The Big Picture

This is God’s Word on the subject: “As soon as Babylon’s seventy years are up and not a day before, I’ll show up and take care of you as I promised and bring you back home. I know what I am doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for. (Jeremiah 29:10-11, The Message)

Thirteen dwarves and one hobbit have been wandering around in Mirkwood forest, seemingly in circles. At their wits’ end, the hobbit, one Bilbo Baggins, being the smallest and lightest of the company (as well as the burglar under whose contract such tasks might fall), climbs a tree to try to get a handle on their location and the direction they should go. His head bursts through the leaves at the top of the tree into blessed sunlight and a flock of black butterflies, and as he looks around he sees…

Well, what he sees depends on whether you are watching the movie or reading the book, and out of all the changes and additions that Peter Jackson made when adapting The Hobbit for the big screen, this minor difference in the second film, The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug, is one of the things that bothered me the most. In the movie, Bilbo becomes excited because he can see the Lonely Mountain in the distance. He can then tell the dwarves the correct direction to go and that they are not far from the edge of the forest. It is a moment of hope after the despair of Mirkwood.

In the book, there is no such hope for Bilbo. It turns out that the tree he climbs happens to be in a low spot and all he can see is more trees on every side, even though they are actually quite close to the edge of the forest and all is not nearly as hopeless as it seems. What Bilbo lacks is the ability to see the big picture at that moment.

While a hopeful scene of seeing the goal and the way out makes you feel better in the midst of the movie drama, I think I like the book version better because it is much closer to how things work in real life. The truth is, we don’t see the big picture when we are suffering or making our way through a difficult situation. In fact, when I wrote about the book scene several years ago during my “blog through The Hobbit,” I too was near the edge of the forest but could not see it from my vantage point. I had spent two years looking for another teaching job with another summer of searching ahead of me but few prospects in sight. The only sign of hope was the sale of my house a few months prior, allowing me to expand my job search parameters, but even with new job listings to watch I didn’t know how much longer it would be. I did not know then that later that summer, I would have an interview with a principal via Skype. I did not know that, having chalked it up as one more interview without a job offer, I would be travelling five hours for a face-to-face interview the next month. I didn’t know that less than a week after that I’d be moving to another state and starting work (barely two days before the students started themselves) and living in a hotel while I tried to get a classroom set up and find an apartment!

So I hope you’ll excuse me if I’m not impressed with the touchy-feely, “oh look, there’s hope!” scene in the movie. I have been in the same position as book-Bilbo, looking around and seeing nothing but trees rising all around me, hoping that maybe the edge of the forest was somewhere just beyond, even though I couldn’t see it. And it turns out, in hindsight, that I was exactly in book-Bilbo’s position, and the edge of the forest was quite close, but the tree I looked from was still down in the valley and not up on the ridge. It turns out that it’s never as hopeless as it seems, for Bilbo or for me. I have learned through my experience that sometimes you can’t see the end, but it doesn’t mean there’s no hope, it just means that you cannot see the whole picture. It means that you have to trust. I pray I may never have to be in the same situation again, but at least now I know that there’s always hope, even in the most hopeless-seeming situations, and I won’t give up just because I can’t see what’s out there.

Musicals

Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God. (Psalm 42:11)

In addition to being a SF geek, I am also a musical theater nerd. I love to see live shows, but since that doesn’t happen very often, I do just fine with soundtracks; I can sing all the parts along with the best Broadway or West End cast, especially when I am in the car or doing some cleaning. Musical theater is traditionally seen as a happy genre - people would not be singing and dancing so much otherwise - so this article listing a number of “Surprisingly Depressing” musicals drew my attention when I came across in my Facebook news feed the other day.

First on the list, not surprisingly at all, is Rent, which is about people dying of AIDS and overdosing on heroin and living in squalid lofts. It is followed closely by Les Miserables, which, just as it says on the tin, depicts the struggles of some miserable people in 19th century Paris. Miss Saigon and its doomed love story in the middle of the Vietnam War, check. Chicago’s cast of homicidal women prisoners, yep, they’re in there too, just as you’d expect.

What I didn’t expect was to see shows like The Sound of Music or Fiddler on the Roof or Annie, all three of which appear on the list as well. While it is true, as the article reminds us, that they involve Nazis, antisemitism, and poor mistreated orphans, respectively, these are never prominent enough themes to label the musicals as blatantly depressing, unless, of course, you’re an internet writer who needs to fill in the gaps in your latest click-bait top 10 list.

