Blog

Posted on

The Fellowship of the Spirit

Just recently, our family decided to take the perilously long journey to Mordor and to Mount Doom via J.R.R Tolkien’s grueling adventure The Lord of the Rings. Rather heroically, we voted for the extended editions of Peter Jackson’s legendary three films. And so for 682 minutes (over eleven hours!), we were gripped by the nearly hopeless quest of Frodo Baggins and his unlikely companions. We managed about an hour of their adventure each night!

The Lord of the Rings was written as a sequel to Tolkien’s 1937 classic, The Hobbit. Between 1937 and 1949, as the Second World War raged on, Tolkien crafted a larger work of far greater depth and complexity. The Lord of the Rings is one of the best—selling novels ever written, with over 150 million copies sold. The trilogy has become widely recognized as classic literature, among the best written in the 20th century.

Over the years, there has been much ink spilled over about whether or not the series is an allegory for Christianity. Tolkien was certainly a man of deep faith – indeed played a very significant part in leading his close friend, C.S Lewis, to the Lord. So do the characters of Middle-Earth represent different Biblical figures? Did Tolkien set out to seize the hearts of 150 million readers with the message of salvation through a story about a Hobbit? 

J. R. R. Tolkien

According to Tolkien himself, the answer is no. Tolkien’s biographer, Humphrey Carpenter, sets out Tolkien’s genuine motivation: “He wanted the mythological and legendary stories to express his own moral view of the universe, and as a Christian he could not place this view in a cosmos without the God that he worshipped.” Tolkien himself explained, “The Lord of the Rings is of course a fundamentally religious and Christian work; unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision.” He added, “God is the Lord, of angels, and of men—and of elves.”

As our family traveled together through this fascinating adventure, I was struck once again by Tolkien’s portrayal of the extraordinary power that lies at the heart of authentic “fellowship”. Dr. Ralph Wood wrote, “In the unlikely heroism of the small and the weak, Tolkien’s pre-Christian world becomes most Christian. Their greatness is not self-made. As a fledgling community, the Nine Walkers experience a far-off foretaste of the fellowship that Christians call the church universal… They are united not only by their common hatred of evil, but by their ever-increasing, ever more self-surrendering regard for each other.” 

In much the same way, Paul wrote about the community of the Church and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit: “There is one body and one Spirit—just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call— one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.” Ephesians 4:4-6

So, what might Tolkien be showing us about the fellowship of the Spirit? 

1. To begin with, it is a fellowship in which everyone shares the load. Every member of Tolkien’s fellowship has a critical role in bringing the Ring to its destination. No one member would have been able to do it alone. It is a fellowship that continually bears hope, strength and accountability to one another and to the mission. They encourage one another with hospitality — a safe place to sleep, good food and celebration of small victories. In the midst of these brief interludes we see their fellowship deepen; the open hand of hospitality becomes the outstretched hand to rescue in the midst of the fiercest battle.   

2. It is also remarkable that in the darkest and most hellish moments, members of the fellowship continually bear light to each other with the gift of humor. In stark contrast, none of their many adversaries ever says anything witty or funny. Not once. C. S. Lewis suggests the reason for this. In Lewis’ understanding, “humor involves a sense of proportion and power of seeing yourself from the outside…we must picture Hell as a state where everyone is perpetually concerned about his own dignity and advancement, where everyone has a grievance, and where everyone lives the deadly serious passions of envy, self-importance, and resentment…”

3. It is also a fellowship that is distinguished by a culture of mercy and acts of self-sacrifice.There are many forces at work in The Lord of the Rings trilogy, but when the wizard Gandalf is asked what it is that keeps evil at bay, he answers: “Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. For even the very wise cannot see all ends.” Frodo concurs,“It is useless to meet revenge with revenge: it will heal nothing.”

Tolkien lived through two World Wars; he knew that no victory comes without a cost. The theme of sacrifice permeates his writing, and is represented in the life of Frodo, who gives up everything to fulfill his calling. It is poignantly illustrated in the last moments of the trilogy where the fellowship rides out to what they believe will be their own destruction in order to distract the enemy from Frodo’s final ascent to Mount Doom. Greater love has no one than this, that someone lays down his life for his friends [John 15:13]. 

