Unexpected

No testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it. (1 Corinthians 10:13)

The title of the first chapter of The Hobbit is "An Unexpected Party" and the subtitle of the first installment of Peter Jackson's upcoming two-movie adaptation of the book is "An Unexpected Journey." With these titles, Tolkien and Jackson both are emphasizing that what happens to Bilbo Baggins is a drastic change from his normal Hobbit state of utter predictability. Tolkien tells us right off the bat that the thing that made the Bagginses respectable in the eyes of their neighbors, even more so than their wealth, was that "they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him."

That all changes, however, when thirteen dwarves and a wizard show up, unannounced, on his doorstep one day at tea time. Bilbo fulfills his duty as host, but the whole time he is flustered and upset with the intrusion into his quiet routine. To make matters worse, they are all calling him a burglar and expecting him to join them on a difficult journey to the Lonely Mountain, where he is to help them vanquish a dragon and reclaim their treasure. He keeps protesting that he is not a burglar, and he is certainly not eager to leave the comforts of his hobbit hole to travel who knows where into danger. He is acting much more fearful than a burglar probably should, too, and this causes the dwarves to begin to doubt Gandalf's choice of Bilbo as the one who can help them.

Gandalf's response is quick and authoritative: "I have chosen Mr. Baggins and that ought to be enough for all of you. If I say he is a Burglar, a Burglar he is, or will be when the time comes. There is a lot more in him than you guess, and a deal more than he has any idea of himself."

There are two things in that statement that leap out at me. First, the qualifier that Gandalf adds on to his assertion about Bilbo's abilities: he may not be something now, but he will be when the time comes. Second, Gandalf sees beyond the conventional, predictable Hobbit exterior and recognizes abilities and potential in Bilbo that not even Bilbo himself realizes he possesses. 

I imagine God to be somewhat like Gandalf in this instance. He presents us with challenging tasks or allows us to be in challenging circumstances because he knows exactly what we are capable of, even when we aren't so confident in our own abilities, and he prepares us in all sorts of ways to have the experiences and abilities to do what he needs us to do, maybe not right now, but when the time comes. It's both comforting and scary, all at the same time – and it's so exhilarating to come to the end of a situation you didn't think you could handle, having passed the test with at least flying colors, if not wagon-loads of treasure liberated from the dragon's hoard.

A Very Good Place to Start

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. (John 1:1-3)

"Once upon a time…"

"Long ago in a galaxy far, far away…"

"In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit…"

What is it about the opening words of a good story? You read them and instantly you are pulled into another world, eager for the tale to unfold before your eyes. They cause a sense of excitement for the adventure to come, whether it is a brand new paperback or an old volume worn out with many past readings. 

The opening of a story raises many questions: What is a Hobbit? Why does he live in a hole? Is something going to happen to this Hobbit or to his hole? Even though I know the answers to all of those questions, I still love to read that first line. I can't wait to find out what the story is going to tell me this time around, the details I'll discover that I've never noticed before or the little things that I had forgotten about since the last time I read it.

"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth…"

"In the year King Uzziah died…"

"And it came to pass in those days…"

The Bible contains its share of great story openers, too, and just as with The Hobbit, I can always discover something new or rediscover something forgotten every time I go back to its familiar tales. I confess, however,  that I don't do this nearly as often as I should. I pray that I may never forget to approach the Bible as a favorite story, ready to be comforted by its familiar words and challenged by its truths. I pray that I will become engrossed in the wonderful adventure of God's love and read it over and over again, until it becomes as worn and tattered as a beloved novel.

Control Freak

Therefore do not worry, saying "What will we eat?" or "What will we drink?" or "What will we wear?" For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today. (Matthew 6:31-34)

C.S. Lewis is well-known for the Narnia series and for his writings on Christianity, but he's not always remembered for his foray into science fiction in the form of the so-called "Space Trilogy" (Although I use the term "science fiction" loosely – the books do describe a series of journeys to other planets and meetings with alien races, but there is far more fiction than science. In fact, like the Narnia books, they are a thinly-disguised set of treatises on Christian themes). 

When I read Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra, and That Hideous Strength, it was the second book that made the biggest impression on me. In it, the protagonist travels to Venus, which is known as Perelandra to its inhabitants. There he finds an oceanic world of floating islands and one green-skinned female humanoid creature, a type of Eve who has been separated from, and spends most of her time searching for, her Adam. 

In the midst of the floating islands is one piece of land that always stays put. The Venusians are allowed to visit it, but they must never spend the night on it – most of their time is to be spent on the floating islands, at the mercy of the wind and waves. At first, the woman tells the Earthman, she thought that the prohibition from dwelling on the fixed island was ridiculous, but eventually she has come to understand it: being on the fixed land made her life less uncertain and caused her to rely less on the protection of Maleldil (her name for God).

"It was to reject the wave – to draw my hands out of Maleldil's, to say to Him, 'Not thus, but thus' – to put in our power what times should roll towards us…as if you gathered fruits together today for tomorrow's eating instead of taking what came. That would have been cold love and feeble trust. And out of it how could we ever have climbed back into love and trust again?"

It's not that I don't trust God, but it's so hard sometimes to relinquish control of my life (or the illusion of control, anyway). I'm not a control freak most of the time, but I do like to be independent and to take care of myself. I wonder if this need I feel for self-reliance is the reason I find myself in my current circumstances – unemployed and dependent on my family for support. I resolve, now and in the future when I'm back on my feet, to accept God's provision and take what comes, secure in the knowledge that I will get what I need.

