Islander VI opens with some introductory words, two pages of correspondence, and an article on Samwise Gamgee. Now, that article on Gamgee I won’t object to, except to say that Frodo must not be forgotten in admiring Samwise (saying this when Samwise is, alongside Gollum, my favorite character from my favorite book). And, since my ‘reviews’ are (as seen in my 9-article Islander V review series) as much response as review, I’ll content myself with simply recommending Johnson’s article as a good summation of an aspect of The Lord of the Rings. That leaves me with today’s main topic: one of the bits of correspondence.

(Though I must highly recommend the discussion of ‘Lodwynn’ in the first letter starting on page 6. The importance of local bonds and community is immense, although very difficult in practice to start and cultivate, in a culture less and less mature.)

All Substack and Creational Story articles responding to Islander end up here eventually.

A ‘Jozoken’ (such is the name given) writes of his perspective on our duty in life: “Just as Christ took up the cross, it is our duty to bear the burdens of the world, and to heave forward towards what is good… To truly pick up your cross is to recognise that, fair or not, all the sins of the world are laid at your feet, personally, and it is your duty to make the best of it that you can. Even, if not especially, those things which you feel are someone else’s fault… become your responsibility…. Yes, it seems impossible. But that’s what makes it worthy. That’s what makes it heroic. Keep calm, and carry on” (Pg. 5).

At first glance, all appears well. But some thought reveals deep issues with this correspondent’s admonition. Now, with the minimal context offered (I have quoted perhaps 30% of the letter printed), it is entirely possible the letter gives a misleading perspective of the writer’s beliefs, that he intends these words in a more limited sense than he conveys. But with respect to his care, I must assume that what he says, he means, and I will be answering on those terms; if the author of the letter wishes to correct me (whether to correct my understanding of him or to add elaboration), I’ll gladly hear. Try commenting here, or ping me on X.

The letter presents a vision of life in which the Christian (or philosopher? It is not clear to me whether Christ is cited as Divine or as an example of human wisdom) takes on the problems of the world as his burden, calling this undertaking “heroic.” Perhaps it would be; in a sense it was. But it’s not coherent to reality.

The Christian saint (any saved individual) does not bear all the sins of the world; indeed, to think to do so in certain contexts would be anathema. Christ bore all the sins of His people. He did not bear all the sins of mankind (John 3:16 is for whosoever, not everybody); all of those who reject Him, having never been changed in heard (John 3:1-5), will bear the consequences of their own sin in the end, once their probation on this earth comes to an end with their physical death. Christ bore all the sins of His people, so that we no longer bear our own sins; He bore His cross for all of us.

Christ’s salvation of men is not limited to justification, to bearing their guilt and giving them His righteousness. It extends also to sanctification: making the man actually, and not only legally, holy. Man being the steward of Creation (Gen. 1:28) and in relationship with other men (Matt. 28:18-20), such sanctification naturally and necessarily entails a holy-making of the whole world, of man’s society (the sum of his relationships) and his environment (his field of vocation). Indeed, Christ rules this world entirely already (Col. 1:16-17; Ps. 2; Rev. 21-22).

The Christian therefore works out His already-accomplished conquest. God is pleased to have us as the means of the revelation and effecting of His authority upon this earth. Be Thou My Vision speaks of Christ as our “victory won” (verse 5), an elegant summation of this truth. The Christian does indeed ‘take on’ all the problems of the world around him, including his own problems; he does have a responsibility to war upon them unceasingly (Col. 3:23; Phil. 4:4; Deut. 4:1-8, 6:4-8; Rom. 13:8-10; John 14:15; Rom. 8:13). We do not bear His cross; we do not bear the sins of others. We do not even bear our own guilt, that task being beyond us, for He has born it (Is. 53:10-12). We bear instead the armor of the Lord to strike down evil in high places and in low (Eph. 6:10-20; Ps. 119:46, 149:6; Is. 2:3, 66:18-19).

But what of, say, Luke 9, where we are told by Christ, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (v23)? In that context, note, Christ says “his cross” not ‘My cross’ or ‘the cross.’ Indeed, in this context Christ speaks not of a Christian duty to take on the world’s sins (contra 2 Kings 14:6 and Jeremiah 31:30). He is instead admonishing those who follow Him that they must set aside their love of self and their selfish ambition. They must “deny” themselves and take up the difficult duty of following Him, of obedience to Him. Christ’s figure for this obedience is the ‘cross,’ the instrument of His own supreme obedience, by which He carries out His covenant, and so He urges us to imitate His example, not by pretending to be Him but by being likewise obedient in ways suited to our nature, as His was to His.

This, now, is a meaning truly uncongenial to the human heart.

The letter avers that its missions seems “impossible” but that this apparent impossibility (actual impossibility?) is what makes the whole thing heroic. In comparison, the Christian duty seems a little diminished: we fight a war already won, bleeding and sweating and dying in a work we do not determine the end to. But beware, for romantic impossibility is a thing beloved by the heart of sin.

See, if each of us takes on all the guilt of the world, we each make ourselves the center of the world therein, singularly and incomparably important. I would assert that I, even I, am a hero making the world right. Already the letter has begun to do so. And the end of this process is to assume God’s place as the one responsible for victory- while being absolved, through acknowledge impossibility, of the shame of my certain failure. Man cannot fix everything, so why should he be blamed for trying? (Responsibility, in truth, is never greater than ability, though often greater than will-force (1 Cor. 10:13; John 14:26; Is. 26:12).)

The Christian is called to humility. We did not win the victory.

The Christian is called to overweening pride. We stride in the Victor’s train.

The Christian is called to work out his salvation in fear and trembling (Phil. 2:12), boasting with deeds and holiness (Ps. 148-150) of His victory and work (Gal. 6:14; Heb. 3:6). He is called to stand before every viciousness in this world and turn it back, to be broken before bowing (Acts 5:29). He is called to stride forward by God’s strength alone (Is. 26:12) to make clear His complete dominion (Dan. 7:9-14). Every sin, every vice, every evil in the world is his quarry; as such, they are also his inveterate foe, immeasurably strong by comparison, Barad-Dur above the hobbit. And the Christian knows they have already been toppled and rendered hopeless, that their ruin in time has already been determined by One who regards them as naught; he knows that as his bones break and his blood flees, as every sinew strains, that even then victory has already been wrought by Jesus Christ who bore the sins of His people and swore that the world was and would be made anew; he knows that in the end he shall stand eternally joyful in praise of the Lord of glory (Ps. 24; Rev. 21-22).

God bless.