It’s the music that makes it better, isn’t it? When the latest in a long line of governesses makes dresses from the drapes, covers for you instead of turning you in when you sneak in after spending time with your boyfriend in the gazebo, and teaches you and your siblings to sing while roaming around Salzburg, you know that everything will be alright even if you do have to sneak away from the Nazis in the middle of the night. When being a poor milkman in a poor Russian village is all you’ve ever known, you may sing about your wish to be a rich man but you also quite contentedly celebrate the ordinary milestones of life with your family and friends. And when you are living a hard knock life, at least you are able to sing about it as you scrub the orphanage floors with the hope that hard knocks aren’t all there is and life will get better one day.

This also holds true in the most depressing shows on the list.  The truly horrid conditions you’re living in don’t seem nearly so bad when you give your lifestyle a French name and sing about the best parts of it while dancing on a restaurant table surrounded by your friends. Likewise, the fact that you most likely won’t survive the night defending the barricade is insignificant next to the strong feelings of camaraderie and friendship between you and your compatriots as you sing with such conviction about the cause you all believe in so deeply.

It’s not a new idea, this desire to sing in order to lessen the effects of an otherwise depressing situation. In the Bible, Psalm after Psalm repeat a theme that goes something along the lines of, “I have enemies on every side and the outlook is really bad right now, but despite that I sing praises to God because I trust him and have hope that he will take care of everything.” It is a good lesson to heed, whether we take it from the Psalmist or our favorite stage actor: even when my soul is downcast and disturbed, I will yet sing, in praise my savior and God and to remind myself that life is never all bad.

Perspective II

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28)

From the very beginning of Falling Skies, one of the worst things about the invading alien force is the way they kidnap human children and attach “harnesses” (actually creatures from somewhere they had taken over previously) to them in order to control their actions, basically turning them into mindless slaves. In the early episodes of the show, one of the great accomplishments of the human survivors is figuring out how to remove the harnesses without killing the children.

By the third season, the humans have allied themselves with another alien race that had also been enslaved by the invaders, and one benefit of this alliance is the access to technology that lets them remove harnesses completely and safely from children who had been captured. It also allows them to take out the spikes left over in the backs of those who, like Ben Mason, had their harnesses removed before this advanced technology was available.

In the episode “At All Costs,” Ben must decide if he wants those spikes removed or not. On the one hand, he would really like to be a normal teenager again, with nothing that makes him stand out from the crowd. On the other hand, having the harness remnants gives him certain “superpowers” - superhuman strength, for one, and the ability for potential alien allies to speak through him and communicate with the humans. These abilities make him feel needed, like there is something useful he can do. He is no longer just a kid who is in the way and has to follow the directions of the adults. As Ben tells his younger brother, being harnessed was a bad thing, but the harness remnants allow him to do good.

In thinking about this situation, I find myself returning to what I said about Paul in a recent post about perspective in the novel Ender’s Game, but I think Ben's dilemma here is an even better parallel with Paul’s “thorn in the flesh” and how it affected his ministry. I don’t believe God causes bad things to happen to people. I do believe that he gives us the strength to carry on as we walk through those dark valleys, and also the ability to learn from our trials and put that knowledge to use once we reach the other side. Paul learned that weakness made him strong by forcing him to rely on God’s grace, just as Ben has learned that having the spikes gives him a greater purpose in his community.

We all have thorns of one kind or another, and negative circumstances are never easy to deal with. I can only pray that we will let God change our perspectives in these situations and help us to see the good we can do in spite of it all.

Recognition

He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?” Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.” Jesus said to her, “Mary.” She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means “Teacher”). (John 20:15-16)

Sarah Jane Smith is investigating the strange, sudden rise in test scores at a local school following a mysterious UFO sighting. So is a handsome stranger in an ill-fitting suit. One night they are both prowling the halls of the school looking for answers when Sarah Jane makes a discovery in a storage area: a familiar blue police box. Backing away from it, she walks past her fellow investigator and realizes just who he is. She has never seen this face before, but yet...she does recognize him. And he, of course, recognizes her. “Hello, Sarah Jane,” he says, and instantly she knows it’s the Doctor.

Mary had come with the other women on the first day of the week to complete the burial rituals that there had not been time to see to when Jesus died just before the onset of the Sabbath. When they arrive, however, the tomb is empty. Frantic and upset, she pleads with the gardener to tell her where the body has been taken, but it turns out he is not the gardener. “Mary,” he says, and once he says her name she looks up and immediately recognizes her teacher and friend.

Sarah Jane wasn't expecting to see the Doctor when she began investigating the school. “I waited for you and you didn't come back and I thought you must have died!” she tells him. Mary was expecting to see Jesus when she went to his tomb, but not in a state where he could stand there talking to her. We have the benefit of history and hindsight, so we are ready to see the Risen Savior on Easter morning, but there are other times that we are surprised to see God in our lives because we weren't expect to see him there.