During the years when Nazi Germany stood ready to overshadow the world, Tolkien witnessed ordinary people perform extraordinary acts of heroism. Dr. Ralph Wood observes of the Fellowship, “They are not death-defying warriors like Ajax or Achilles or Beowulf; they are frail and comic foot-soldiers like us. The Nine Walkers – four hobbits, two men, an elf, a dwarf, and a wizard – constitute not a company of the noble but of the ordinary.”

The ordinary home in the Shire for ordinary Hobbits…

And out such a fellowship, whom would you have chosen to bear the ring? That a child-like Hobbit is the hero in this story is perhaps the most fantastical facet of the novel. Knowing that another Child would be born for our salvation, Tolkien may have drawn his confidence from this scripture, among so many others: “You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.” 1 John 4:4

Jim Ware writes, “This idea—that God uses small hands to accomplish great deeds—could almost be called the heart and soul of Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. It’s Moses and Pharaoh, David and Goliath, Gideon and the Midianites all over again. But the mission of Frodo and Sam isn’t just your typical ‘underdog’ story. It’s something much more. In a way, it’s a desperately needed reminder that God’s ways are not our ways—that when the power of evil confronts us with overwhelming odds on its side, the answer is not to fight fire with fire, but to look for deliverance in unexpected places. Hope and salvation, Tolkien seems to say, often arise in small, unnoticed corners. Like a hobbit-hole in the Shire, a manger in a Palestinian stable.” 

4. And Tolkien would remind us that The Fellowship experienced victory. Whatever was true, honorable, just, pure, loving, merciful, kind, courageous, commendable and excellent, all that was so worthy of praise [Philippians 4:8], ultimately prevailed over evil. As followers of Jesus, we know the final victory over evil has already been won for us through His death upon the cross, and it is in His risen Body that we are made one in the fellowship His Spirit. 

In contrast to the Narnia Chronicles and other writings of C.S Lewis, Tolkien does not point us to a clear Christ figure; but Lewis himself understood that Tolkien was working at a level beyond the simply allegorical. Of Tolkien’s work, Lewis wrote, “Here are beauties which pierce like swords or burn like cold iron. Here is a book which will break your heart.”

In the depths of Middle Earth, we are invited to have our hearts broken, to recognize ourselves, the battles we face, the weaknesses that besiege us and the frailty of isolation—even as we are empowered to rejoice in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection of Jesus Christ and a foretaste of His Heavenly Kingdom.  For it is in the fellowship of the Spirit that we find the strength, security and courage to both make our way home, and to play our full part in the transformation of this world through the power of His love. 

Posted on

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Atonement

In his satirical science fiction novel, The Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams plays with the popular aspiration that the world could be a happy place if we could only fix whatever it is that prevents us from being nicer to one another. He writes of a young woman in a tea-room in Rickmansworth, England, who, in the very moments before she unexpectedly dies at her table, discovers the solution to this problem. “This time,” we are told, “it was right, it would work!” And with a glancing reference to the crucifixion, Adams writes, “…and no one would have to get nailed to anything.” 

Michael Lloyd points out in his wonderfully accessible volume, Café Theology, that if “niceness” were really the answer to the world’s problems we’d be truly doomed, because we just don’t have enough niceness in us. The Biblical solution to the human condition – the fault in our souls – is not niceness but something called “atonement”: the reconciling, sacrificial love of God poured out on the Cross. This love, expressed in the atonement, is the love that repairs and restores broken relationships. The Apostle John writes, “This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.” (1 John 4:10). 

We certainly did not love God. In fact, when we came face to face with our Creator in human form, when we finally got our hands on Him, our response was to kill Him. Tom Smail puts it this way: “When the divine love that we see in Jesus comes among us, not only do we fail to imitate it, we turn upon it; not only are we not like Him, but all the priorities by which we live turn us against Him.” 

The Russian theologian Alexander Schmemann arrives at the same bottom line. He concludes, “Christ is crucified because His goodness, His love, the blinding light that pours from Him, is something that people cannot stand. They cannot bear it because it exposes the evil they live by, which they conceal even from themselves.” 

There is much about the Cross that we may never understand or see clearly, but what is clear is that, because of the toxic state of the human heart, Jesus found it absolutely necessary to die for us. The Apostle Paul writes, “But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8 NIV). In other words, the Cross is both the demonstration of God’s love for us as well as the act of supreme love by which we are saved. 

