I’ve been pondering Hobbits this morning. More specifically, I’ve been pondering
Frodo.
Frodo Baggins: ring bearer and
heralded hero of Middle Earth. For all
intents and purposes, a great guy… er, Hobbit.
Yet I find myself not all that fond of said great Hobbit. I don’t like his whininess. Irritating!
And his “poor little me, I have such a great burden to carry” victim
mentality. I just find myself wanting to
say, “Suck it up, Hobbit boy!” Why can’t
he be more like Samwise Gamgee? Sam: loyal friend; one who makes moving
inspirational speeches; he who does not whine along the journey. In my opinion, Sam is the true hero of Middle
Earth. If I were a Hobbit, I’d so be
Samwise Gamgee.
Were I to be honest, however, I’d have to admit that I do,
in fact, have Frodo-like tendencies. While
I’d like to think that after nearly forty years on earth, I’ve mastered the ability
to speak in languages other than whine, I can still throw the grandest of
adult-style temper tantrums. When things
aren’t too my liking, the spirit of whine can certainly manifest itself in my
words and actions whether or not it’s nerve cutting edge is in my voice. Complaints come forth from my lips, albeit “maturely”
dressed up in the robes of “venting” or “stating the facts.” I can still play the victim with the best of
them, although I will often adopt the more grown-up version and become the
martyr instead. Horrors! I AM
Frodo! And I hate that. Especially when others applaud some valiancy
on my part. Sure, I enjoy accolades as
much as the next guy, but what a fraud I am!
I mean, really! People telling
me, “Well done! Good job! Way to go!”
When they have absolutely no idea that, time and again along the way, I blew
it. I whined. I simultaneously griped about the burden I bore
while refusing help offered to bear it. If
they only knew.
But then I notice God himself is at the helm of the
cheerleading! One would think that would
cause one to glow with pride. But I want
to yell, “No, God! Don’t you see?! I’m so NOT
Samwise Gamgee! I’m Frodo!” And I feel guilty. Unworthy.
Much less than heroic. Perhaps
epic, but only as it pertains to failure.
The thing about feelings, though, is that they’re so fickle
and shouldn’t be trusted as indicators of truth. The facts- even when my feelings don’t line
up with them- are:
1. I only fail when I stop. I stumble and fumble and trip up. I whine and gripe and mess up. But when I continue to press on, continue to
care, continue to cry out to God with every misstep (and also sing and dance
with him when I nail it), I’m not failing.
I’m learning, and I’m changing, and I’m growing.
2. I am
Frodo. And I am Sam. Well, actually, I’m Lisa. And that means that I’m a beautiful, messy,
wonderful paradoxical being. As a friend
of Jesus, I exist in that “already but not yet” state. I’ve already been redeemed, and God already
sees me through a “Jesus lens”, as I tell my children. I’m already made right with God because of
Jesus’ demonstration of love. But unlike
God, I live within the boundaries of time.
So I’m living out the “not yet” part of my existence, walking out the “becoming”. I don’t yet see the complete picture.
So, like Frodo, I won’t always handle my journey with the
utmost grace and dignity. I’ll falter
here, trip there, snap at people on occasion and complain about how arduous
things are. But God sees through all
that. He knows that the desire of my
heart is to be like Sam, loving and loyal and kind. Not only does he know that’s my desire, he
knows it’s my true, God-created nature that came into existence when I chose
life with Jesus. I’m someone totally
brand new! And my life is an adventure
of discovering who that is. I say, let’s
bring it!
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