The Ring of Power in Real Life

"What good is it for a man to gain the whole world and yet lose or forfeit his very self?" - Lk. 9:25

I was watching The Fellowship of the Ring yesterday and was struck once again by Tolkien's genius in describing the strange, self-damning nature that seems common to all human beings. It is the very nature that Paul recognizes in himself in Romans 7: "For what I do is not the good I want to do; no the evil I do not want to do, this I keep doing." The ring in Tolkien's story makes this phenomenon crystal clear. It is known as the "The Ring of Power," because it offers just that - power. Control. And everybody wants it. Almost every significant character who comes in contact with the ring is tempted and even overwhelmed by the opportunity it offers for complete control. And yet, all the while, it is quite clear that the ring controls its owner much more than the owner controls anything. How true this idea is in our lives.

In my day-to-day life, I find myself constantly encountering these two faced opportunities, offering first to give me everything I think I want or need, and yet in the very next moment threatening to destroy everything that I actually love. There are a few versions of the Ring of Power in my life. Sometimes I say "no" to them. Sometimes I entertain the thought. Sometimes I actually take one. And I try it on. And I obsess over it. And I defend it almost to the death, though I know on the inside it's terrible for me.

This is what we all do, I think. And I'm not talking about little "sins." I'm talking about your obsessions. You don't have thousands of them. You may have just one right now. Or maybe two or three or four. But one is enough to do some serious damage. You have an alcohol problem or a body-image issue or a money addiction. Maybe you're obsessed with your appearance or your reputation. Maybe with your boyfriend or girlfriend or with a certain guy or girl. Or maybe you're obsessed with whatever it is you currently call "success." You've been working so hard for this promotion or that grade or this acceptance letter or that bit of recognition, and nothing else matters right now. It takes up all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and you've got absolutely nothing left to give to those you care about most. Maybe you cannot picture life without it. Or maybe you tell yourself it's only going to be X more months or years or whatever and then you'll be finished and everything will be back to normal.

This is what we do, and this is what kills us. And even when, at first, we can see that it's killing us, we continue on to the point that the "EXIT" door is no longer anywhere in sight. And it's much more comfortable there, where there is no tension. At times, our conscience may still speak, and we may consider being done with it for good, but usually we just end up thinking there's no need to be that "extreme." Is it really even that big of a deal anyway?

The answer is yes. Yes. Yes it is. The kingdom that your obsession is building for yourself will become hell for you, if it is not already. As Tolkien's friend C. S. Lewis often states in one way or another, hell is getting what you want. Hell is when your obsessions find their fruition, and you end up spending the rest of eternity with yourself. This thought is brilliantly illustrated in Adam Sandler's under-rated not-at-all-a-comedy, Click, in which his character gets a magical remote control which allows him to literally control his entire life. He gets whatever he wants, and thus (spoiler alert) loses everything, including his wife and kids. He gains the world and loses his very self.

In The Fellowship of the Ring, we find a similar scenario (with an opposite turnout) when the queen elf Galadriel sees the ring for the first time. It is perhaps the most chilling scene in the movie. She is so overcome with terrible thoughts of power and control that her entire body grows and lights up and her face becomes almost demonic. But in the very next moment, she shrinks down and smiles again at Frodo, saying, "I pass the test. I will diminish...and remain Galadriel." She gave it up, and thus saved her life.

Jesus' teaching is nearly flooded with this sort of theme - giving up what you want to have, giving up what you have, denying yourself, taking up your cross, etc. And often times these words come in the context of "following him" or being his "disciple."

"...any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple."
- Lk. 14:33

There's been a lot of talk in the church in recent years about "discipleship," which usually deals with the question, "What does it mean to follow Jesus?" This a good question. What does it mean? The assumption in most evangelical churches I have come across is that we do "evangelism" for those who are not Christians, that is, we tell them the good news about Jesus dying for them on the cross. And then once they believe, we do "discipleship," meaning we teach them how to "follow Christ." This makes some sense to me, but still I have to ask, "What does it mean to follow Jesus?" Usually we mean some sort of training that helps us "grow" in faith and obedience after we have accepted him. But interestingly enough, when Jesus talks about discipleship in specific, he seems to have a different idea in mind. Rather than "growth" and "obedience," he speaks over and over again about "giving up," "losing," "denying," and "dying," and all of this from the very beginning. We are told before we even begin that we ought to count the cost - and the cost, apparently, is our current life.

To the rich young ruler, Jesus said:

"You still lack one thing. Sell everything you have and give it to the poor...Then come follow me."

To the man who wanted to follow, but needed to bury his father first, Jesus said:

"Let the dead bury their own dead..."

To the man who wanted to say good-bye to his family, Jesus said:

"No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God."

To his disciples he said:

"If anyone would come after me he must deny himself, take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it."

So what does it mean to "follow Jesus?" Well, it means to die, as he did. We follow him to the cross. We bring with us all the things that we are unwilling to let go of - the things that make us slaves - and we go to the cross. Our obsession, our addiction, our kingdom, our hell. We cannot rid ourselves of it on our own, by discipline or determination or will-power. You know that if you've ever tried. It must be put to death. And we must not wait. We must not put it off. Your issue will not subside and be "fine" six months from now or two years from now when circumstances change. Like the ring of power, it must be destroyed or it will destroy. And everything it has made us to be in the mean time must die with it; even if that's ten years worth of "you," kiss it goodbye. However much of our identity has been built on that thing, that is how much must be torn down.

Can you imagine being really, really rich and successful, and then having Jesus tell you, "Give it all away"? You would think it ridiculous and wrong, even offensive. But your thoughts would only confirm that he is right. Our kingdom must fall so that his might reign in our hearts. The ring must be destroyed. We must die with Him to our old selves, so that we might be raised to new life with Him. And when we give up our kingdom of autonomy (of hell), we discover a completely new kingdom that is indescribably better...

"The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.
Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it." -Mt. 13:44-45

In closing, consider these two sayings of Jesus. In the first, Jesus tells us that the kingdom of heaven is like a treasure in a field that is so valuable it is worth selling everything we have, everything we are in order to have it. And we should. But how on earth can we possibly bring ourselves to do it? How do we destroy the ring that consumes us? How do we find new life? Our hope is in the second image. Notice, the kingdom of heaven in the second line is not like a pearl. The kingdom is like a merchant - a merchant who gave up everything for one invaluable pearl. You are that pearl. The kingdom of heaven sold its one and only Son to buy you out of slavery. He gave up himself so that you could be set free - to be his "disciple" and follow him to the cross where we finally loose the chains of our toxic obsessions; where we die to the old, and are raised to the new.