Of such a love, Lloyd concludes, “We need, like the prodigal, to come home, to know the running, embracing, forgiving, accepting, re-clothing, dancing, love of the Father…and for that, someone did have to get nailed to something.”

Posted on

The Lover of our Soul

The Song of Solomon (also known as the Song of Songs) is, according to tradition, King Solomon’s celebrated exploration of the passionate and intimate nature of love. Jewish rabbis and Christian theologians have interpreted the love poem throughout the centuries as an allegory of the love between God and humanity. The poem asks an intriguing question: “Who is that coming up from the wilderness, leaning on her beloved?” (Song of Solomon 8:5a). The single thing about this person that defines her is her posture toward someone she holds very dear. Interpreted allegorically, this is a song celebrating the love of God for Israel and a picture of Jesus’ love for the Church, in addition to the passion shared between a man and a woman in marriage. It has also been interpreted as a picture of our personal communion with God, and when seen in this way, we can ask: Do we recognize ourselves coming up from the wilderness? What would we find if we leaned upon God in this way, and how would we do that? 

To lean upon the beloved would be to discover a love that is tender and merciful. It takes a profound work of God to accept that God is relentlessly compassionate toward us. The Father’s nature is to show compassion. The heart of the Father is defined as being tender toward us, such as in the song of Zechariah: “Because of the tender mercy of our God, the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1:78-79) 

How do we find and lean into this tenderness? Is a generous act or kind word given to you the tenderness of God in your life, or is it just a nice coincidence? Maybe you feel you don’t deserve any tenderness, so God could not be the source of these good gifts. God knows that we may choose to explain away His tenderness in our day to day lives. John Shea wrote, “There are signs of His presence. People find them in the ordinary and in the extraordinary. They are open to argument and refutation but their impact on the ones who receive them can only be welcomed.” We should allow our hearts to be honest about the impact these good gifts, small signs of God’s kindness, have on us. The encouragement found in the allegory of the Song of Songs is to look for the lover of your soul through the lens of His tender mercy toward you. 

We would also find ourselves leaning upon a love that is fierce and jealous. Leaning upon her beloved, she says, “…for love is strong as death, jealousy is fierce as the grave.” (Song of Solomon 8:6b). This jealousy is not the “green-eyed monster” variety, a jealousy that is paranoid and mistrusting. This jealousy is the quality of possessiveness in love that we are supposed to have. Professor Greg Garrett wrote, “Those who passionately love are passionately possessive… exclusivity is not of itself corrupt or oppressive… the term jealousy (in this sense) refers to a proper possessiveness in the setting of a wholesome relationship. Rightly experienced by healthy souls this exclusivity is part of the glory of love and further indicates the seriousness of entering into this relationship.” 

That should not surprise us. The same fierce love that would come running over the mountain and the seas, the same fierce love that would wrap itself around us in the very eye of the storm is the same fierce love that sent Jesus to the Cross. He loves us with a passionate, exclusive commitment, and He would have us meet His love with a passionate, exclusive commitment to Him. How do we lean upon His fierce and jealous love? We could begin by asking Him, “Lord, what is standing in the way of my exclusive surrender to you?” Then ask for the strength to put whatever that is down. 

Finally, we would encounter a love that is permanent and unquenchable. The song continues, “Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm” (Song of Solomon 8:6a). The writer is pointing us to a mutual possession that is permanent. The seal that is described here is upon your heart (a deep and inward sealing) and upon your arm (a seal that is public and external). The poem provides two other images given to the permanence of God’s love: “Its flashes are flashes of fire, the very flame of the Lord. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it.” (Song of Solomon 8:6c-7a). Here are two opposing elements: fire and water. Who wins when fire and water go up against each other? If there is enough water, the water will always win. But here the fire wins because it is no ordinary fire — it is the flame of the Lord. There is only one express mention of the Lord in Song of Solomon, and this is it. 

The “flame of the Lord” is a powerful image because it takes us to two extraordinary times in Israel’s journey with the Lord. First, there was Moses before the burning bush — a fire that was unquenchable [Exodus 3:2-6]. Then there was the parting of the Red Sea — millions of gallons of water were held back while the people of God made good their escape, and the water did not extinguish the pillar of fire that led the way, giving them light by night [Exodus 13:21-22]. The Cross is the supreme symbol of the tender and merciful, fierce and jealous, permanent and unquenchable love of Jesus Christ, the love that is above all loves. The Cross is the absolute reassurance that the allegory in the Song of Songs is undeniably trustworthy: God truly is the lover of our souls.

