Flowers Springing Up in the Rain
In the past couple of years I have learned more about cemeteries than I would ever have cared to know. I have learned about purchasing plots and commissioning monuments. I have learned about proper etiquette and how different cultures relate to their dearly departed in very different ways. I have learned that a grave offers a place to go to grieve and, as importantly, a place to leave grief behind for a time.
One thing we learned quickly is that while a cemetery will take great care in burying a loved one, raising a monument, and sodding over the stark, bare earth, they will take very little care in watering that grass or ensuring that it grows and thrives. Once the grave is closed and the grass replaced, they will offer only the barest maintenance. That’s true, at least, of the cemetery we chose for our son.
We cannot tolerate the thought of Nick’s grave being covered in dry, brown grass. We cannot tolerate the thought of it becoming overgrown with weeds. We cannot tolerate the thought of it looking overlooked and abandoned. And so we tend to it with great care. We visit it regularly. We water it diligently. We maintain a tiny garden that sits up against the gravestone, adapting it to the seasons.
I might have been tempted to believe that grass would grow best if was only ever sunny and that flowers would thrive best under the constant glare of the sun. I might have been tempted to believe that days of gloom and cloud would slow progress and inhibit growth. But I have come to observe that this is not the case, for clouds bring rain and rain brings life. Meanwhile, unbroken sun quickly dries the ground and leaves it parched. We have come to look forward to dark skies and brooding clouds, for we know the grass will soon be greener, the flowers brighter and straighter, all of it more colorful and more beautiful.
You and I are not too different from grass and flowers, for as God sees fit to have them grow through sun and rain, he sees fit to have us grow through joy and grief. As it is his will that they display their beauty through good weather and bad, it is his will that we display our beauty through easy times and difficult. The beauty he wishes for us to display is the beauty of character that is heavenly rather than worldly, that is divine rather than so naturally human.
Such character does not come easily to us, for we enter the Christian life with long-established patterns of sinfulness and selfishness, of caring much for ourselves and little for others. For our lives to display godly beauty, we must be changed, we must be transformed. And this kind of transformation needs more than ease, more than merely good times.
For this reason God leads us into times of grief and sorrow, times of sickness and loss, times of pain and persecution. He knows that for us to truly thrive in this world and for us to truly be fit for what lies beyond it, we need both sun and rain, both joy and sorrow. In the bright sun of the best of times we may grow in love and joy and peace and patience, for these virtues tend to be the ones that spring up first and bloom fastest. But it is often only in the dark gloom of the worst of times that we grow in kindness and gentleness and self-control, for virtues like these tend to grow slowly and only under specific conditions. If we are to be the Christians God wishes us to be, we must have sun and rain, clear days and cloudy.
And so, as we approach times of sorrow and suffering, when they sweep over us with all their pain and all their tears, all their agony and all their uncertainty, we never need fear that God has forgotten us or forsaken us. We never need fear that we will emerge worse than we entered in. For God has ordained that these times are necessary for our growth, necessary for us to take on the beauty of godly character. God has ordained that we will be like flowers—flowers that spring up in the rain.
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What I Long for More than Miracles
I suppose it is possible that I have witnessed a miracle in my lifetime, but if so, I’m not aware of it. If a miracle is a “supernatural, extraordinary event that diverges from observed natural processes,” then I can’t think of a time that I’ve seen a clear example of one. That’s not to say that God can’t work miracles today or that he doesn’t. That’s not to say he hasn’t worked around and about me in extraordinary ways. It’s simply to say that I can’t look at a particular event in my life and say, “That was a miracle.”
And if I’m honest, this doesn’t bother me in the least. It doesn’t bother me in the least because on many occasions I’ve witnessed something I count equally significant or perhaps even more so: I have witnessed the evidence and the intricacy and the perfect timing of God’s providence. I have witnessed how God has carefully arranged circumstances so that events unfolded in a way that proved his detailed involvement in the affairs of man. I have witnessed situations in which things “just so happened” in such a way that I could only conclude, “The Lord did this.”
I recount one of these in Seasons of Sorrow, in the chapter I title “Angels Unaware.” I tell of a day when Aileen and I were particularly sorrowful, particularly overcome with grief. We went to the cemetery to mark what would have been Nick’s wedding day. And as we stood there weeping together, a lovely Christian couple approached us and explained that they had been reading my updates. They showed us where their son was buried nearby and then they prayed for us—prayed down God’s comfort upon us.
