With great insight and common sense, Sam explains to Frodo that there are two types of tales. The first is the kind Bilbo had when he left the Shire and then returned well and wealthy—tales of “coming home and finding things all right, though not quite the same.” But there are also those who embark upon adventures, and despite opportunities to turn back, don’t, and never come to “a good end.” Sam goes on to say tales with the good endings aren’t always the best tales to hear but might be the best tales “to get landed in.”
I think most believers hope for the good-ending stories where the miracle comes, the marriage is healed, and the prodigal son comes home. We celebrate, rightly I think, how the relentless love of God sets free the son and daughter captive to sin. Yet, we are vaguely aware of the other kind of story. When Sam muses on two kinds of tales, he is on the stairs of Cirith Ungol and about to face his most terrible battle and deepest sorrow. Sam does not know what kind of tale he is in, or even if there will anyone to tell his tale.
Scripture supports Sam’s observation about two kinds of tales. Both kind of tales are mentioned in Hebrews eleven—stories of those who by faith shut the mouths of lions and those who by faith were sawn in half. Most of us like the stories of mighty and miraculous things done by men and women of faith. Hebrews is up front is saying that many of these heroes of faith never received that which was promised (v. 13, 39). We prefer stories where persevering prayer is answered, promises realized, and then glorious testimonies of deliverance shared.
The twelfth chapter of Acts also has both kinds of tales. The unhappy tale is only one verse long: “And he [Herod] had James the brother of John put to death with a sword.” In the next few verses, we get the tale of Peter being arrested. An angel appears, the cell fills with light, the chains break off, Peter walks out past all the guards, and the gates open by themselves. Honestly, I usually read right past the story of James beheading. I keep hoping for Peter’s kind of story.
I named my oldest son Peter even though the boy’s name we had picked out was Luke. I felt that he would end up being more tempestuous than the biblical Luke. In all his wanderings from God, I held out for a tale like the apostle Peter—who denied Jesus but was restored and became an apostle to the Jews. My son struggled with a deadly combination of addiction and type one diabetes. As my son landed in one ICU after another, I held onto the hope of the glorious testimony he would have when this tale was over. Then he died. I was not ready for this kind of tale.
In the church, I had mostly heard the tales where things are hard but then God breaks through and saves the day. God, I pray and hope, did this for Peter the night before he died, but I have no tale (not yet at least) of a prodigal come home, a denier of Jesus restored, a mighty man of God who knows the depths of God’s grace. I would never see Peter fulfill the life-verse engraved on the sword I gave him: “Feed my sheep.” It is impossible, even for a father, to know his son’s spiritual condition. On his foot, Peter had a tattoo that said, “Not all who wander are lost.”
It is dangerous to act as though we only live in a tale with a happy ending. If we think that we will always stop the mouths of lions, we will be unprepared for their bite. If we think every prodigal is coming home, we are ruined when our child dies alone under a bridge. The Israelites (Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego) thrown into the fiery furnace, declared that God was able to deliver them from the furnace, but if not, they still would not bow down to Nebuchadnezzar’s golden idol. They hoped they were in a happy ending story but knew it was possible they were in the other kind.
Pastors and church culture do not prepare believers well for the “if not.” We are always wanting a happy-ending tale like Bilbo’s, not a story of dying alone in Mordor. We want to hear of Peter whose chains were broken by an angel, not James who is beheaded. But I think Tolkien helps us recognize that our lives contain both kinds of tales.
As they trudged up the side of Mount Doom to destroy the ring, Sam and Frodo realized they were without a way out of Mordor. As far as they knew, they were in a tale that no one would hear and from which they would never return. Yet they put one foot in front of the other. Friendship and duty carried them forward in a tale with no happy ending, no hope.
Of course, it turned out they were wrong about the ending.After the ring is destroyed, they sit on the side of the mountain and wait to die. Eagles come and carry them away to safety. They later hear of how great a victory was achieved and how much evil has been undone and vanquished. When Sam discovers Gandalf was not truly dead, with laughter and tears, Sam asks,“Is everything sad going to come untrue?
For believers, there are always eagles, no matter what kind of tale we are in. Whether we see the eagles (angels) in this life or the next depends on how our tale is written. Like Sam and Frodo, we must be ready for either kind of tale. In faithfulness and friendship, we must trudge forward.
My wife, Teckla, has dementia, and as far as I kind tell, dementia never has a happy ending—only death. More prayer, or more faith, probably won’t change the ending. All the prayers and biblical promises of deliverance seem not to apply to tales of dementia. No eagles will come this side of the grave, yet I pray for her healing every morning. I do not think I will wake up and discover everything sad is untrue. But the day is coming when every tear is a tear of joy, and all our tales, sad and happy, are woven into the tale of Christ’s victory.