Now let us be sure to lean on that reality with all our heart.

Posted on

The Confidence of Change

About a year ago I had the privilege of spending time with a man who had a very long, studied and successful career as a senior partner with one of the most successful accounting practices in US history. We sat in his backyard on a Autumn morning that made you grateful to live in a world where there are Autumns. There is something innately nostalgic about the annual cascade of autumn leaves.

We talked about many things, including his career. I remarked that he must have seen a great deal of change, and he smiled. He had been responsible for leading corporate strategy, and he recalled a time when the firm was doing well and his partners were divided about the future. Some looked to the future, eager to meet new challenges, while others said that their preferred future was about professionally servicing the status quo with excellence. He spent many hours looking not just within the market place but also to history, nature and science. He produced a report that brought the strongest recommendation. The world changes every second, and like autumn foliage, it blows new opportunities in all directions. The art of a life well lived is the ability to readjust to our surroundings and those opportunities. History repeatedly revealed that the cost of doing the same thing over and over again is far greater than the cost of change. Ecology showed how, in the words of Charles Darwin, “It is not the strongest or the most intelligent who will survive but those who can best manage change.” His partners agreed, and the firm went on to scale new heights of success while at the same time raising the bar of excellence in customer care. 

Someone once said that uttering the word “change” in the church is the equivalent of yelling “Shark!” at the beach! I recall that at the church I first attended, after a few months of my showing up, they changed the time of the evening service and planted a new church. I was horrified. I had found something so wonderful that I wanted to preserve my lived experience of it. This same church has now reproduced itself many times over and has a vast array of service times in church plants all over London and the UK. I am glad that they did not ask or heed my opinion in that early season of my following Jesus. 

Nevertheless, change can be really hard. Rosabeth Moss Kanter wrote, “Change is disturbing when it is done to us, exhilarating when it is done by us.” Even the godliest people naturally attach to beloved traditions and customs, and find it painful to say goodbye to them. We hate to lose those things where we find our identity. We fear the uncertainty of the unknown. We wonder whether and where we will fit in the new order. But to follow Jesus is to surrender to change both personally and as a family of believers. John Henry Newman wrote, “To live is to change, and to be perfect is to have changed often.” The Christian life is never static. This is an important concept as we co-operate with God in His process of sanctification in our lives. Within each of us exists the image of God and beneath the layers of sin and pain that has dinted and scraped our souls, Jesus is able to restore this image, and through the grace of change we are conformed to His image. Paul wrote, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.” [Romans 12:2]. 

Ecclesiastes reminds us that we can to expect to experience change in our life in God, “For everything there is a season. A time to keep and a time to cast away.” [Ecclesiastes 3:1-8]. And perhaps most profoundly, Jesus primed us to anticipate change in the increase of His Kingdom through the advance of His church. He promised us, “I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” [Matthew 16:18]. This is not a picture of the church in a bunker, with its hands metaphorically covering its head, fending off the attacks of the enemy. This is His church on the advance. This is a picture of His Kingdom of light prevailing over the kingdom of darkness.  

One of the most outstanding Biblical leaders is Joshua. And in a very strategic period of change for God’s people, as they crossed the river Jordan to enter the promised land we are told, “And all Israel was passing over on dry ground until all the nation finished passing over the Jordan.” [Joshua 3:14-17]; all generations from the youngest to the eldest made it, nobody got left behind. Kingdom change is about being honest that we don’t have all the answers but together in prayer and in prayerful deliberation and discussion we will find our way across our own rivers. Kingdom change seeks Godly counsel. It affirms and cherishes relationship, showing a genuine concern and respect for others. Kingdom change learns to move with the Holy Spirit. It is flexible, able to accommodate and modify its speed and direction upon the wise and Godly counsel of others. Of paramount importance, Kingdom change will always seek to glorify God. Paul wrote, “Whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” (1 Corinthians 10:31) 

As my new friend and I headed back to the house, the most exquisite monarch butterfly followed us across the yard. My host explained that his neighbor raised butterflies in her glass house. It struck me that this was the perfect metaphor to end our conversation on the necessity and virtue of change. We can learn a lot from the butterfly. It begins its life crawling and devouring everything in its sight that is green. Spun into a cocoon, it must surely have to overcome claustrophobia as it patiently waits for the day when it struggles to exit what were only temporary paper walls. It is exactly in that struggle that the butterfly grows both in strength and beauty until, on a perfect Autumn morning, it’s ready to spread its wings and fly. 

