should we approach life's rough times? Do we take something away from the benefit of the pain if we focus solely on resolving and healing it?