Jesus was right where he said he would be three days after his crucifixion, so why were his followers so surprised to see an empty tomb? Not long after that, he said he would always be with us, so why does he have to call our names before we actually look around sometimes? My Easter prayer is that we might expect to see God in every situation, right where he said he would be.

Light in the Darkness

In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. (John 1:4-5, NIV)

As the eight travelers prepare to leave the elven forest of Lothlórien towards the end of The Fellowship of the Ring, Galadriel bestows special gifts upon each member of the company. To Frodo she gives something particularly useful: “‘In this phial,’ she said, ‘is caught the light of Eärendil’s star, set amid the waters of my fountain. It will shine still brighter when night is about you. May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out.’”

Much later in the journey, as Frodo nears his destination in Mordor, he and Sam find themselves in the darkest place they have ever encountered as they follow Gollum through a tunnel that he tells them is a shortcut to their destination. They are about to despair of ever escaping the vile blackness when suddenly Sam is reminded of what Frodo carries and urges his master to bring it out. As Frodo holds the Star-Glass aloft, “the darkness receded from it, until it seemed to shine in the centre of a globe of airy crystal, and the hand that held it sparkled with white fire. Frodo gazed in wonder at this marvellous gift that he had so long carried, not guessing its full worth and potency.” The power of this little bit of Elven light in the blackness of Shelob’s lair drives the great spider away from them and allows them to find the path through to the other side of the tunnel.

Even the tiniest of lights is powerful in a dark place. Whenever we walk in darkness, may we never forget the power of the Light of the World to show us the way safely to the other side, even when we feel like the Light is distant and small. And if we have forgotten the Light, may we always have with us a friend to help us remember.

Question Authority?

The people quarreled with Moses and said, “Give us water to drink.” Moses said to them, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?” But the people thirsted there for water; and the people complained against Moses and said, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” (Exodus 17:2-3)

It’s a hazard of leadership - no matter what you do, someone is going to be unhappy. And quite often, one very vocal somebody can turn an entire crowd against a leader who often has just been doing his or her best in a tough situation. Case in point: Tom Mason, the main character on the sci fi TV series Falling Skies. Before the alien attack he was a college history professor. In the aftermath, he finds himself in a leadership role, even being elected President of a remnant of the United States at one point. He works very hard to make decisions for the good of the entire group, but just as often as people look to him to get them through the continuing alien nightmare there are those who are constantly stirring up negative sentiment against him.

I don’t completely blame the alien attack survivors for not always trusting Mason’s leadership, nor do I completely blame the Israelites for lashing out against Moses. Both scenarios are extremely stressful, and stressful situations are not always known for bringing out the best in people, especially the longer the hardship goes on. When all hope seems to be gone and our faith and trust starts to wane because no good results seem to be forthcoming, we begin to take out our frustrations on the closest thing, whether that happens to be a former professor, a fellow Hebrew and former prince of Egypt, or even God himself.

So what do we do? How do we keep from becoming the grumblers and complainers and whiners? Maybe these stories remind us that instead of continuing to look through dirty, smudged glasses, we need to put on fresh “perspectacles” (my new favorite word, thanks to Glennon Melton) and look for all the good that has happened despite the stresses and hardships. How much sooner might the Israelites have reached the promised land if they had been grateful for the manna, for the quail, for the release from slavery, instead of constantly whinging about what they perceived to be lacking?

To be sure, it is easier said than done. But isn't it a goal worth striving towards?

Cheeky Women

But she came and knelt before him, saying, "Lord, help me." He answered, "It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs." She said, "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table." Then Jesus answered her, "Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish." And her daughter was healed instantly. (Matthew 15:25-28)

Princess Leia from Star Wars. Laura Hobson from Inspector Morse and Lewis. Donna Noble from Doctor Who. Three of my favorite female characters in film and television, and they all have something in common - these are three cheeky women. Strong women, yes, but more than that, they are quick-witted and ready with the snarky comeback in any situation - something I aspire to every time I think of the perfect retort hours after the conversation.

They can also be disinclined to take “no” for an answer. In “The Fires of Pompeii,” the Doctor insists that they must follow the old “You can’t rewrite history, not one line!” mantra. The volcano monster must be vanquished, even at the expense of the lives of the people of Pompeii, because history says that the town was destroyed in 79 AD and there’s nothing he can do to save them. Donna, on the other hand, sees this for the BS that it is - what’s the point of having a time machine if you can’t help people with it? For every argument that he has, she argues back, and they finally reach a compromise: they can’t save everyone, but they can at least save Caecilius and his family.