This was no miracle. This was not a supernatural, extraordinary event that diverged from observed natural processes. God did not summon these people from heaven or fabricate them from thin air or instantly transport them from afar. Rather, he arranged that they would visit their son’s grave on this day and at this time (even though this was not their custom) and that Aileen and I would visit our son’s grave on this day and at this time (even though this was not our custom). Long prior to this he had arranged that our sons would be buried close to one another—close enough that this couple would spot us across just a few rows of graves. He had arranged that they would be familiar with my website and with our story and that they would recognize our faces. He arranged all this so that, when we most needed comfort, two of his people would be there to provide it.
Think of all the threads that needed to be woven together for this one circumstance to occur—the events that needed to take place, the decisions that needed to be made, the schedules that needed to be aligned. As we parted ways that day, Aileen and I both knew without the smallest shadow of a doubt: God did this. In fact, Aileen has often said that this was the very moment she really understood that God was caring for us in our loss. And it was not through a miracle, but through providence.
Though I don’t recount it in the book, a similar situation happened a short time later. I had another especially difficult day and once again needed to be near Nick. I went alone this time, parked on the little roadway at the cemetery, and got out of my car. And I “just so happened” to see one of our deacons and his wife sitting in their car, about to drive off. They “just so happened” to have visited Nick’s grave on that day and to be there at that moment. So I walked over to their car and said, “I’m having a hard day. Will you pray for me?” And they did, of course. And again, I knew that God had been present through his providence. I knew that he had arranged this for my benefit and as a display of his love.
I can look back on life and recount more stories—stories in which God worked providentially rather than miraculously. I could tell of the evening I visited a friend and “just so happened” to cross paths with one of his neighbors, a girl who was out playing a game with some of the local kids. A few months later I began twelfth grade at a new school and who should plunk herself down in the seat ahead of me in my very first class, but that very same girl. We became friends, I introduced her to Christ, and our next wedding anniversary will be our twenty-fifth. And it all began and unfolded not through miracles but through providence—through God’s deliberate and intricate coordinating of the circumstances of different people and different places and different times.
I once spent my lunch break on a walk in which I was agonizing over whether I should resign from my job to start my own business and dedicate more of my time to writing. When I got back to my desk my manager summoned me to his office, told me I was being laid off, and handed me a severance check. Providence. I once “randomly” clicked a link on my blog which led to a pastor who would become a dear friend and whose church my family would settle into and come to serve. Providence. I once had my car break down in an extremely dangerous spot on the highway and during a terrible rainstorm, only to see that a tow truck had been right behind me. Providence. Time and again my life has testified to the beauty of God’s providence.
The reason I share this is that I know of many Christians who crave miracles and who long to see one. They long to see a miracle because they are convinced it will buoy their faith and increase their confidence in God. And while the Bible does not forbid us from longing for miracles, neither does it instruct us to. It makes no promises that we will witness one and does not associate the presence or strength of our faith with them. (If anything, it does the opposite.) But wouldn’t it be tragic if we spent our lives searching for miracles while overlooking providence? Wouldn’t it be tragic if God was working wondrously in us, and for us, and through us, and around us—and we missed it because he chose not to work miraculously?
I am not saying we should not pray for miracles. That’s perhaps especially true when praying for those whose diagnosis is dire or whose situation is tragic and for whom nothing but a miracle can save. But I am saying that God’s power is displayed around us in ways that are equally significant and perhaps even more awe-inspiring if only we will look and observe and recount. For while God occasionally displays his glory through miracles, he far more commonly displays it through the beauty of providence. Look for it and you will see it; see it and you will praise him for it. -
On What Basis Could The Rings of Power Completely Fail?
I first encountered The Lord of the Rings during the loneliest year of my childhood. My family had moved, my friends had been left behind, and I was lonely. The one friend I did make that year was an avid fan of the books and pleaded with me to read them. I did so and quickly got swept up into a world that transported me far beyond my problems. That was the first, though certainly not the last, time I read my way through the series.
