The Weight We Were Never Meant to Carry Alone

Near the end of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Return of the King, Frodo Baggins collapses on the slopes of Mount Doom. The burden he carries has drained every last reserve of strength. He cannot take another step. And it is here that Samwise Gamgee speaks one of the most powerful lines in all of literature: "I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you." Then Sam lifts his friend onto his back and climbs.

Tolkien knew something about community that the church has always known. He wrote those pages while living in close fellowship with C.S. Lewis and the other Inklings — men who read each other's drafts, challenged each other's thinking, and prayed through two world wars together. The fellowship in the story grew from a fellowship in real life.

Notice what Sam does not say. He does not say, "Give me the ring — I'll handle it." He cannot take Frodo's calling from him. But he can put his shoulder underneath the one who is struggling and walk with him toward the fire.

This is exactly what the Apostle Paul describes in Galatians 6:2 — "Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ." We are not called to fix each other. We are called to carry each other.

Every person in this room is either carrying someone or needing to be carried. The body of Christ was designed for both.