The gospel passage in the lectionary this week is an odd one. It’s hard to imagine Jesus turning away anyone who needed his help, regardless of where she’s from. Then again, if Jesus didn’t want to help non-Jews, he wouldn’t have been in the region of Tyre and Sidon to begin with, and he would have let his disciples turn the woman away like they wanted to do. Instead, he makes a comment that leaves the door wide open for this cheeky Canaanite to toss back a cheeky reply as she refuses to accept his first answer. Evidently that is enough to prove herself, for the end result is that she gets what she came for. Jesus said it was because of her faith, but I think I know better. And I think cheekiness is something I will aspire to in my spiritual life as well.

Upgrades

...if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For one believes with the heart and so is justified, and one confesses with the mouth and so is saved. The scripture says, "No one who believes in him will be put to shame." For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of all and is generous to all who call on him. For, "Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved." (Romans 10:9-13)

The Daleks and the Cybermen are the Doctor’s two most famous enemies, and both turn up in the season finale of the second series of New Who, a two-part story consisting of episodes “Army of Ghosts” and “Doomsday.” The Cybermen are the main villains in the story, suddenly appearing all over London, and indeed, all over the planet, in an attempt to take over the world.

The primary characteristics of Cybermen are their uniformity and their lack of emotion. Their mission is always to add to their own numbers by “upgrading” humans by turning them into what are basically organic robots, which to the Cybermen is a vast improvement over chaotic lives driven by an ever-changing array of feelings. In “Doomsday,” once the Cybermen are in place and starting to capture humans, the Cyberleader sends out a message to the world: 

“This broadcast is for humankind. Cybermen now occupy every landmass on this planet; but you need not fear. Cybermen will remove fear. Cybermen will remove sex, and class, and colour, and creed. You will become identical. You will become like us.”

It may seem strange to equate God with killer robots from a television show, but once you notice the similarities it’s really not a very difficult leap. God’s love is the great equalizer. Salvation is offered to everyone and everyone is capable of obtaining it -- all you have to do is believe. You don’t have to come from a certain place, you don’t have to be a certain ethnicity or gender or social class. And best of all, you don't have to give up any of your wonderfully messy human emotions.

Turning Away

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?...No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:35, 37-39)

The third series of the Doctor Who spinoff show Torchwood was a big departure from the edgy-yet-campy, monster-of-the-week format of the previous two series. “Children Of Earth” was a five-episode miniseries, and its tone was as different as its format. The Torchwood team, now down to just Captain Jack, Gwen, and Ianto, must find a way to save the world’s children from being taken by a sinister alien race.

Although it is set in the Doctor Who universe and is based around a crossover character, the Doctor’s former companion, Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood has virtually nothing to do with its parent show outside of just a few references. It is about a small team of people, armed with advanced (and often alien) technology who work together without outside help (especially from a certain Time Lord) to protect the earth from extra-terrestrial menaces. If you don’t know that it’s a Who spinoff, you might not even make the connection between the two shows - I certainly didn’t until I was well into the second series. Therefore, Gwen’s recorded message to whomever might discover her video, should the world come to an end as they fear it might, makes perfect sense.

"There's one thing I always meant to ask Jack, back in the old days,” she tells the camera. “I wanted to know about that Doctor of his. The man who appears out of nowhere and saves the world, except sometimes he doesn't. All those times in history when there was no sign of him. Why not? But I don't need to ask anymore. I know the answer now. Sometimes the Doctor must look at this planet and turn away in shame."

I have heard variations on this statement espoused by those who do not believe, or struggle to believe, in God - usually it goes something along the lines of, “If there is a God, why is there so much suffering in the world? Where was he when (insert current tragic event) was going on?”

It’s a valid question, and a difficult one to answer at the best of times. Hindsight is, as they say, 20/20, but what about when your vision is clouded in the moment and you’re not sure you’ll ever make it far enough to be able to look back? I am thankful that neither life nor death, nor rulers, nor future events, nor present troubles, nor distance (physical or otherwise), nor fears and doubts, not even the shameful things we do, individually and collectively, can separate us from the One who loves us and takes care of us whether we are aware of him or not.

Catastrophic Events

We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28)

In his essay called "On Fairy Stories," Tolkien coined a new word to describe an event at the end of a story that suddenly brings about a good resolution when all hope seems to be lost: eucatastrophe, which literally means "good catastrophe." A eucatastrophe is not the same as deus ex machina – it is an event that, while sometimes implausible or just in the nick of time, nevertheless has been set up earlier in the story and does make sense to the narrative, rather than being something completely new that suddenly appears out of the blue right when help is needed.

