Return of the King

My audio journey through Middle Earth has ended with great satisfaction.  Evil is defeated, the king gains the throne, the heroes win the day.  What a wonderful story.  Tolkien, in his brilliance, gives us the bad guys to hate--the bad guys in The Lord of the Rings are really, really bad--but he also gives us bad guys to relate to.  The story doesn't simply deal with the forces of evil on the empire level, but the forces of evil within us.

Of course, the clearest internal struggle, which runs through all three books, is the temptation to power that the ringbearers have to struggle against.  We saw how possession of the ring transformed Gollum; how Bilbo kept the ring for years without succumbing to evil, but not without escaping effects of the temptation; how Frodo (and, briefly, Sam) bent under the weight of the ring as it became more burdensome the closer they got to Mount Doom.

Other characters struggled against the power of Mordor.  In The Two Towers, Theoden, king of Rohan, was held under the spell of Wormtongue, Saruman's agent.  Gandalf broke the spell, and Theoden became a great leader in the War of the Ring.  Similary, Denethor, the Steward of Gondor (essentially the Stewards had acted as kings in the absence of the true king, Aragorn and his ancestors), secretly communicated with Sauron, hoping to become king.  He despair at not becoming king and his grief at the loss of Boramir, who was slain by orcs while defending Merry and Pippin, led him to succumb to Sauron's lies, ultimately driving him mad.

Finally, in a long sequence not portrayed at all in the movies, we see the power of evil take a foothold in the Shire.  After the destruction of the ring, the defeat of the forces of Sauron, and the coronation of  Aragon as king, the hobbits take their time returning home.  They stop by Isengard to check on things.  Treebeard and his entish friends have torn down Saruman's mechanistic, sterile projects and restored Isengard's former glory, and have kept Saruman and Wormtongue locked up in the tower of Orthanc.  However, Treebeard, the softy, eventually let them go, thinking they were powerless.  Gandalf had destroyed Saruman's staff, taking away much of his power, but, as Gandalf pointed out, he still has the power of his tongue.

Returning to the Shire, the hobbits discover that Saruman had used that power to establish a tyrrannical regime over the Shire.  Some power-hungry hobbits, aided by a large band of "ruffians," men who had taken on orc-like qualities, were ruling the Shire like petty dictators.  Many trees had been felled, houses torn down and replaced with blocky, grey shacks, mechanical mills belched smoke, and filth and clutter prevailed.  The good produce of the land had either dried up or been taken over by the "chief" and his gang.  After facing the heart of evil, the four returning hobbits would not tolerate the reign of evil, however petty, in their beloved Shire.  They lead a rebellion which quickly puts down Saruman's devices and begin to restore peace to the shire.

Most of us will never have to face down pure evil, like Frodo did, falling under the eye of Sauron, or like Aragon and his army did at the Black Gate of Mordor.  But the influence of evil always creeps into our lives, through our own greed, the lust for power, vanity, etc.  In The Lord of the Rings, the heroes of the story overcome evil by supporting each other, but working together, and by maintaining focussed integrity in the face of temptation.

These stories can be read on many different levels, by all different ages, with a wide range of interpretations.  I have said before, the audio performance on these CDs is brilliant, bringing the story and characters to life.  The Lord of the Rings rightly sits as one of the great works of 20th century literature.

A Lover's Quarrel with the Evangelical Church

Warren Cole Smith, no evangelical outsider, doesn't have a lot good to say about the state of evangelicalism in the United States.  A long-time figure in Christian journalism, he has seen the American church up close and personal for many years.  In A Lover's Quarrel, Smith's criticism of the church can be boiled down to this: in a half century of rising cultural and institutional prominence, evangelicalism has very little to show for its efforts.  The number of parachurch ministries, the number of megachurches, the availability of Christian books and music, and the amount of Christian radio and TV broadcasting have all exploded, yet the number of people attending church has remained steady, if not declined, and the overall culture does not reflect a stronger Christian presence.

