My husband and I recently sat in the comfort of our apartment, and watched the movie trilogy of The Lord of the Rings. I’ve read the books several times, and enjoyed the movie several times, as well. The story is a classic tale of good v. evil, where it looks almost impossible for good to triumph. But, through the courageous acts of a few unlikely heroes (with the help of many others), evil is destroyed at last, and peace–eventually– returns to Middle Earth. It is one of my favorite stories, but it is not always “comfortable.”
The books and movies can be almost torture to watch, sometimes. There are battles, and betrayals, tragedies, and frustrations galore. From the midges that attack the party near the beginning of their journey, to the Ring Wraiths who relentlessly haunt Frodo as he carries the ring of power to its final end; from the unnatural armies of the Uruk-Hai, created by the betrayer Saruman, to the betrayal of Boromir from within their own fellowship; from the fall of Gandalf in the mines of Moria to the madness of Denethor in Gondor–there are plenty of times that the reader/viewer is tempted to turn away from such agony and despair. How could there be a “happy” ending? How could Frodo and Sam possibly survive long enough to finish the task, let alone return from it?
And yet, Sam himself provides an answer:
Yes, that’s so,’ said Sam. ‘And we shouldn’t be here at all, if we’d known more about it before we started. But I suppose it’s often that way. The brave things in the oldtales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that’s not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually – their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn’t. And if they had, we shouldn’t know, because they’d have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on – and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same – like old Mr Bilbo. But those aren’t always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale we’ve fallen into?’ ‘I wonder,’ said Frodo. ‘But I don’t know. And that’s the way of a real tale. Take any one that you’re fond of. You may know, or guess, what kind of a tale it is, happy-ending or sad-ending, but the people in it don’t know. And you don’t want them to.’ https://thetolkien.forum/wiki/Sams-Speech
Movie version:
Often, when I am facing “an adventure,” I am praying for God to take away the circumstances; to change the world around me, so I can be comfortable. I love to read stories, but I don’t want to live through what it might take to make a great one! And yet, God calls us to “be strong and courageous” (Joshua 1:9). Jesus calls us to be courageous as well, “In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33b). And Paul reminds his protege, Timothy, that “God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but of power and love and discipline.” (2 Timothy 1:7)
In the movie version of Lord of the Rings, the four courageous hobbits return to the Shire after all the fighting to find things almost exactly as they had left them– hobbits comfortably going about their business, oblivious to the grand and terrible adventures of their neighbors and the rest of the world. Hobbits, we are told early on, do not concern themselves with the “adventures” of the wider world. They like comfort. And the Shire, in some ways, represents a haven from the evils of the world of men and orcs and other creatures. In the books, however, evil spills over into the Shire, and the hobbits must face battles even when they expect to return to comfort.
Comfort is a wonderful feeling– ease and peace, no reason to worry or fret. Everything is familiar and good, expected, and desired. But comfort doesn’t build character. Courage does. Frodo and Sam, Merry and Pippin, all return to the Shire changed by their adventures. They are no longer “comfortable” living in ignorance of the wider world, no longer afraid of what might happen if they step beyond the borders of the Shire.
The same is true for us as Christ followers. Jesus commands us to Go into all the world. He does not promise comfort, in fact, He promises that we WILL have trouble. But He also promises that we will not face danger alone; and that we will see victory– His final victory. We DO know the end of the story! We do not know what tomorrow may bring, but we DO know that it won’t end in futility. Even our disasters will be redeemed! Even if tomorrow brings tragedy, grief, pain, or torture, we know it is not the way our story ends. But we must face tomorrow with courage. We must continue on THROUGH the story, even when it looks like we can’t go on. Courage, not comfort, will lead us to the victory.
Today, I pray that God will forgive me for the times I have asked for comfort and not for courage. For the times I have stayed in the Shire, instead of going forth to face the battles beyond. For the times I have been too afraid, or just too lazy, to obey His call to GO and be a light in this dark world.
I don’t know about anyone else, but this phrase always made me feel uncomfortable. Growing up, I thought of rods and staffs (staves?) the same way I thought of the teacher’s wooden paddle at school– something to be avoided at all costs. They didn’t comfort me one bit; instead, they inspired fear and loathing. “Spare the rod and spoil the child (Proverbs 13:24)*,” meant that someone was due for a spanking. Spanking was in fashion when I was young, though my parents used it extremely rarely, and the dreaded teacher’s paddle never touched my tiny terrified tush. A rod, staff, switch, paddle, or hand– all were threats of punishment– sometimes inspiring fear and even resentment.
And yet, in all my youth, I never stood in fear of my parents. They never beat me, or spanked me without cause, or withheld loving forgiveness and reconciliation. Their discipline, which rested almost exclusively with other methods, was for my benefit– teaching me to respect just authority, recognize the limits of my will, and develop patience, compassion, and responsible behavior.
God does not hold the rod and staff as instruments of terror. God’s love and wisdom are infinitely greater than the love and wisdom of human parents. And God’s sovereignty and authority are infinitely greater than that of any ruler or earthly power we know. God’s rod and staff are not weapons to be used against us. Instead, they are the symbols of authority and tools of our Good Shepherd. His staff is like the scepter of the King of Kings, or the staff of a warrior. He will gently use the rod to direct our steps or keep us from going off the path. And he will use the staff to protect us from the advances of the enemy. He has the authority to use these tools, and the grace and wisdom to use them for our good.
During times of trial and confusion, the Shepherd’s authority should bring us enormous comfort. When disease and fear are closing in, when we travel down the valley of the shadow of death, when evil seems to be prowling, stalking, and ready to pounce– we have a Shepherd who has every resource to keep them from devouring us. Circumstances like the current pandemic are not sent by God to terrorize us. In fact, God holds the rod and staff in hand– He has set the limits of COVID-19; He has provided (and will provide) opportunities for us to learn many good lessons and see many astonishing developments– treatments, protocols, cooperative efforts– that will be for our ongoing benefit; for those who do get ill, suffer loss, or even die from COVID-19, He gives grace and peace to those who seek Him. He comforts us in ways that go beyond our natural understanding.
One of my favorite stories is The Lord of the Rings, by J.R.R. Tolkein. In this saga, the wizard, Gandalf, always carries a staff. It looks harmless enough– a walking stick in the hands of an old man. But when faced with an enemy, or when members of the Fellowship are threatened, Gandalf uses his staff effectively to chase away shadows, defend his friends, and battle the most fearsome of monsters. Gandalf is no threat to the frightened Hobbits, or even to the mad king Theoden. But to the traitorous Saruman and wicked steward, Denethor, he stands in fearless opposition. That doesn’t mean that the Hobbits never face danger or that Gandalf fights all their battles for them. And, because Gandalf is not all-powerful and omniscient, he cannot guarantee their ultimate victory. But his presence is enough to instill hope and comfort wherever he goes.
God will let us see uncertain days– days when things look grim and we don’t see how anything good can come of our circumstances. But one thing is certain–our God is ever-present, and more than able to bring us hope, peace beyond understanding, joy, and comfort along the way– no matter, where; no matter what!
Note–If we see the “rod” and “staff” only as instruments of punishment, we are missing the point of this proverb. If we “spare” the rod of authority– never providing discipline and correction or teaching respect and responsibility– that is when we spoil the child. And whatever one’s views about corporal punishment, it should never be used to promote terror or abuse.
Pursuing Prayer 