Eucatastrophes don't have to be positive events themselves. In fact, by definition it is still a catastrophe, no matter what good comes of it in the end. When we last saw Bilbo, he, Gandalf, Bard and the men of Lake-town, and the Wood-elves were trying to negotiate with Thorin and the dwarves for the portion of the treasure stolen from the men's ancestors. Thorin finally agreed to trade Bilbo's share of the treasure for the Arkenstone, but all sides knew that he had no intention of actually following through on his plan.

Now, the men and elves are besieging the Lonely Mountain fortress and Thorin's cousin Dain has just arrived with reinforcements for the dwarves. Battle between the two sides is now imminent and unavoidable. Into the midst of this tense situation, however, comes word of a more serious threat: Goblins from the Misty Mountains are on their way to avenge the death of the Great Goblin and many others of their compatriots at the hands of Gandalf, Thorin, and company towards the beginning of their journey. Tolkien tells us that "the Goblins were the foes of all, and at their coming all other quarrels were forgotten." Dwarves, men, and elves now band together to face the new threat and vanquish the evil that threatens them all, in the process forgetting what now seem to be petty squabbles.

The coming of the Goblin army is definitely a catastrophe – in the ensuing Battle of Five Armies, many allies' lives are lost (including Thorin's) and the Goblins almost win the day. The end result, however, is that the allies remain friends, compromises are reached, fences are mended, and alliances are strengthened. It is not merely a catastrophe, it is a eucatastrophe because many good things do come out of it.

Everyone experiences catastrophic events in their lives. The key lesson is to remember that God turns catastrophes into eucatastrophes. We may not recognize this until we look back after the fact, but even in the midst of negative circumstances we can still trust God to walk with us and we can have faith that better days are ahead.

Pruning and Growth

I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. (John 15:1-2)

At the beginning of the dwarves' incarceration at the hands of the Wood-elves, Bilbo is unsure of his ability to rescue them and longs for the help, or at least the advice, of the wizard Gandalf. However, "he soon realized that if anything was to be done, it would have to be done by Mr. Baggins, alone and unaided." And indeed, the hobbit is eventually able to put together a successful plan to rescue his companions.

Wearing his ring to stay invisible, Bilbo watches and waits and explores until he finally sees a possible solution to their plight. He then he creeps from cell to cell in the elves' dungeon, spreading the word to his incarcerated companions. Tolkien tells us that "the other dwarves quite agreed when they got the message….they all trusted Bilbo. Just what Gandalf had said would happen, you see. Perhaps that was part of his reason for going off and leaving them."

Just like many plants bear more fruit when they are pruned, people often grow more in hard times and through difficult situations. Gandalf knew that Bilbo would never step up and reach his full potential as a burglar and trusted traveling companion if he was always there to rescue them and get them out of sticky situations, and I believe God is the same. I think that sometimes we need to look for his answers through the gifts, spiritual and otherwise, that he has already given us, instead of waiting for things to magically change without any effort on our part. If sometimes God feels absent, maybe he has just stepped back in order to teach us faith and trust – perhaps sometimes that's his way of pruning away the old fears and insecurities that keep us from reaching our full potential. It's not pleasant, but it's the only way that we'll grow.

Hopeless

The thought of my affliction and my homelessness is wormwood and gall! My soul continually thinks of it and is bowed down within me. But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. (Lamentation 3:19-23)

Bilbo and his companions have been traveling on the dark path through Mirkwood Forest for days on end and their supplies of food and water are starting to run low. When Bilbo climbs a tree to try to see above the forest, all he sees are the tops of trees stretching endlessly in all directions. The dwarves hear the sounds of a hunting party in the woods nearby and several white deer run across their path, but they waste their last arrows in an unsuccessful attempt to bring them down. To make matters worse, when the first deer jumps over the black stream, it causes Bombur to fall in, after which the dwarves must carry his sleeping form until the enchantment wears off.

Tolkien describes their mood thus: "They were a gloomy party that night, and the gloom gathered still deeper on them in the following days. They had crossed the enchanted stream; but beyond it the path seemed to straggle on just as before, and in the forest they could see no change." Things are not as bad as they seem, however. Bilbo didn't know that when he climbed the tree, they were in a low spot, and if he had climbed a different tree closer to the top of the bowl, he could have seen that they were nearing the edge of the forest. The dwarves don't think very hard about their run-in with the white deer, either, but we find out that "if they had known more about it and considered the meaning of the hunt and the white deer that had appeared upon their path, they would have known that they were at last drawing towards the eastern edge, and would soon have come, if they could have kept up their courage and their hope, to thinner trees and places where the sunlight came again."