Smith describes the symptoms of the problem with evangelicalism as follows:

• The New Provincialism.  Evangelicals have lost all sense of history and tradition.  Just as a Texan might think that all things not Texan have little or no value (rightly so, of course), the modern evangelical church believes that all things not of the moment have little value.
• The Triumph of Sentimentality.  Evangelicals have a "false notion of the world as it is."  We "replace a biblical God with one we prefer."
• The Christian-Industrial Complex.  Evangelicals have made an industry of ministry.  Discipleship and ministry have taken a back seat to perpetuating institutions and generating profits.
• Body-Count Evangelism.  Parachurch ministries and crusade evangelism have fostered a focus on numbers, where "people become statistics" and "true salvations become opportunities for not for joy, but for bragging."
• The Great Stereopticon.  The church's rapid embrace of technology has turned the focus to entertainment and minimized the role of preaching and teaching.
• Christianity's Next Small Thing.  The rising prominence of short-term missions has wasted countless resources and misses the importance of church planting, discipleship, and indigenous leadership.

If you have been around evangelical churches at all, you probably recognize some, if not all, of these in your own church experiences.  However, if you're like me, you can also think of many exceptions.  While reading this, I kept thinking of those studies that show the most people have a very low opinion of Congress, but like their own congressmen (thus reelect them), or who decry the low quality of public schools, while holding their local campus in high esteem (thus continuing to send their children to pubilc schools). 

Smith is particularly hard on megachurches.  He cites statistics which demonstrate that as the number of megachurches has grown, actual church attendance in the U.S. has remained stagnant or even declined, and the number of churches that close down increased.  Thus, he argues that megachurches typically draw not from the unchurched, as they claim to, but from members of other churches.  On top of that, the "seeker friendly" emphasis of many megachurches, "constantly focused on outreach [rather] than spiritual formation, . . . ensures that every generation would have to be reevangelized, since the current adult generation does not have the spiritual training or maturity to raise its own children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord."

He does name some names, and demonstrates how some large churches, such as Willow Creek in Illinois, wield wide influence.  But I can't help thinking he's missing something.  Surely he found megachurches that are exceptions to his rule?  I can think of some churches that fit his description, but I can think of plenty of others which do a lot right.

The whole tone of the book is critical.  A lover's quarrel will have plenty of criticism, I suppose, but if you don't want it to turn to divorce, you'd better have some grace and willingness to come together.  Smith doesn't have much constructive to say in light of his criticisms.  Yes, he argues, smaller is better, and church planting is a more natural and effective way to reach the lost than building larger and larger churches, but  the book leaves me with a negative taste in my mouth.  To be sure, many evangelicals will be challenged by his criticisms, but without a more constructive message, his words fall on deaf ears.

Crazy Love: Overwhelmed by a Relentless God

Francis Chan, a pastor in Simi Valley, California, does not seem to fit the typical best-selling pastor/author mold.  In Crazy Love, he pushes the reader to reexamine not his faith but his faithfulness to living out the faith.  This book did not really present anything new, controversial, or earth-shattering, but it provides strong reminders of well-known truths, calling Christians to passion and commitment.

Much of Chan's ministry has been built on preaching and teaching to college and young adult audiences.  He became a favorite at the Passion conferences, gatherings of Christian students hungry for radical commitment.  He planted a church in Simi Valley that has grown quickly and spawned a number of church plants.  But his teaching and ministry, as best I can see, is marked by his humility and a passion for knowing and loving God.

I first read of him in a Christianity Today profile.  His non-traditional teaching style and his church style, not building-centered or mega-church-like, attracted me.  So I picked up Crazy Love at the library to see what he's all about.  And I wasn't disappointed.

The major premise of Crazy Love states that the way we live our Christian lives ought to be marked not by a sense of obligation or legalism, but by our love for a God who loves us beyond measure.  Anything less shows a rejection of his love for us.

