A Dragon, a Hobbit, and Our Lord

This past summer, in July, my dad took me to Scotland. We saw the Counting Crows (i.e. the best band in the world ever; Rage Against the Machine, the best live band ever; and others) and drank Strongbow. The music festival was Friday through Sunday, and I’m almost certain we were the only Americans there. Brilliant, it was, really brilliant, a great time.

 

Most of the Scots were drunk, literally most. It was probably closer to two-thirds of the group. Not just tipsy, but absolutely intoxicated. The group numbered 80,000. So a pinch more than 50,000 people were completely drunk every day. It was hilarious at first, but as the weekend passed it wore on me.

 

As I walked to my computer, to start this post, from getting my iced vanilla latte, the screen saver popped up and the first picture that appeared was one from the trip to Scotland. The picture wasn’t of a band, or me, or even my dad; it was of an old couple, mid sixties probably, who had met and embraced my dad and I, noting that we were the only Americans. They were angels or something, really nice angels. They showed hospitality like no one else there had, not that the Scots weren’t hospitable, but that this couple went out of their way to get to know my dad. They smoked pot, but they had grace unlike most people I know, period. I felt warm in their presence, as if I were at the hearth of their home eating bread and drinking stout ale. I saw the picture on my computer screen (of the couple, cross-bone t-shirts and all) and I thought, I want that. They were happy, and they weren’t lonely. Of course they must fight and have problems (unless they were really angels like I supposed), but they were warm. They had a good air about them. Air that not many have.

 

We are very lonely, I think. Super lonely. That’s why marriage is so beautiful: it obviously doesn’t cure loneliness to a perfect degree, but it’s a beautiful picture of what Christ will be to us someday. Our husband, intimately warming us with His beauty and grace. Lavishing our souls for love’s sake. With Jesus we will be like the pot-smoking hippies from Scotland. Happy, not lonely, and gracious.

 

I know I try to be all deep and stuff, especially with my writing, but I think I’m overrated or something. I am reading a book called Brisingr right now, and it’s a fantasy book, the third in a cycle of four, about a dragon rider, Eragon, and his dragon, Saphira. I love fantasy. I love it so much. I feel so warm when I am consumed with a tale of loyalty, risk, friendship, love, and heroism. And the story really does consume me. I love it! This book is good, not great. The story is good and the writing is pretty good, but I love it so much. It’s not terribly deep but I love it like a fish loves water.

 

 I think the archetypal form of fantasy literature is Tolkien’s trilogy, The Lord of the Rings. Both Tolkien and Paolini (author of Brisingr) deal with the theme of loneliness. Frodo, the actual “Lord” of the rings, and the hero of the epic, would have died if it weren’t for his companion, Samwise. Frodo would have literally died of loneliness, consumed by himself and the evil in the ring. Eragon, similarly, feels the icy-cold grip of loneliness when he is parted from Saphira. Here is a beautiful quote from Brisingr. In this scene, Eragon and Saphira reunite after nearly a week of separation (oh, and it should be noted that Eragon and Saphira share minds, or consciousnesses):

 

“Like a flood of warm water, her consciousness rushed into him, even as his rushed into her. Eragon gasped and tripped and nearly fell. They enveloped each other within the folds of their thoughts, holding each other with an intimacy no physical embrace could replicate, allowing their identities to merge once again. Their greatest comfort was a simple one: they were no longer alone.”

 

I think that is beautiful, and a very accurate image of heaven. I cannot express to you how strongly I long to be in His presence, tripping as I run to His embrace, smiling and laughing as tears of joys stream down my face, knowing that, once and for all, I am no longer alone.

 

Here is the hope I hold to when the world is a dark cloud: I will be in Christ’s presence, in YHWH’s hold, in the Spirit’s motherly warmth. In that moment, all my desires will be quenched: loneliness (I will no longer feel the great chasm in my heart that I long to be filled); wonder (I won’t have to read Lord of the Rings or Brisingr to be consumed by story); purpose, intimacy, wholeness, whatever your, my desire may be, if we hold fast to Christ’s death and resurrection, God will quench it. We will exist in a state of pure and undefiled satisfaction. Perfect unity with our Lord and the rest of His followers.

Pot-smoking hippies, Eragon and Saphira, Frodo and Sam. How much greater is our intimacy with Christ! And not only with Christ, but YHWH Himself! And His Spirit! And all who believe! I cannot and perhaps should not dwell on this hope too much, for it excites my heart to the point of delusion.

But think, just think, and ponder this hope with me for one moment. A perfect city. A perfect God. A perfect eternity. That’s what you call hope. My heart trembles within my soul.