The problem, as Tolkien so aptly shows us, is that we don't always know important information when we are in the midst of a difficult situation. Lacking that information, we don't pay attention to the signs we do get that things are about to improve, or else we can't fully interpret those signs as harbingers of better things to come. It's no wonder that we, like the dwarves in Mirkwood, become gloomy and discouraged and hopeless when the way becomes dark and seemingly endless. We must remember that we don't have all the information right now, and that things may not be as hopeless as they seem. We must pay attention to the little things that can give us clues to better times ahead. Above all, we must trust God and remain hopeful as we remember the above words of Jeremiah that continue to remain true to this day.

Plan B

We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28)

The first major stop in the Dwarves' journey is at Rivendell, the "Last Homely House" before entering the wilderness. Elrond the Half-Elven is master of the house, and he proves instrumental in helping the Dwarves, both in pointing out crucial information on their map and in planning the best route to the Lonely Mountain. However, as Tolkien notes,

"Even the good plans of wise wizards like Gandalf and of good friends like Elrond go astray sometimes when you are off on dangerous adventures over the Edge of the Wild; and Gandalf was a wise enough wizard to know it.
"He knew that something unexpected might happen, and he hardly dared to hope that they would pass without fearful adventure over those great tall mountains with lonely peaks and valleys where no king ruled. They did not. All was well, until one day they met a thunderstorm – more than a thunderstorm, a thunder-battle."

This enormous thunderstorm caused them to seek shelter in a mountain cave, which, as it turns out, had not been as thoroughly checked out as the dwarves who found it had claimed. While they are sleeping, a crack opens up in the back wall and a band of goblins kidnaps them and takes them into their tunnels far below the mountains. Everything turns out alright in the end, though not before some harrowing escapes from the Goblins' clutches. The dwarves come out of the goblin caves on the other side of the mountains, and it is while lost in the caves that Bilbo finds the magic ring that is vital to his later success as a burglar.

It is not unusual for things not to go according to plan, as we all know. In life it helps sometimes to have a plan B to fall back on and to be flexible in case we have to do something else. It is comforting to realize, however, that whatever happens, God will use those circumstances to bring about a greater good than we are able to imagine at the time as things fall apart around our ears. We may not be able to see that far ahead, but we can have faith that eventually that light really will be the end of the tunnel and not an oncoming train!

 

Hats and Handkerchiefs

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? (Matthew 6:25)

After spending an entire evening playing host to a troupe of dwarves who seem to think he is a burglar that is going to help them reclaim their treasure, Bilbo awakes late in the morning, hoping to find that it had all been a bad dream. When Gandalf finds him, he is finally sitting down to second breakfast after having washed up the breakfast dishes left by his guests in their haste to depart (proof that it hadn't been a dream, after all) and setting his hobbit hole back to rights. The wizard has come to see what is keeping Bilbo, because the dwarves are expecting him to meet them very soon – in fifteen minutes, actually. Bilbo rushes out the door to get to the inn in time, and once he arrives and meets up with the dwarves, he realizes that he is completely unprepared for the journey – he has no walking stick, no money, no hat, not even a pocket-handkerchief. "You will have to manage without pocket-handkerchiefs, and a good many other things, before you get to the journey's end," Dwalin tells him. 

Dwalin also helps him out, though – he loans Bilbo his spare cloak and hood so that he has something to cover his head. Later, Gandalf joins them, bringing Bilbo not only a supply of handkerchiefs but also his pipe and tobacco, a creature comfort that Bilbo hadn't yet realized was lacking.

This is a relatively minor episode in the book, but it demonstrates a truth I have seen in many different situations: God provides. When something is needed, someone shows up with it. If someone doesn't show up with what is needed, they show up with something else that ends up filling the bill even better than the originally-hoped-for item. Sometimes, people even show up to help with something just before the need makes itself known. It is something that I have seen happen over and over again, and I pray that I will remember this when I start to doubt that God will help me through the difficult situations in my own life.

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.

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.

Sightings

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them and the glory of the Lord shone round about them; and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly, there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. (Luke 2:8-14)

I was flipping through a notebook the other day and came across something I wrote who knows how long ago – I have had the notebook since college, I think. At any rate, I decided it would be an appropriate Christmas thought since this blog does, after all, purport to be science fiction-related…

I wish you all a Blessed and Geeky Christmas.
~The Geeky Squirrel
  

Sightings

Lights in the sky. Floating , weaving, hovering. One, then many – UFO's. Little green men, or gray men, or not men, really, but humans cope by likening the unknown to the known.
Hermit in the desert. Dirty, unkempt, unshaven. Alone, outcast, living in his shabby trailer. No contact with others, much, because they shun him, mostly.
Crazy, they say. Sees things – lights in the sky, little green men, UFO's, and all. Living alone in the middle of nowhere does things to your mind. Why should anyone listen to him? Most don't.
But I'm not crazy! he declares. Listen to me, I know what I saw! Come out and see, maybe they'll return. Don't you know that the truth is out there?
Still they shake their heads, still they laugh, still they pity.

