Eowyn: “My Lord! Aragorn! I am to be sent with the women into the caves.”
Aragorn: “That is an honorable charge.”
Eowyn: “To mind the children, to find food and bedding when the men return. Where is the renown in that?”
Aragorn: “My lady, there may come a time for valor without renown.”
Valor: strength of mind or spirit that enables a person to encounter danger with firmness; personal bravery.
Renown: a state of being widely acclaimed and highly honored; fame
Growing up, my mind and heart were fed by incredible stories, historical and imagined alike. Missionary biographies. Fantasy novel epics. The Bible with all its intrigues and ups and downs and heroes and villains.
My mind and heart yearned to be heroic, daring, brave, lose it all, gain it all, lose my life, find it. I wanted to do Great ThingsTM. I wanted to be a heroine. But my life couldn’t be any more ordinary.
The mundanity of Mondays and clocking in to work and making my bed (which I rarely do) isn’t very exciting or noteworthy. For some reason, extraordinary faithfulness seems better than everyday faithfulness. Like, it would be hard, obviously, but at least it would be epic. At least it would mean more. Right?
But it seems that most of us disciples of Jesus are not called to extraordinary, history- shaping lives. It seems that most of us are called to the quiet, hidden life, to secret faithfulness. As a child, I underestimated the valor an ordinary life requires.
Perhaps I am alone in this, but sometimes I find that ordinary faithfulness requires all the strength of mind and spirit I can muster. To swim upstream against my flesh and the sin that clings so closely… that requires everything good in me and more (i.e. – the Holy Spirit).
Valor without renown.
Courageous faithfulness without a biography. Courage that the pilgrims 100 years from now will never hear of.
I’m not another Corrie Ten Boom. Or Betsy Ten Boom. Or Hudson Taylor. Or Martin Luther. Or William Wilberforce. Or Jim Elliot… or Elisabeth Elliot. Or Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Or George Mueller. My name will be forgotten in just a generation or two. And so will yours, most likely.
Most of us are not called to invent written languages and translate the Bible into those languages. Most of us (in the West) are not called to die for our faith in Jesus. Most of us are not called to lead a revival or a spiritual awakening. Most of us are not called to go against the greatest evil of our generation. Instead, most of us are called to ordinary faithfulness, and the greatest evil we usually fight is our own.
But sometimes it’s hard to believe that ordinary faithfulness—just being a regular disciple of Jesus—matters.
Most of the time, when I’m reading or studying my Bible, it isn’t all that life-changing. It doesn’t seem like it’s renewing me. It doesn’t seem like I’m being searched, soul and spirit, by a living Word. It just feels like I’m reading a really, really old book from a culture really, really different than mine.
Most of the time, when I’m in the ring with sin, only one or two other people know the battle in my heart. Victories over sin and temptation that seem to take everything out of me go by secretly.
Most of the time, my evangelism is a stuttering mess. Most of the time, I go years between seeing salvations bloom from somewhere within my sphere of influence (and usually, I’m only tangentially involved).
Most of the time forgiveness is like pulling teeth, and sometimes even after the will-bending act of forgiveness, vengeance still looks appealing. And then it’s like I’m back at square one trying to love my enemies the way Jesus loved me (his enemy).
Most of us are called to church prayer meetings with low attendance. Most of us are called to seek and pursue just one or two people for the gospel at a time. Most of us are called to family discipleship and trying to teach little hearts who Jesus is. Most of us are called to comfort crying babies and sit with a friend through grief. Most of us are called to daily prayers for daily bread. Most of us are called to traffic on our daily commute. Most of us are called to be kind when we can’t find a kind bone in our bodies.
Valor without renown.
A hidden life is precious, but sometimes it’s easy to wonder if it is worth it. And the point of this whole post is to tell you it is.
Quiet, hidden, private, unseen, unpraised, unrecognized obedience (or courage or faithfulness) is always seen by our Father in heaven. He sees in the secret. He’s the heart-searcher.
Wherever you find yourself discouraged or doubting, don’t give up.
The long haul can be so daunting because it is long, and the hidden obedience can seem so lackluster because it is hidden. But as Aragorn says in The Lord of the Rings, “The deeds will not be less valiant [or good or faithful] because they are unpraised.” While no human eyes may see you and what you do, a certain pair of holy eyes miss nothing.
Christian, you can go nowhere from his presence. He searches you and knows you. He discerns all your thoughts. He knows when you rise up and when you lie down. He knows when you win and when you stumble. He is familiar with all your ways of thinking and doing and being and feeling. He walks before you, beside you, and behind you. Before you know, he knows what you’ll say.
Christian, if you were to go hide at the bottom of the ocean, he is there. If you were to rise like the sun, he is there. If you live through the longest night on the earth, he is there, and even the darkest darkness isn’t dark to him.
Our Father sees in the secret, and he will reward you. His attention to detail is unmatched.
So, if there’s a part of your life where you’re feeling discouraged or beaten down or doubting if it even matters to do something (or not do something), know you’re in good company, and it does matter. Far more Christians have plodded simple paths of ordinary obedience than those who have wrought the grandest works.
So keep praying when you feel like there’s no hope left. Keep showing up to Christian community. Keep changing diapers. Keep getting dressed and going to work. Keep praying for that same thing you’ve been praying about for a decade. Keep fighting that sin in your heart. Keep meditating on and memorizing pieces of Scripture. Keep pushing through anxiety and depression. Keep submitting your will to the Father’s. Keep believing that Jesus will return and make all things new, just like he promised.
If you see someone being faithful in small ways, encourage them. And when you’re getting weary of the long haul and wondering if any of it matters, I pray our Father will send someone to encourage you at the right time. Lift up your head, my fellow pilgrim. There is beauty in your valor without renown.
Further up and further in,
Rosalie
p.s. – the quote at the beginning is proof to us all that I don’t know how to correctly quote a movie. But oh well. There’s no one here to stop me, mwahahaha.
