Having received 11 Oscars, and with DVD versions circulating throughout the world, Peter Jackson’s acclaimed adaptation of J. R. R. Tolkien’s fantasy epic, The Lord of the Rings, continues the tale’s penetration into the public consciousness. The most recent film, The Return of the King, saw the ending of the hobbit Frodo’s arduous quest to destroy the Ring of Power by taking it back to the volcanic mountain where it was forged. Those who followed the story this far will have discovered the power of a great tale to offer hope and encouragement.

But the way we interpret the meaning of a story matters. Tolkien himself said, “I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations … I much prefer history, true or feigned, with its varied applicability to the thought and experience of readers.” Rather than look for a specific point-to-point correspondence between symbolic story elements and our own lives, Tolkien knew that history, or stories based on the way the world is, can teach us much about how to live in our own small sphere of experience.

We should look at such stories as offering images and ideas applicable to our own situation. That frees the tale to teach us far more than an allegorical interpretation ever could. It’s the way stories reach deep down into our imagination and experience that makes great storytelling so powerful.

The core of The Lord of the Rings is the journey of Frodo and Sam to take the Ring to the land where Sauron, its creator, had poured his evil power into it, making it a tool of his will. As Frodo makes his way, various evils confront him, including the Ringwraiths, who, attempting to recover the Ring for their master Sauron, stab Frodo with a wound that will never completely heal. Frodo eventually leaves the Fellowship of companions who were chosen to assist him in his quest, fearing that they will be unable to resist the Ring’s temptation. He continues his journey aided only by his servant Sam Gamgee, arguably the true hero of the book, who selflessly stays at his beloved master’s side to see his mission completed. Frodo senses the Ring’s growing heaviness as he realizes it has begun to claim him; yet he knows he cannot turn aside from his destiny even if it kills him. Now, what can such a fantastic story tell us about our own lives?

* * *

“I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way.”
— Frodo, The Fellowship of the Ring

For most of us, our youth is a time of hope and naïve expectation, of preparation for a vocation that will earn us a comfortable living. We expect we will marry a life partner and enjoy the blessings of the Christian life. Many of us may indeed enjoy this, but some of us may find ourselves in our own version of Tales of the Unexpected. Just as Frodo discovered that he had inherited Uncle Bilbo’s gold ring, which would completely change the direction of his comfortable life at Bag End, so we may find our life’s circumstances radically altered.

Frodo never wanted the responsibility of carrying the Ring but, nevertheless, having understood what had to be done, carried the burden until the end. Though he had brave companions for a time, eventually it came down to just him and Sam, walking, fighting, climbing and finally crawling toward Mt. Doom. At one point the wizard Gandalf had told him that, though the Ring wanted to return to its evil master, Sauron, the Ring was meant to come to Frodo, being the working of a higher purpose than the Dark Lord’s.

It is sometimes difficult to discern how the direction of our lives makes sense — how did we happen to find ourselves with these challenges? Could this really be God’s will for our lives? We find we are on a path that we have not chosen, bearing a burden we never expected in our younger, happier days.

Perhaps it is the pain of dealing with a wound of our own making — terrible choices or habits from our past are now reaping bitter fruit. The consequences of the sins of our youth may not be completely annulled, and though we have long repented of them and received God’s forgiveness, it may take years to pay off the interest. We may still bear the scars of shame, and a bent toward wrong thinking and behavior that is hard to change. We wonder if this will ever be different, if we will ever really change.

Or maybe we are facing damage done by others who have transgressed against us. Through no fault of our own, we may still have to deal with the lasting effects of others’ actions — whether thoughtless or malicious, conscious or not. Our temptation to bitterness and blame is only part of the weight we bear in enduring this hurt. Whether through their actions or inaction, presence or absence, we are left with the results, and wonder how we can bear up beneath lingering pain, even after we have forgiven the perpetrator.

We may be carrying the burden of an illness or affliction, or some condition, whether of body or mind that, despite our believing prayers for healing, hasn’t yet changed and may never in this life. This may be what we ourselves suffer or, perhaps, it may be in the life of a spouse, or a child, or other family member, making it that much harder to take.

Yet, as we persevere in doing what is good, in not surrendering to fear and despair, we can find that, like Frodo, as we make our way, we encounter help unlooked-for. The faithfulness of Sam, an unlikely companion and a more unlikely hero, is what enabled Frodo to get as far as he did. And since our heavenly Father will not give us more than we can bear, we often find that there are companions along the way who are able to walk with us.

And there are the unexpected graces and gifts we receive that give us the strength and hope to keep going. Along the way, Frodo and Sam received gifts that enabled them to survive the rigors of the journey, such as Galadriel’s vial of pure light, Bilbo’s sword, Sting, and lembas, the wondrously sustaining Elf waybread. (Although Tolkien never says so explicitly in the book, one biographer has noted that Tolkien considered the waybread as the Eucharistic bread that sustains believers on their journey through life.¹) Such are the wonderful emblems of the grace we pilgrims receive on our arduous path, especially when the way is hardest.

* * *

“His will was set and only death would change it”
— Referring to Sam, in The Return of the King

The Lord of the Rings is a story as much about hope, in the midst of hopelessness, as any other theme. The characters are tested in some way, some beyond any point of endurance they could have imagined — yet the story isn’t just about grim determination in the face of adversity. It’s about help that enables us to do what we never thought possible.

There is bittersweetness to the end of The Return of the King. Though Middle-Earth has been delivered from the evil that sought to cover it in darkness, there is still the pain that Frodo bears from his journey. The wise sadness that permeates the story is a warning against the easy triumphalism of a facile, glib approach to the Christian life. We may someday see, in this life, some relief, even a glorious liberation from the cross we now carry. But others will find their deliverance deferred by a loving King who is also the man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief, in whose care we know we are. Whatever the case, we will find that, even as Frodo’s strength gave out at the end, the higher purpose that had allowed the Ring to come to him also found a way for the Ring to be destroyed. Grace triumphed where flesh failed. And so are we ever indebted to God’s often unexpected favor that enables us to endure, however long and whatever the circumstances.

¹ See the Christianity Today article at http://www.christianitytoday.com/ch/2003/002/5.28.html.

Photo Copyright © 2004 Getty Images and its licensors. All rights reserved.

To request permission to reprint this article, click here.