Surrender & Give
Some thoughts ahead of Thanksgiving
We should give as we would receive, cheerfully, quickly, and without hesitation; for there is no grace in a benefit that sticks to the fingers - SENECA
At the beginning of J. R. R. Tolkien’s story The Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins has every reason to stay home. Safe and comfortable sitting in his armchair and tending his garden in Bag End, Bilbo is by all accounts the least likely adventurer. And yet, his life changes forever when Thorin Oakenshield’s company interrupts his peaceful life in the Shire, awakening his latent Tookish tendencies and hurling him into the adventure of a lifetime.
At the start, Bilbo is flustered by the bunch of Dwarves invading his home with their unsophisticated merriments. He’s conflicted. Hobbiton’s societal pressures to be polite compete with his desire for peace and quiet. Now these rogue Dwarves are eating him out of hearth and home, and Bilbo doesn’t even know the purpose of their visit.
Over the course of a long evening, however, Bilbo comes to learn that Thorin and his men have lost their homeland. A deep love for home is natural in any Hobbit, and Bilbo is no exception. He sympathizes with his guests’ misfortunes.
In fact, his sympathy for their plight is enough to convince him to join Thorin in a quest through the cold of the Misty Mountains, to the realm of the Trolls, and into a dragon’s lair to burgle their treasure back from the greed of Smaug.
Bilbo has many chances to forsake the group. In fact, he has every reason and excuse to abandon the cause. He owes his uninvited guests nothing. He is neither a burglar nor a swordsman. He’s a gardener.
Say what you will about Peter Jackson’s three-film adaptation of The Hobbit, but one moment Jackson hits pitch-perfect is the conclusion of An Unexpected Journey. Immediately after Thorin and the dwarves escape the wargs pursuing them, with the help of a wayward Bilbo, Thorin asks why Bilbo returned to the quest when he had every chance to slip away.
Bilbo replies with simple honesty, “I often think of Bag End. I miss my books and my armchair, and my garden. That’s where I belong. That’s home. And that’s why I came back, because you don’t have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can.”
“To whom much is given, much is required.” That’s how Jesus responded to one of his disciples when asked for whom his ministry in Galilee and Judea was being directed.
What have you been given? What, in turn, is required of you?
What impulse to help others, to donate, or to volunteer have you ignored? You are not alone. It’s something we all feel in sharp pangs with regularity: I could help. But when we peek at our checking account, and we’ve got barely enough for the next tank of gas, we shelve the impulse for “another day.”
It’s not a good time.
Later, when I’m more financially secure…
…there will be room for charity and generosity.
That might be true, but where do we draw the line? “Do not hesitate!” exclaims Epictetus, “Follow through on all your generous impulses. Do not question them.” In classic Stoic fashion, Epictetus ascribes this goodness to our reason and suggests we follow it with confidence that we will be safe in the end.
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Christians may nod in agreement. We do feel these pulls toward the light — the spontaneous and giving spirit — yet it seems to us that the ultimate challenge in those moments is to keep “reason” in its place. Even the radical self-giving nature of Christ seems quite unreasonable. The gospel is “foolishness to the Greeks” as Paul notes in 1st Corinthians.
But Epictetus is right. Charity and generosity are actually quite reasonable. Take it from C.S. Lewis, who opens his famed Screwtape Letters with two demons discoursing about the dangers of engaging “reason” in the minds of men and women. Far from being a human spark that leads us exclusively toward the secular, worldly, and scientific, reason begs of us certain questions that the ordinary world can’t quite answer.
What seems clear to both Greek philosopher and Christian alike is that we humans feel a calling from beyond ourselves, manifested in our guts, that isn’t found in our basest nature.
Retired investigative journalist turned evangelist and best-selling author, Lee Strobel, has spoken of how he once emptied out his bank account upon becoming a Christian to send an anonymous cashier’s check to a single woman in his church on a Friday afternoon. The impulse hit, and the number in mind was specific. On Monday morning, that same woman’s car broke down, prompting her to call Strobel for his prayers. Strobel found this somewhat funny, and he prayed for her, knowing that his anonymous check was already on its way.
We all need to live more like Lee. But in our effort to control every aspect of our lives, to manage our environment and ensure our own comfort, we bury our generous compulsions.
We have to let go. Surrender is a vital part of gratitude and living faithfully to your calling.