A Debt That Could Never Be Repaid

When the first volume of The Lord of the Rings appeared in London bookshops on July 29, 1954, it bore only J.R.R. Tolkien's name on the cover. But Tolkien himself knew the story behind the story. For nearly seventeen years, he had labored over the manuscript in his Oxford study, often losing momentum, sometimes abandoning it for months at a time. What kept pulling him back was a friend.

C.S. Lewis and Tolkien had been close companions since 1926, meeting weekly with their literary circle, the Inklings, in Lewis's rooms at Magdalen College and at The Eagle and Child pub on St. Giles' Street. Lewis read draft chapters aloud, offered criticism, and — most crucially — refused to let Tolkien give up. When Tolkien stalled, Lewis prodded. When Tolkien doubted the work had any value, Lewis insisted it did. Years later, Tolkien wrote that what he owed Lewis was not influence "as it is ordinarily understood, but sheer encouragement. He was for long my only audience."

The writer of Ecclesiastes understood this kind of friendship: "Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor. If either of them falls down, one can help the other up." One of the greatest works of the twentieth century exists because one man kept lifting another back to his feet. The Lord Himself designed us for this — not to walk alone, but to be the voice that says to a weary friend, "Keep going. What you're doing matters."