His chapter on lukewarm Christians struck me hardest.  Many of the items on his checklist of sure signs of a lukewarm Christian fit me uncomfortably well.  Then he goes on to point out what is clear in the Revelation 3 passage on lukewarm believers: they are neither hot nor cold, and God is about to spit them out of his mouth--in other words, they are not Christians!  Now, he does go on to say that he does "not want true believers to doubt their salvation as they read this book."  God's grace covers us in spite of our lukewarm lives and failure to fully follow God.  But the message is clear, that half-hearted responses to God's love are not responses at all, but rejection of his courtship of us.

I was reminded at times of John Piper's books.  Piper, another Passion conference speaker and pastor in Minnesota, writes frequently of "Christian hedonism," the unyielding passion to know more of God.  Similarly, Chan compares romantic love to love of God.  If I am truly in love with someone, I want to spend as much time as possible with her, no expense is too great to spend on her, and I long for her when we are not together.  If time spent with her becomes a chore, or I am reluctant to spend money on her, or avoid her presence, I would begin to question the depths my love.  Our love for God should be marked by joyful times of fellowship with him, extravagant giving to him, and a longing for his presence.

Too often I view devotional time as a duty or mandate, giving as an act of obedience, sometimes wishing to do other things with my money, going to church as a chore, etc.  I know those attitudes are not pleasing to God, but I get stuck--how do you stir up passionate love for God when it's just not there?  The usual answer is to act: read the Bible, give more than you think you can, spend time in worship, serve in the church and the community, all out of obedience, and the love and passion will come.  Act like you love, and your heart follows.  I think there's some truth to that, but I don't know that Chan goes that way.

Chan promotes the attitude of the man in the parable who found the pearl of great price in a field, then sold everything he had to buy the field, so that he could claim that pearl as his own.  The church tends to neglect that forward thinking, focusing instead on the here and now, the things of this world.  (Whether he intends it or not, one of Chan's chapter titles, "Your Best Life. . . Later," pokes fun at a Texas megapastor's book, Your Best Life Now.)

I enjoyed Chan's challenging book, and it made me want to hear more from him.  His sermons are available as podcasts from itunes, and he has some videos expanding on the themes of the book here.  But more than wanting to hear more from Chan, it stirred up in me a desire to return to my first love, to restore the joy of my salvation.  Crazy Love has given me fodder for reflection.  It is well worth reading and will be well worth revisiting.

Wise Blood, by Flannery O'Connor

Flannery O'Connor is one of those authors I feel like I ought to like.  Her name pops up from time to time among Christian writers I respect.  She's supposedly this great Christian writer, loved by other writers, theologians, and teachers of college fiction classes, but she is simply not to my taste.  Does that mean I'm less cultured and intelligent that people who like to read her work?  I don't think so.  Just a matter of taste, I'd say.

Wise Blood, O'Connor's first novel, follows the travels of Hazel Motes as he tries to run from God.  For reasons never made terribly clear, he's never been able to reconcile some dissatisfying or disturbing experiences of his youth with the truth of the gospel.  Hypocritical or perverted expressions of Christianity aside, as he matures couldn't he have found what he was looking for: a genuine expression of Christ's love and grace?  Instead of looking, he takes on the affectations of a preacher, preaching the Church Without Christ.  In the meantime, he hooks up with a prostitute, beds an underaged girl, and ends up murdering a rival.

The thing that bothers me most about this novel is not its attempt at satirizing and challenging complacent Christianity, but the poor story telling.  The characters, terribly wooden and one-dimensional, behave in inexplicable ways that do not fit with their portrayal and certainly do not fit with the way real people act in real life.  For instance, when a policeman pulls Motes over, Motes informs him that he doesn't have a driver's license, so of course the officer pushes Motes's car off a cliff then offers him a ride back to town. Huh?  And the disconnected, rambling plot goes nowhere.

