“On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: eleven pipers piping, ten lords a-leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge in a pear tree.” (“The Twelve Days Of Christmas”). I just finished rewatching The Lord of the Rings films for the millionth time, and a part that always gets me comes near the end of The Return of the King. Frodo and Sam have passed through endless pain and torment and have finally reached the foothills of Mount Doom. Even arriving this far is more than any could have dared hope for. As they start to climb the mountain both of them collapse, completely spent and utterly exhausted. Neither of them have an ounce of strength left. But then, you hear this hauntingly beautiful flute solo. It is not really a happy song, and it is so delicate that you feel that it might break. But as you hear this music, Frodo reaches out a hand and digs into the volcanic rock. And then another hand. Somehow he taps into reserves of strength and hope that he didn't know were there and continues to crawl up the mountain. We have all been where Frodo was, with our very last ounce of strength and sanity wrung out of us and nothing left to give. But I hope in those moments, when we can do nothing else, we will listen to that still, small, delicate, hauntingly beautiful flute that resonates deep within our soul and whispers to us that all is not lost, that we are not alone, that there is strength beyond our own and goodness and high beauty beyond this passing shadow. God would not have given us a mission or a quest unless He knew that we could accomplish it, even if we have to crawl on our hands and knees to do so. When I have heard that piper piping and chosen to hope against hope and keep pressing forward even when I thought that I had no strength left, I have witnessed the Hand of the Lord work mighty miracles in my life. This melody of hope was sung by choirs of angels a little over two thousand ago on the evening of the birth of Jesus Christ. It was this same melody that Jesus followed as He bore the weight of the world upon His shoulders, utterly alone, and neither death nor hell could snuff out that melody. I hope that when we are in our very lowest moments, we will remember that Christ is there with us, piping a small and simple melody that will help us to do great things if we will trust enough to follow it. And if we can go no further, then just like Sam did with Frodo, Christ will pick us up and carry us, for we have done all we could, and now it is time to be saved by grace.
