Dr. BJ Condrey

It might surprise some that I have never read the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I am not proud to admit it. I have loved the movies for a long time. What is my problem? For starters, I hated to read until age 20 and then never developed a “taste” for fiction (until recently).

Over the past few years, I have actively worked to embrace fiction and have come to deeply appreciate its unique impact. While philosophy, theology, and ethics can often feel dry and formal, fiction possesses a rare ability to draw us in, expand our imaginations, and challenge our presuppositions—perhaps even more effectively because we tend to approach fiction with our guard down. It has a way of sneaking up on us, whispering, “Might things be different than you once believed?” Fiction, if anything, has the power to “re-enchant” our view of reality and question our worldview in a society that persistently celebrates a materialistic perspective. That perspective feels safe, yet fiction hints at the possibility of other worlds—a notion at the heart of many religions and iconic stories, from the wardrobe in The Chronicles of Narnia to Platform 9 ¾ in Harry Potter.

In light of this, I am now reading The Two Towers. It is delightful. In the same vein as Solomon (Proverbs), Aristotle (The Nicomachean Ethics), C.S. Lewis (The Four Loves), and so many others, Tolkien highlights both the role and power of friends to help us on our journey. You can’t make it alone, and if someone thinks that they can, it is further evidence of how much they are not making it.

This brings me to the point of this blog—a wonderful quote by Legolas. Legolas in The Lord of the Rings is a Sindarin Elf of the Woodland Realm. After the Fellowship of the Ring—nine individuals—were split into multiple factions after being attacked by Orcs, Aragorn (human), Gimli (dwarf), and Legolas begin a wearisome and seemingly hopeless pursuit of Merry and Pippin. After entering the forest of Fangorn, they come to a point where they realize that they could have saved a ton of time if they would have taken a different route. Legolas then says: “Few can foresee whither their road will lead them, till they come to its end.”

When I read this, I paused. This resonated with me because it has proved true so often in my own life. Similar to Scripture, I found myself revisiting this over and over again the next few days. It is a beautiful reminder in the Christian faith that God is always at work providentially, doing things now that may not be plain—or even make sense—for weeks or months or years to decades. We might never know until we stand before him. Of course, then we will probably only care to know him and the existential questions that so often scraped at our minds and tore at our hearts on this side of the grave will most likely disintegrate in his lovely presence. Questions are probably only important to us now.

These words bring my heart comfort. While I love the words of Scripture, reading truths in a different context can freshly awaken our hearts to the truth. This is what happened for me. I like the particular way that Tolkien expressed this truth through the character Legolas, and it strengthens my heart to know that there are adventures and surprises that await—some of which will be very hard—because an active, loving, and purposeful God is at work.

So, while God’s paths rarely lead where we expect in this life, we can love God and others, follow each step He commands, and live with a confident expectation that He is working for His glory and our good—two sides of the same coin.