Gazing into the Palantír

It is easy to look at the wickedness in our world and be overwhelmed as we peer into the abyss. Mass shootings, regressive political administrations, global conflict, rampant immorality, the decline of Christianity--things appear very dark indeed. And the longer we gaze the more hopeless it becomes. How can we persist in a world so evil? How can we abide through to the end in the face of such opposition? How can we raise children in a world that is bent on inventing new ways to transgress the laws of God, and targets its messaging on them? 

One way we can regain confidence is to stop looking at the world. 

I recently finished reading The Lord of the Rings (a thoroughly enjoyable read!), and it is interesting to notice two characters who followed almost identical arcs. Saruman and Denethor both begin as powerful characters fighting against the enemy Sauron, and both lose their way. The wizard Saruman defects to the enemy, and Denethor, during the height of the siege, succumbs to madness. Both fall away by precisely the same way: gazing at the enemy through the palantír, a seeing stone or Middle-earth style communication device. The enemy cannot show things that are false in the stone—but by continually showing the vastness of his armies, the power of his creatures, the strength of his fortress—the watchers on the other side of the palantír give way to fear and are undermined.

The good wizard Gandalf says of Denethor, “The knowledge which he obtained was, doubtless, often of service to him; yet the vision of the great might of Mordor that was shown to him fed the despair of his heart until it overthrew his mind.”

I wonder if in fixating on the news reports, the social media vitriol, all the madness out there--we too are effectively gazing at the might of the enemy through the palantír. We look to be informed and be one step ahead, but are we meant to handle the constant stream of darkness? As we look deeply with physical eyes at physical realities, we neglect the use of the eyes of faith and are dragged down into hopelessness. By gazing overmuch, we make the objects in the mirror appear bigger than they are, and fall easy prey to despair.

Gideon would have never followed through with his mission if he had fixated on the physical disparity between his 300 and the Midian host. Elijah would never have challenged the prophets of Baal if he had paid real attention to the numerical odds or the latest religious polling data. Joshua would never have entered the promise land if he had looked at the power of the Canaanites as the other spies did. If David spent any serious time analyzing Goliath: computing his size, his strength, his armor, his win loss record--he would have given way to fear as the rest of the army did.

One of the reasons faith is described as childlike is because children do not yet understand human weights and measures appropriately. They are not hindered by the limitations we adults see so clearly, and have not yet been restricted and rebuffed by the laws of nature. Experience, or so we claim, has taught us hard realities, so: terminal illness leads to death, nations in decline do not return, hearts hardened are lost for good. This is the way it is. The child knows none of this, sees none of the difficulty. If God is for us, what does it matter if we are up against 10, 100, 1,000 or 10,000? It's all the same to the kid.

Children also do not have the illusion of their own competence. We adults have achieved certain things and have not achieved other things. We know roughly where we fit in the hierarchy, and we recognize quite easily whether something is within or beyond our capacity. The problem with this is we naturally impose our own competence and ability on the infinite God. Like King Saul, we think our armor will give David a material gain in giant combat. Because we live in the physical world, we think in terms of the physical, and limit our faith to what can reasonably be accomplished in the physical. We can’t stack up against the giants in the land, so back to Egypt we go. 

The child on the other had has no competence. He knows he is at the bottom of the food chain, and because of this his faith is not at all restricted by what he in himself is able to accomplish. Through his weakness he is free to hope all things, believe all things, and endure all things. This kind of faith is far more rational than the computing adult, for it sees God as He is. God has no limits and knows no boundaries. God is not constrained to work with the tools or abilities or methods we work with. God can break trends, turn hearts to flesh, and breathe life on dead bones. One with God is a majority, always.

What is a dark world in comparison to this God? 

Nothing. 

Thankfully, childlike faith is not restricted to physical children. Even adults can return by gazing at God more than we do the world. Filling our minds with His truth. As we look with the eye of faith at his attributes, his works, and his promises--how can we not go forward with confidence?

If you find yourself overwhelmed and disheartened, take a break from the filth. Turn off the phone. Gaze at your God and ask yourself, is anything impossible with Him?

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Psalm 27:1-3

1 The Lord is my light and my salvation—

    whom shall I fear?

The Lord is the stronghold of my life—

    of whom shall I be afraid?

 

2 When the wicked advance against me

    to devour me,

it is my enemies and my foes

    who will stumble and fall.

3 Though an army besiege me,

    my heart will not fear;

though war break out against me,

    even then I will be confident.