Posted on

The Spotlight of God’s Grace

In a chaotic time when we must be persevering in God’s grace more than ever, it is possible that you may feel you’re going backward in your walk with God. Perhaps certain things you were sure you overcame have returned, and maybe there are a few new things that you are beginning to recognize as contrary to God’s best for you. I want to suggest that this is not your “going backward” but is actually an answer to our prayers for more of God’s grace. 

Let me begin (thanks to Fleming Rutledge’s theological masterpiece, The Crucifixion) by talking about the nature of sin. Sin is a verb. It is something that we perform or engage in. Paul reminds us: “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23). But sin is also a noun, a dominion under which humanity exists. Paul also wrote, “Are we Jews any better off? No, not at all. For we have already charged that all, both Jews and Greeks, are under sin.” (Romans 3:9). Sin is, therefore, not so much a collection of individual misdeeds but an active, malevolent agency bent on undoing God’s purposes in the world and in our lives. Rutledge writes, “Our misdeeds are the signs of that agency at work; they are not the thing itself.” Sin is not something we merely commit; it is something that we are in. Jesus said, “Truly, truly, I say to you, everyone who practices sin is a slave to sin.” (John 8:34). As slaves, we are in need of deliverance, to be liberated by a greater power.

The New Testament teaches that Jesus Christ came in order to atone for our sins by his death on the cross but also to overcome the power and dominion of sin through his resurrection. With reference to both Paul assures us, “You who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross. He disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him.” (Colossians 2:13-15). It is the grace of God that engendered the whole thing, including our subsequent repentance. When we come to recognize this collusion with the power of sin, we find that we are already standing in God’s grace. 

So how can we respond to this grace? 

First, we need to understand that we are in the middle of a very large battle. There are two natures at work in every follower of Jesus and they are in daily conflict with each other: 

  • The Spirit: a renewed Christian heart made new by the Holy Spirit; and  
  • The sinful nature (“the flesh”): the aspect of our hearts which are not yet renewed by (or yielded to) Jesus’ Spirit. 

Paul stated this plainly: “For the flesh desires what is contrary to the Spirit and the Spirit what is contrary to the flesh. They are in conflict with each other…” (Galatians 5:17). This very large battle is one that I cannot win in my own strength. Although my will is necessary, my will alone is not sufficient to overcome it.

Second, to the very best of our own efforts, we are invited by God to respond to His grace and release our attachment to the strong desires that lead us away from God. This process has a lot to do with humility. David prayed, “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions.” (Psalm 51:1). David’s plea for mercy is grounded in God’s “steadfast love” and “abundant mercy.” Rutledge observes that while David’s spirit is crushed by the knowledge of his sinfulness, stronger still is his confidence in God’s desire and ability to cleanse him from his sin. 

I am humbled by the fact that God’s grace pursues me, notwithstanding the fact that my collusion with sin is ultimately against Him. “For I know my transgressions,” writes David, “and my sin is ever before me. Against you [God], you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight…” (Psalm 51:3). 

I am humbled by God’s Word as it gives me understanding of my sin and I am given the opportunity to be really honest about where I have failed. So, standing in the spotlight of God’s grace, I do the very best I can in the moment to confess my sins and release them to Him. Under his warm and bright light, I can contemplate in prayer how to move away from them. What can I do to turn off the sirens in my life? How can I bring my will to bear upon this release? You may be wondering how our feeble attempts to let go of these desires can be helpful in a battle that we are powerless to win on our own. How can five loaves and two fish feed a hungry crowd of thousands? In Jesus’ hands, somehow, they did. We are powerless to win our battle with sin by ourselves, but standing in the grace of God we are supernaturally empowered to do just that by the power of His Spirit. Through the death and resurrection of Jesus, the way has been made for us to accept His mercy, love, and guidance in our lives.

This is why, even as more sin in our lives may come to our attention, in reality we can know this is an answer to prayer for more of God’s grace. Only by the light of His grace can we recognize the power of sin within us and bring it to God for his mercy and healing. Rutledge concludes, “The grace of God prepares the way for the confession of sin. It is present in the confession, and even before the confession is made has already worked the restoration of which confession is not the cause but the sign.”