 
Lights in the sky. Floating, weaving, hovering. One, then many – angels. Bright, white, blinding men, men with wings, heavenly beings, not even men, but humans cope by likening the unknown to the known.
Shepherds in the hills. Dirty, unkempt, unshaven. Alone, outcast, living out with the sheep in their care. Not much contact with anyone other than each other and their animals, because they are shunned, mostly.
Crazy, they say. Seeing things – angels and all. Having no one to talk to but sheep gets to you eventually. Why should anyone listen? Many still won't.
But we're not crazy! they shout. Right where they said, down there in the stable. There in Bethlehem, go see for yourself. A baby in a manger, don't you believe?
Still they shake their heads, still they laugh, still they ignore.

 
Still He opens his arms, still He welcomes, still He waits, still He smiles at those who do believe.

Wait For Iiiiiit…

They went through the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been forbidden by the Holy Spirit to speak the word in Asia. When they had come opposite Mysia, they attempted to go into Bithinia, but the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them; so, passing by Mysia, they went down to Troas. (Acts 16:6-8)

I keep coming back to "The God Complex" from the most recent season of Doctor Who – the longer it simmers in my brain, the more I discover within its many layers and complexities. I decided to revisit the awful hotel one more time because of a recent Sunday School lesson where we studied the scripture passage above.

Throughout the episode, various characters find "their" hotel room and use whatever faith they have to overcome the fearful thing or situation contained within. Doing so eventually alerts the creature, who kills them after feeding on their faith. The situation is summed up by Joe the gambler, whose faith in luck has evidently helped him overcome his fear of ventriloquist dummies because he is now surrounded by an army of them. He tells the Doctor, "I've seen the light. I've lived a blasphemous life but he's forgiven my inconstancy and soon he shall feast."

"But you've been here for two days," replies the Doctor. "What is he waiting for?"

"We weren't ready. We were still raw."

"But now you're what…cooked?"

"If you like. Soon you will be, too. Be patient."

The message that we take away from both TV and the Bible is this: faith is important, but so is timing. Paul was eager to spread the gospel to Asia and Mysia and Bithinia, but God said no, not now. Not yet. In Sunday School, we speculated that perhaps God was waiting for the people there to be ready to receive the message before he sent someone to give it to them. Or perhaps the messengers themselves weren't yet ready. At any rate, we're led to believe that if someone had gone just then, the message wouldn't have taken hold and God's will wouldn't have been done.

God's timing is a great mystery, and sometimes waiting on him to give the "go" for something is exceedingly frustrating. Patience is not an easy thing, but it is necessary because rawness in this case is detrimental to the overall mission. Fortunately, though, if we have the patience and faith to wait for the right time, we are the ones who will feast on the abundant blessings God has in store for us.

A Good Blaster at Your Side

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Indeed, by faith our ancestors received approval. By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was made from things that are not visible. (Hebrews 11:1-3)

In the Doctor Who episode "The God Complex" that I wrote about last week, when the Doctor finally figures out that the monster feeds on people's faiths and not their fears, he gives as evidence the fact that Rory never seems to be in danger. The Doctor attributes this to the fact that Rory is not superstitious or religious – he doesn't seem to have any kind of faith. I don't think that's true, though. Everyone has faith in something. Take, for instance, two key conversations from Star Wars. In the first, during a meeting of Imperial leaders aboard the Death Star, Darth Vader and Admiral Motti have differing opinions about the best course of action:

Motti: Any attack made by the rebels against this station would be a useless gesture, no matter what technical data they've obtained. This station is now the ultimate power in the universe. I suggest we use it.
Vader: Don't be too proud of this technological terror you've constructed. The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force.
Motti: Don't try to frighten us with your sorcerer's ways, Lord Vader. Your sad devotion to that ancient religion has not helped you conjure up the stolen data tapes or given you clairvoyance enough to find the rebels' hidden fortress…
[Admiral Motti chokes as Vader uses the Force to strangle him from across the room]
Vader: I find your lack of faith disturbing.