And though I’m not one of those super-fans who knows every fact of this fictional world (or, like an uncle of mine, who has gone to the trouble of learning Elvish), I do appreciate the books and the films that were generally faithful to them. And it’s probably for that reason that I have been dreading the long-awaited series. I have been dreading it because, as much as I love what Tolkien created, I have long feared that this series would make a mockery of it. This is, after all, 2022. And the series is made, after all, by Amazon. That’s not an encouraging combination.
Before I settled in to watch episode one of The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power, I tried to corral my skeptical thoughts and consider this: What could make the series utterly fail in my mind? I already know it’s not truly Tolkien’s story, but rather bits and pieces of material that exists peripherally to The Lord of the Rings (i.e. the “legendarium”). I already know that while it’s generally set in the world he created, only some of what it describes ever entered his mind and flowed through his pen. I already know it means to emphasize themes that are important in 2022 but that were of little importance to Tolkien the better part of a century earlier. So what could make it completely fail? I decided this: it would fail if it was set in a different moral universe than Tolkien’s books. I could tolerate some made-up creatures and some re-imagined characters, but I couldn’t tolerate a wholly different morality.
Part of the beauty and attraction of The Lord of the Rings is that it is set in a universe in which the mythology, lands, and races are fantasy, but in which the morality rings with familiarity. It is a universe that delights us with its imaginative differences and yet challenges us with its moral similarities. Any Christian, and indeed, anyone familiar with the modern Western world, will recognize that Tolkien’s understanding of morality was shaped by Scripture. We see this in many ways, but perhaps none so clearly as in the One Ring—in its ability to control those who own it and then to drive them to destruction. You can’t see the obsessiveness of Gollum and the weakening of Frodo without thinking about a Christian conception of sin. Beyond that, what is abhorrent in our world tends to be abhorrent in his and what is beautiful here is beautiful there. Tolkien’s world is not straightforwardly Christian anymore than Lewis’s Narnia—but it is generally framed around a similar and easily-recognizable morality.
My fear with The Rings of Power is that it will borrow characters, settings, and situations that Tolkien described, but set them within a very different moral order. Particularly, my fear is that it will set them in a world that borrows the (im)morality of the post-modern post-Christian morass we’ve entered into in the Western world. This is a world in which the mighty and influential are deliberately seeking out any traces of the Christian faith and its morality and then deliberately disrupting or destroying them. If this is broadly true across society, it’s especially true in Hollywood. In this way it’s hard for me to imagine that what Tolkien considered a virtue will still be considered a virtue and that what he considered a vice will still be considered a vice. In fact, I rather suspect the opposite—that the creators will replace his morality with their own. And, to me, that would be the undoing of the whole thing—it would be treasonous. Near-blasphemous.
After two episodes, I think the jury is still out. I expect there are lots of Tolkien purists and conservative commentators expressing disgust at just about every character and every interaction, but I think it’s fair to say we still haven’t received definitive proof about the show’s morality. Hints, certainly, not not proof. That said, I expect the next couple of episodes will bring greater clarity.
Before I go further, let me offer a few bullet-point observations (that probably contain a few minor spoilers).The greater racial diversity of the characters obviously isn’t consistent with Tolkien’s imagination, but could be the kind of adaptation to the modern world that he would sanction. After all, I don’t think it contradicts his vision for his world (even though it was set in the context of Northern European mythology). That said, we have yet to see whether the show’s creators have merely increased diversity or whether they have also imported some form of power dynamics between the races. That will make a big difference. And then, of course, we will have to see whether they import “sexual diversity” or “gender diversity” as well. I find it almost impossible to imagine that they won’t.
There was a kind of “wow factor,” a kind of delight, in the opening scenes of The Fellowship of the Ring that seems lacking in The Rings of Power. But perhaps that’s inevitable since Peter Jackson already gave us a faithful and beautiful portrayal of Middle Earth that this new series can do little more than hope to match. Who could forget their first glimpse at Jackson’s Hobbiton and Jackson’s Frodo and Jackson’s Gandalf all converging at the beginning of The Fellowship of the Ring? That was a magical moment for which The Rings of Power has no answer.
People have been lauding the show’s visual effects, but I found them lacking in vitality and believability. It seems obvious to me how much of each episode was filmed under artificial lights and in front of green screens. I don’t find the lighting compelling and I find many of the sound effects distracting. But maybe that’s just me.