One of my favorite stories about O'Connor, which I read years ago in the introduction to a collection of her stories, tells of her conversation with, as I recall, the director of the Iowa Writers' Workshop.  O'Connor, born, raised, and educated in Georgia, could not make herself understood.  The midwesterner to whom she was speaking stopped her and said, "Young lady, you are going to have to stop and write down whatever it is you're saying, because I can't understand a word of it," or something to that effect.  Maybe if I lived in the deep South, I would have more appreciation for her gothic Southern tone, but for now it's falling on deaf ears.

I won't quit her forever; I understand her short fiction is her best work.  It's certainly what she's better known for, so maybe I'll pick some of that up.  Like I said, I want to like her, but for now I'll be looking elsewhere for both good storytelling and faith-challenging literature.

For a New Liberty: The Libertarian Manifesto

In the mid-1990s, with the Republicans in full control of Congress, Gingrich's Contract with America in full swing, and a batch of new, reform-minded members of the U.S. House, I thought we might see some real change in Washington.  Maybe we will finally see smaller government that Reagan used to talk about. No such luck.  In the middle of some budget debates where the two major parties argued over who could spend more taxpayer money, I received a solicitation to join the Libertarian Party.  I was already familiar with libertarianism, but finally decided to capitalize the L.

For someone who is a big l or a little l libertarian, it gets difficult to find sources of right thinking.  So much of the media and commentary leans hard left or hard right.  Both left and right have elements of libertarian thinking, but neither provide an intellectual core for the libertarian to cling to.  Murray Rothbard gives us that core.

Starting with a libertarian take on the American Revolution, Rothbard gives a reasoned defense of libertarian thought.  The most fundamental idea is the right to self ownership.  Every person has a right to his or her own body and the right to the fruits of his or her labor.  To the extent that the state makes demands on people against their will, involuntary servitude emerges.

Rothbard applies these ideas to several area of policy.  I was with him at almost every point, until he came to the passage on abortion:

What human has the right to remain, unbidden, as an unwanted parasite within some other human being's body? This is the nub of the issue: the absolute right of every person, and hence every woman, to the ownership of her own body. What the mother is doing in an abortion is causing an unwanted entity within her body to be ejected from it: If the fetus dies, this does not rebut the point that no being has a right to live, unbidden, as a parasite within or upon some person's body.

I don't know how the absurdity of this can be missed by Rothbard and others.  Consider this: you come home to find that a helpless child has been deposited in your living room.  You have the right to eject the child from your home, but do you have the right to kill it?  I think not.  I point this out because so many libertarians are vehemently pro-choice, and use this type of argument, but in my view it conflicts with the greater idea of self sovereignty.

This passage aside, Rothbard brilliantly defends and applies the ideas of liberty.  He cogently rebuts those who say that courts, roads, defense, etc. must always be the realm of the state.  He provides a framework for market responses to environmental and social issues.  (On the environment, for instance, he points out that the biggest polluters are government bodies who stifle market responses to environmental concerns.)  There are places where his anecdotes and data are dated--the book was originally published in 1973--but the principles have not grown stale.  This will continue to be a resource for me as I consider and reconsider my own thinking in matters political.

The Mises Institute has provided the full text online (here), either on the web site or as a PDF file.  You may also download the mp3 version or purchase the actual book or CDs with the mp3 file.  I downloaded the whole book as a series of podcasts on itunes.  And of course you can buy it from amazon.com.

The Two Towers

The brilliant story of The Lord of the Rings continues in The Two Towers.  Like I said in my comments on The Fellowship of the Ring, I have little to add to what has been said about such a profound, incomparable work of fiction.  But there are a few passages that caught my attention and warrant a second look.

The Two Towers opens with Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli discovering that Merry and Pippin have been taken by the orcs.  The three take off on foot, in hot pursuit.  Now I realize that for most of the history of earth and middle earth, the main means of transportation was by foot, but as an ultrarunner in an age where most transportation is motorized, I was impressed by their speed and by the descriptions of their running.  Legolas takes the lead: "Like a deer he sprang away.  Through the trees he sped.  On and on he led them, tireless and swift."  That's the kind of pacer I would like on an ultramarathon!  "All night the three companions scrambled in this bony land, climbing to the crest of the first and tallest ridge, and down again into the darkness of a deep winding valley on the other side."  I've never run the Western States 100, but this sounds like a description of part of the course!  "As if fresh from a night's rest they sprang from stone to stone."  The smell of the lush, green valley, Legolas declares, "is better than much sleep.  Let us run!"

