I don’t know at what point it became so difficult that I felt I needed to explore the inner regions, but it has reached an impasse.
In the book and film The Fellowship of the Ring the group that has joined to destroy the ring of Sauron finds itself traveling through the Misty Mountains when they are put upon by the forces of evil.
The journey has become too perilous for them to continue on the outside, the surface of Middle Earth, so they seek out the West Gate of the Mines of Moria to travel through the belly of the mountains to reach their goal of eliminating evil from Middle Earth.
I find myself at the gate, or rather in the mines, myself.
Too many times on my journey I have found that the road to my destination has proven to be difficult and so I simply turn back, preferring to live in the Shire under the illusion that there is nothing wrong in the world, or in Rivendell, thinking that my bliss will continue forever.
Whenever I have journeyed out in a new job, a new adventure, or even a new ministry, when the going has gotten rough, I simply blamed it on someone or something else and moved back to the safety of my previous life or started a new journey.
I can no longer do so.
The door to the interior, to who I am on the inside, is guarded by a word, just as the Western Gate. Speak “friend” and enter.
So enter the interior, friends. The darkness. The heaviness of my heart that weighs me down. An interior that, much like Moria, was filled with lightness and happiness and the seeking of that which is precious until it was taken over by the Balrog: that of shadow and fire, the Orcs who seek to consume and kill and overrun my inside, my soul, with temptation and conflict.
Just as Gandalf was afraid of what lies inside Moria, I fear that which lies inside my very self. What will I find? Am I willing to let “friends” or even God Himself shine a light on what has been in darkness for so long? Are we willing to let the light of honesty tear us apart from our very core?
The Balrog, the figure streaming with fire, faces us as we reach the darkest part of our souls. There are parts of myself that I do not understand, a thorn that has been placed there that I can only overcome with prayer, with guidance from “friend”.
This Balrog has infected me from the inside out, consuming me, coloring every relationship and every interaction I have had. It is so much a part of my that I almost hate to let it be exposed to the light. It has destroyed too much in my life. It has ruined too much. I must have it removed.
I stand up to it.
“You shall not pass!”
I show my Balrog that I have the light of Christ, the flame of Anor.
It grows, confronts me further, threatening to consume even the light that I carry until I realize the one thing I must do.
I must travel farther into the depths of myself. I must truly explore me. I must allow myself to die to my idea of what it means to be a saint, for my standard is not the measuring rod.
It hurts. It stings. Death is never easy.
There is no other way to bring the light of Christ into my soul than to expose my very soul to Christ. In doing so I will lose all pride, all sense of what I think I deserve, all sense of what I think is… precious.
I cannot defeat this Balrog with anger, for it is the essence of anger. I cannot defeat it with my intellect, for it is far smarter than me. I cannot reason my way out of this.
To be quite simple: I must eat crow.
My pride must be turned to utter humility as my old self is shattered. My staff that I hold to be so precious is torn apart.
My sword that I have used to tear apart my “enemies” is nothing.
To embrace the complete surrender of myself to Christ I must look my worst temptation in the eye and allow it to be seen in the light of Christ.
It is the first part of the Paschal Mystery. I have been promised Resurrection.
“‘Fly, you fools!’ he cried, and was gone.”
Into the depths.