Do What You Can

He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? (Micah 6:8)

It has been a long journey. The Fellowship that started out with nine members has lost one, then four more, and after several reunions and splits and more reunions, it is back up to six. Battles have been fought at Helm's Deep and the Pelennor Fields in front of the walled city of Gondor, and after the latest battle there is finally a moment of respite, a chance for Aragorn to gather his captains and advisors and plan their next move.

Gandalf is the main speaker at this meeting. He tells those assembled that their ultimate fate depends on what happens to the Ring: if Sauron gets it, there will be nothing anyone can do to stop him, but if it is destroyed, there is nothing Sauron can do to prevent his inevitable destruction. The ring is out of their hands, he tells them, but fortunately Sauron does not know that for certain, and the best thing they can do is to keep him occupied fighting several strong leaders, any one of whom might have the ring, so that Frodo has a better chance of sneaking into Mordor unnoticed. He says:

"Other evils there are that may come; for Sauron is himself but a servant or emissary. Yet it is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succor of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule."

They can't ultimately control the fate of the ring, Gandalf tells them, but they can do everything in their power to give Frodo the best chance to destroy it and leave the world a better place for future generations.

We can't control the future, either, but we can do our best each day to make good choices that will advance the forces of good and drive back the forces of evil. Micah had the right idea several thousand years ago: acting justly, being kind, and walking humbly with God each day is a good start towards changing the world. I resolve to try my best each day to act in accordance with these three simple guidelines. If we all would do that, we would be well on the way to making the world a better place now, and leaving it better for those who come after us.

Now is the Time

If you keep silence at such a time as this, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another quarter, but you and your father's family will perish. Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this. (Esther 4:14)

Esther has a lot in common with Frodo Baggins, if you think about it. Esther was a Jew married to the king of Persia, and she risked her life when she went, uninvited, before the king to seek protection for the Jews from the king's advisor Haman. Frodo was a Hobbit living in the Shire whose uncle gave him a magic ring, and he risked his life when he went to the heart of Sauron's land to destroy the ring and save all the people of Middle Earth from destruction.

A bit of a stretch? Maybe, but consider this as well: neither one asked to do the life-threatening task, but both accepted the challenge and both, with the help of other people (including higher powers), managed successful outcomes. 

Esther's uncle, Mordecai, asked her to use her position of influence to get the king to help the Jews. She asked him gather the Jewish community and join her and her maids in fasting and praying for three days. She then went to talk to the king, even though she could be put to death for approaching him without being summoned. In the end, the king welcomed her and did as she asked, and the Jews were saved. 

Frodo was given the ring as a gift. Though he would gladly give it to Gandalf or Aragorn, he agrees to bear the burden all the way to Mordor and finally destroys it in the fires of Mount Doom, allowing the forces of Sauron to be defeated. Very close to the beginning of the tale, Gandalf visits Frodo to share with him what information he has found out about the ring, and none of it is good. Frodo says of the dismal news, "I wish it need not have happened in my time."

"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."

This year, I resolve to make the most of the time I am given and the situation in which I find myself. I may wish that things had turned out differently, but I resolve to keep my eyes open for ways I can make a difference. Perhaps God has put me in these circumstances "for such a time as this."

Low Flying

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff – they comfort me. (Psalm 23:4)

In The Magician's Nephew, a prequel to the other books in C.S. Lewis's Narnia series, Aslan sends Digory on a mission that will help save the newly created land of Narnia. He gives him a winged horse and these instructions:

"Do not fly too high….Do not try to go over the tops of the great ice-mountains. Look out for the valleys, the green places, and fly through them. There will always be a way through."

Too many times I see obstacles as things to be overcome, surmounted, climbed or jumped over. Aslan's advice seems contrary to my first instinct, but on second thought, it makes so much sense. There are many dangers to being at high, cold altitudes, while the valleys are much warmer, with access to food, water, and shelter if needed. It is much safer to fly between the mountains than over them, but so often I get fixated on a goal and one way to get there and I forget to look for other, better ways to achieve the same ends.

This New Year, I resolve to keep an open mind and look for alternative paths, especially since the paths I have been following haven't yet gotten me where I want to be. I resolve also to trust Aslan's word that "there will always be a way through," and to have faith that it will lead to the place that I need to be, even if that place is not the same as the place I want to be.

Regeneration

Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. (Romans 6:4)

It's New Year's Day, a time for geek thoughts to turn to, what else, but the Doctor. More specifically, I'm thinking of that alien ability that has allowed him to save the earth for nearly fifty years despite otherwise fatal events: regeneration. Every so often our intrepid hero gives his life in the interest of saving the human race, but when the old body dies, it is replaced by a new one. The new Doctor retains all of his old memories, along with his strange fondness for humans, but he has a new face, new hair, a new voice, and new tastes, both in clothing (tweed jacket and red bowtie, really?) and in food (fish fingers and custard, anyone?). 

In many ways, the Doctor's regeneration reminds me of what Paul says in Romans 6 about becoming a Christian. When we commit our lives to following Jesus, our old self dies in that we change our attitudes and actions to reflect our births as new beings, focused on making choices that bring us into fellowship with God.

My wish for the new year is for regeneration – new and renewed commitments to take up our crosses and follow Jesus, and appreciation of being able to "walk in newness of life" every day we so choose.