By the third day of their pursuit, "they hardly paused, now striding, now running, as if no weariness could quench the fire that burned them."  Gimli tired, but "My legs must forget the miles."   Legolas "still stepped as lightly as ever, his feet hardly seeming to press the grass, leaving no footprints as he passed."  When they finally meet up with the Riders of Rohan, they are impressed with the trio's speed: "The deed of the three friends should be sung in many a hall.  Forty leagues and five you  have measured ere the fourth day is ended!  Hardy is the race of Elendil!"  I think a league is about three miles, so that would be 135 miles, the length of Badwater, only with no support crew, carrying packs and weapons, on trails, and tracking Orcs.  Quite an ultramarathon!

After a harrowing escape from the Orcs, Merry and Pippin meet Treebeard and the other Ents.  I love the Ents.  They are among the oldest living creatures, easily mistaken for trees.  They take their time, unlike all the other "hasty" beings.  Their language, definitely not hasty, "is a lovely language, but it takes a very long time to say anything in it, because we do not say anything in it, unless it is worth taking a long time to say, and to listen to."

Despite their unhastiness, they do have the capacity for decisiveness.  After the council of the Ents, at which they decided that they must march against Saruman at Isengard, Treebeard acknowledges that they decided quickly, for Ents, perhaps too quickly, acting without thinking.  "They are all roused now, and their mind is all on one thing: breaking Isengard. . . . We have a long way to go, and there is time ahead for thought.  It is something to have started."  Then, in what must portray the mind of anyone going to war, Treebeard reflects, "Of course, it is likely enough, my friends, likely enough that we are going to our doom: the last march of the Ents.  But if we stayed at home and did nothing, doom would find us anyway, sooner or later.  That thought has long been growing in our hearts, and that is why we are marching now."  Pippin, looking up at Treebeard, "could see a sad look in his eyes, sad but not unhappy."  I am not, nor have I even been, in the armed forces, but surely soldiers in the War on Terror share that kind of sentiment.

The second book of The Two Towers focuses on Frodo, Sam, and Gollum.  The hobbits reluctantly take Gollum on as a guide, but never quite know whether they can trust him.  Sam's faithfulness to Frodo and suspicion of Gollum, and Frodo's increasing burden of carrying the ring, make for some interesting interactions.

The Two Towers ends with Frodo captured by the orcs, Sam following behind, and the rest of the fellowship preparing for war.  The forces of good and evil will come into ultimate conflict in The Return of the King.

Trespassers Will Be Baptized, by Elizabeth Emerson Hancock

Elizabeth Emerson Hancock apparently has some issues with her Southern Baptist upbringing.  I picked this up randomly at the library, amused by the title.  She tells of her entrepreneurial childhood; during the family yard sale, she offered to baptized all comers in the family pool.  Cute.  I hoped for some more good stories.  The blurbs on the back cover promise "laugh-out-loud funny and touching at the same time" and "hilarious and touching in turn."  I can say Trespassers Will Be Baptized is mildly amusing and sometimes a little touching, but not much more than that.  I think I may be the wrong audience, anyway.  Perhaps she's aiming for the middle-aged to older female reader.

Hancock distances herself from her Southern Baptist roots, with criticism a little too biting.  Her experience in rural Kentucky perhaps tainted her view.  I know plenty of Southern Baptists who are intelligent, cultured, and theologically wise.  I wonder if her criticisms of Southern Baptists as dumb, moralistic, and simplistic might show her classism against the South, now that she is a Harvard educated east coast lawyer.

I guess I was really more bored than offended by her stories.  Whatever the case, I was more than ready to be through with this book.