If I were a hobbit,

I would consist equal parts Baggins and equal parts Took.

What is a hobbit, you may ask? I direct you to my confidant, J.R.R. Tolkien, for the answer:

I suppose hobbits need some description nowadays, since they have become rare and shy of the Big People, as they call us. They are (or were) a little people, about half our height, and smaller than the bearded Dwarves. Hobbits have no beards. There is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday like sort which helps them to disappear quietly and quickly when large stupid folk like you and me come blundering along, making a noise like elephants which they can hear a mile off. They are inclined to be fat in the stomach; they dress in bright colours (chiefly green and yellow); wear no shoes, because their feet grow natural leathery soles and thick warm brown hair like the stuff on their heads (which is curly); have long clever brown fingers, and good-natured faces, and laugh deep fruity laughs (especially after dinner, which they have twice a day when they can get it). Now you know enough to go with. *

Well no, Professor Tolkien isn’t really my friend. We never met.

He passed in Bournemouth, Hampshire, England two years after I came to be in Pacoima, California.

Separated by age and distance, we also were separated by language. In addition to English, he wrote and spoke fluent Black Speech (of the Orcs of Mordor), and Elvish, all dialects of course.

I spoke none of these languages then, not even American English. (Some say I still don’t.)

I consider him a friend nonetheless. He speaks to me.

No, no. Not in a weird way, but rather, by “telepathy, of course,” as explained by another chap you may know. †

Back to Tolkien: he wrote about hobbits, for which gracious endeavor I salute him, and for which my three daughters revere him—whom not so long ago I called my hobbitses. (They had good-natured faces, laughed deep fruity laughs, and were halfling small as well!)

Professor Tolkien made much of a particular hobbit, one Bilbo Baggins.

Now Baggins loved his comforts, which meant a peaceful day, marked by deep reading, frequent eating, and arm chair dreaming. But Bilbo also was of another hobbit line—that of the Tooks. The Tooks were unlike most hobbits, and especially unlike the Baggins. They loved “going off into the Blue for mad adventures,” marked by death defying battles with dragons, goblins and giants. Bilbo’s Took lineage, latent since youth, was awakened by Gandalf the wizard and a posse of treasure seeking Dwarves looking for a good burglar for hire. And so, Bilbo went, leaving his comforts behind, for treasure (but only for a time . . .).

I understand Bilbo. As I previously said, if I were a hobbit, I would be equal parts Took and equal parts Baggins.

My Took side loves the smell of God’s battles with wicked wizards (false teachers), dragons (thrones, rulers, powers, dominions, and principalities in dark spiritual realms), goblins (watchers), and giants (the carnal enemies of God on earth).

Like Bilbo, I also have embarked on a treasure hunt, not to the mines of the Lonely Mountain, but to the heights of Mount Zion.

I seek not Dwarvish gold, but for the glory of God known through the boundless riches of Christ. ‡

Like Bilbo, I also carry a sword fit for my quest. I wield not a dagger named Sting forged by Elves to fend off spiders and orcs. I wield the sword of the Spirit, which is the active, living word of God, fit to shut the mouths of cosmic powers and evil forces in heavenly places, and to free my heart from thoughts and attitudes that seek to enslave it. §

Like Bilbo, my Baggins side cannot shake my love for comforts.

I love the Scriptures.

I also love libraries. And I love books. I love ideas. I love pursuing Truth, and the meaning of “why?”

But unlike Bilbo, I found a way for my Baggins and Took sides to find contemporaneous place, not in an elaborate hole in the ground, but in a cave that houses a battle station surrounded by my comforts of many kinds:

Yes, within my Man Cave, comforts abound—recliners, books, Saddleback Leather, and portals to the ends of heaven and earth.

I also love recliners. I have one in every important room of my home.

Henry VIII, a cognac club chair, presides in my family room.

If I were a king, my throne would recline!

Yes, I recline much. But I love recliners most when surrounded by books.

I use both, in concert, in many pursuits, whether for the Baggins search of the meaning of life, or the Took spirited work of crafting pen-wrought arrows for the battle front.

Here I ponder and pursue eternal light, and pen missives and reflections to disarm evil wizards, dragons, goblins, and giants with Truth.

Victorious adventure and comforts to you all!

* See Tolkien, John Ronald Reuel The Hobbit London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd., 1973. Print p. 4

† See King, Stephen On Writing New York: Scribner, 2000. Print p. 103 (“What is writing? Telepathy, of course.”)

‡ See 2 Corinthians 4:6-7; Ephesians 3:8; Matthew 13:44.

§ See Ephesians 6:12; Hebrews 4:12.