Hope from the Gates of Mordor
The Lord of the Rings is one of my all-time favorite stories.
I was first introduced to Middle-Earth by my father, who gifted me his old, worn-out copy of The Hobbit when I was in 6th grade. At the time, Tolkien’s unique use of language and writing style was hard for me to understand. It wasn’t until Peter Jackson’s film interpretations hit the screen in 2001 that I truly became hooked. After watching The Fellowship of the Rings, I returned to the books and devoured ALL of them. And, as fantastic as the movies were, Tolkien’s books were so much better–layered, nuanced, and deep. Now, I re-read them every year.
And, every year, I find something else profound within its pages.
It’s no secret that Tolkien’s masterpiece was influenced by the author’s burgeoning relationship with Christ. Although he has adamantly denied the work is a Christian allegory, parallels between Middle Earth and our own world cannot be missed, nor can one fail to recognize the small “God truths” sprinkled throughout its pages. It’s one of the delights of reading and re-reading the stories.
Such was the case recently when I was journeying with Frodo and Sam once again in The Two Towers. As the pair inches ever closer to Mordor, a growing sense of doom begins to envelope our Ring-Bearer. And it’s not just internal; there is a heaviness in the air around them, an unnatural silence created by the lack of living creatures that should have been crawling and soaring through the countryside. Not only that, but there was a cloud stretching out from the boundaries of Mordor itself, a shadow creeping into the land of the living that made day feel like twilight. It was a tangible reminder of the seeming hopelessness of Frodo’s task–and he felt it acutely.
Have you ever felt that growing sense of despair or doom? Okay, so maybe you’ve never traveled to the outskirts of Mordor (but, if you have, I want to hear about it!), yet I guarantee each one of us has felt like Frodo in that moment. Most of the time, we never even have to leave our home. Just open up the newspaper or switch on the evening news, and you’ll be confronted with every sort of evil imaginable: senseless shootings, cruelty to children, Christian leaders falling into sin. All of it gives us a sense of fear and pessimism, as if a shadow is creeping across our world too, devouring goodness and slipping us into a realm of darkness.
And, I don’t know if you ever feel the same way but, sometimes, I have to admit, I feel as if the shadow has won. The fight is over. We cannot wrench this world from the pull of Satan’s grip.
I can, like Frodo, feel hopeless.
And yet….God.
I’ve found throughout my life that it’s precisely in these moments that God shows up. It’s when the world seems darkest that His light shines brightest. And, if we can pull our eyes from the death and destruction that demands our attention, He is faithful in shining that light on the small evidences of goodness we might otherwise miss.
This was true in Tolkien’s work, and it’s true for us.
Just before entering the Black Land, Frodo and Sam come across a statue of one of Gondor’s ancient kings, seated on the throne. The head had been broken off, cast down, and replaced with an obscene replica. The pedestal and throne itself had been defaced and graffitied. A more profound and heartbreaking symbol of Mordor’s reach and despicableness had never been seen.
And yet…
It was only when Frodo pulled his eyes from the despair before him that he noticed something. The head of the statue–the true head, the one that had been removed–was lying on the side of the road in the last light of the sun. And, across its brow lay a splash of color–a crown of flowers, its green tendrils wapping the king’s head in silver and gold. The symbol of the mighty king of Gondor was fallen, broken…but not defeated.
“They cannot conquer forever!” Frodo cried in a mighty surge of optimism. This delicate crown, growing in spite of the wickedness all around, gave the two hobbits the strength they needed to carry on with their arduous task.
And so it is with us. Yes, evil surrounds us. Yes, sin abounds. But, if we look closely, we can still see evidence of God’s goodness. It’s the surge of humanitarian aid during times of crisis. It’s the gentle touch of a friend when we receive horrific, heart-breaking news. And it’s the strong communities of faith flourishing throughout the world irregardless of persecution (or what popular media would have you believe).
And these small wonders redirect our gaze to truth: Christ lives. And, because He lives, the enemy’s defeat is assured; it’s only a matter of time.
They cannot conquer forever.
And, my friends, they will not.
May we cling to this light when, as Galadriel says, all other lights go out.