In the second conversation, on board the Millennium Falcon, Han Solo has been watching Obi-Wan teach Luke how to use at lightsaber:

Han: Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side, kid.
Luke: You don't believe in the Force, do you?
Han: Kid, I've flown from one side of this galaxy to the other. I've seen a lot of strange stuff, but I've never seen anything to make me believe there's one all-powerful force controlling everything. There's no mystical energy field controls my destiny. It's all a lot of simple tricks and nonsense.

Admiral Motti and Han Solo are both set up as non-believers in these two scenes, but in both cases it is clear that they do believe in something – for Motti, it's technology and the power of the Death Star, and for Han it's also technology and weaponry, in addition to his own wits and skills. Both men put their trust in things seen and handled and personally experienced rather than some abstract, nebulous, god-like "force," like Luke and Obi-Wan and Vader do. In Admiral Motti's case particularly, it turns out to be misplaced trust in the end when the Rebel Alliance manages to blow up his "ultimate power in the universe."

I think I am like Han Solo more often than I realize or would wish to admit. I'm not nearly as cool as he is, but I am hard-headed and independent and want to do things myself. I want to take care of myself; I want to make things happen by myself. I don't have a good blaster at my side, but I do have my wits and my smarts. I would do well to remember that my abilities are insignificant next to the power of God, and that he is in control and I don't have to do it all on my own all the time.

 

Praise Him!

Vindicate me, O Lord,
for I have walked in my integrity,
and I have trusted in the Lord without wavering.
Prove me, O Lord, and try me;
test my heart and mind.
For your steadfast love is before my eyes,
and I walk in faithfulness to you.
(Psalm 26:1-3)

In the Doctor Who episode entitled "The God Complex," The Doctor, Amy, and Rory exit the TARDIS to find themselves in a hotel with outdated décor, bad elevator music coming over the speakers, and corridors that shift when you're not looking. When they look inside various rooms, they find strange things, like people in gorilla costumes, sad clowns, popular-looking girls hurling insults, and the scariest of new Who monsters, the Weeping Angels.

Pretty soon they meet up with a group of other people who also appear to be trapped in the hotel with them, and they learn that it seems to be like the Hotel California – you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave. Also, there is a monster roaming the labyrinthine hallways that eventually finds and kills everyone who ends up there. The strange things in the hotel rooms are someone's greatest fear, and there is a room for everyone. The catch is, once you find your room and face your fear, bad things start to happen and eventually, no matter how long you try to hold out, the monster will come and get you. They assume that the monster feeds on fear, and when you find the thing you fear the most, it will cause the monster to come get you, so it's best if you do not find your room in the hotel.

After three out of the four people there are killed by the monster, though, despite everything the Doctor has done to try to protect them, he finally figures it out: the monster doesn't feed on fear, it feeds on faith. When facing whatever scary thing was in their room, they relied on faith to overcome the fear, and that's what attracts the monster. Everyone who has died had faith in one form or another: Rita was Muslim, Joe the gambler believed in luck, and Howie was always trying to convince everyone who would listen that everything was part of one big conspiracy. Things come to a head when Amy finds her room and begins to show signs that the monster will soon be coming for her. The Doctor realizes that to save her and defeat the monster, he had to make her lose her faith, which was represented in her room by her child-self, little Amelia, sitting on her suitcase waiting for her Raggedy Doctor to come back. Ever since that night when she was eight years old, Amy had faith that the Doctor would return, and when he did, through all their adventures, she always had faith that whatever happened, the Doctor would save her, solve all the problems, and make sure everything turned out ok. She had even said as much throughout the episode to whomever would listen.

What a heart-wrenching scene when the Doctor, so gently and tenderly, explained to Amy that he wasn't the all-powerful alien creature that she put all of her trust in. He didn't always save the day, and he had caused death and destruction more often than not. He really was, as he had been telling her all along, a madman with a box, nothing more.

It has been a month since "The God Complex" aired, and it has taken me this long (and a second viewing) to make sense of what was really happening. At first I was trying to puzzle out what it was saying about having faith (or not) and losing faith. I have finally decided, however, that it is about misplaced trust and having faith in the wrong things. Amy placed her trust in the Doctor, and when the Doctor finally recognized this, it took quite an effort for him to convince her otherwise. It was necessary, however, for her to realize that the Doctor wasn't God, no matter how often his "God complex" (as Rita labeled it earlier in the episode) manifests itself.

Fortunately, faith in God is never misplaced trust. When I looked up "faith" in the concordance of my Bible to find a verse with which to preface this post, I noticed something interesting: all of the verses cited as containing the word "faith" used it in the context of humans having faith in God, but more than half of the verses given in the entries for "faithful" and "faithfulness" use those words to describe God and his attitude toward people, not the other way around. To me, that speaks volumes about what we should have faith in: the One whose faith in us never wavers, even when our faith does.