Here’s something new for authors to aspire to: to have people willing to spend hundreds of millions of dollars to gain the rights to the mere footnotes and appendices of their work. Well done J.R.R.!
I think the reimagining of Galadriel achieves the opposite effect the writers presumably desired—it makes her a weaker character rather than a stronger one. Why? Because instead of succeeding as a woman (as she does so well in the books and films) she now seems to need to succeed on the terms of a man. In order to be “strong,” she has to be physically strong—stronger and bolder and fiercer even than the men around her. It is my understanding that Tolkien’s vision for female elves may have included them being warriors, but I expect he would still have wanted them to ultimately succeed on female terms rather than male ones. So far it seems like in this show the women will act like men and the men will act like children.
Also, if New Galadriel really is going to be the central character, it’s hard to imagine her having enough charisma to carry the role. I find her character quite uninteresting and her acting quite uninspired—perhaps because she is given so little of substance to work with. But just compare her to the brilliant, haunting, dignified (not to mention feminine) portrayal by Cate Blanchett, and there’s just no comparison at all!As I wait to learn whether the moral universe will be Tolkien’s or something new, my foremost concern so far is that the show is just not very interesting or engaging. Not yet, anyway. Go back and watch the first hour or two of The Fellowship of the Ring and see how much more it draws you into the story than the first two episodes of The Ring of Power. It’s difficult to not care after seeing the danger sweeping down upon this idyllic little world of the hobbits. It’s masterfully done and substantially superior to the series. I understand that the writers have to introduce lots of characters, settings, and plot lines that will eventually prove epic in scope, but based on the first two episodes, The Rings of Power seems to be trying to do too much too quickly.
I will give it another couple of episodes, but unfortunately to this point, The Rings of Power is just a bunch of characters I don’t care about doing things I don’t care about in places I don’t care about for reasons I don’t care about. To be honest, I am only watching it because I very much want it to succeed—I want it to entertain and delight me. But I am not holding out a lot of hope. -
A La Carte (January 12)
Good morning from Mexico City! I am here to film the final episode of Worship Round the World. I’ll also be speaking at an event for pastors on Saturday and preaching on Sunday, so it is shaping up to be a full weekend.
This week’s deal at Westminster Books is a devotional book that looks interesting. You will also still find last year’s bestselling kids books on sale.As the son of Quebecers, I really appreciated Sarah Eekhoff Zylstra’s fascinating account of the recent history of the church in la belle provence. Amazingly, Quebec represents the largest unreached people group in North America.
This is a good an appropriate question. “Brothers, are we peaceable presbyters? If our church members read our Tweets, would they recognize us? Would they be shocked at the derision we lob at one another? Would they see Christ glorified in our hasty judgments of others motives? The ridicule and scorn we seem to revel in? Let’s be honest are we Tweeting to win a brother or slam him?”
Hopefully you still have one of your monthly free articles from CT so you can read this one about IVF and evangelicals. “As record numbers of Americans grow their families through in vitro fertilization (IVF), Christians who believe that life begins at conception—even if that’s in a petri dish—face new questions and challenges. In response to expanding reproductive technology, pro-life evangelicals are reexamining the theological and ethical concerns around creating and caring for life at its earliest stages.”
“We all want the treasure of friendship. Of course we do. It’s treasure! We just don’t all want the process that makes the treasure look like treasure. We want to discover a hoard somewhere that someone else worked and fought for, that someone else mined and minted, and we want it all for ourselves to spend and enjoy as we see fit. Maybe that’s why we’re so lonely.”
Don’t miss Vanessa Li’s sweet call for us to be like little children. “Let us become like little children, singing freely to the King of Kings. Faces lifted, voices ringing, unconcerned with notes and rhythm, twisting melodies in swirls of wonder, joy in every note they sing. There’s no embarrassed silence, self-conscious mumbling or comparing of their voice to others. The joy within is echoed in the voice without and warms the hearts of those who listen.”
Anne Kennedy asks and answers the question.
…it falls to us to tend to names carefully, to respect what others hold most dear. We might justify carelessness with another man’s trifles and trinkets, but most certainly not with his good name.
No man is a believer, no matter what else he may do, except he give his will, his life to the Master. No man is a believer who does not obey God.
—George MacDonald
