Author: Jon Partlow

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When the Righteous Wear the Ring of the Evil-One

When JRR Tolkien set out to write a sequel to The Hobbit, he ran into a couple of obstacles. First, he never intended to write a follow up to the story and felt like he had no place to go. That said, his public was calling for more information and stories about Hobbits and Middle-earth. Secondly, his background of Middle-earth, The Silmarillion, was never a great narrative, and without a cohesive plot, it kept getting bogged down. His publishers were not excited about going to press with it.

Backed into a corner, Tolkien began thinking creatively how to write another Middle-earth novel. He began wondering about the ring Bilbo found in Gollum’s cave. What if that ring was far more important than just a magical ring, allowing its bearer to turn invisible? So began the backstory to his trilogy novel, The Lord of the Rings.

Briefly, Sauron is the villain who learns the craft of forging rings by the elves. He himself made a series of powerful rings to present them as gifts to the rulers of Middle-earth: men, elves and dwarves. Then, in the fires of Mt. Doom, he forged the One Ring of Power. In it he poured all of his malice, hatred and wicked evil. As long as he wore the One Ring, he controlled all of those who wore the rings he gave as gifts.

The Ring, though, had been lost. As Tolkien began writing his sequel, he decided that the simple ring Bilbo found in Gollum’s cave was the One Ring of Sauron. Because it was in the possession of Sméagol/Gollum, it gave him an unnatural long life and lived some 500 years with the Ring. But the Ring’s “unnatural long life” corrupted Sméagol and malformed him into the hideous creature, Gollum. When Sméagol found the Ring he was one of the river folk like a Hobbit, but after 500 years of holding onto the Ring, he was the nightmarish creature, Gollum. Bilbo, who carried the Ring for sixty years, was on the same path as Gollum. It was giving him an unnaturally long life, but it was already beginning to rot Bilbo from the inside.

So comes the decisive moment in Tolkien’s mind, explored at the Council of Elrond. The Ring of Sauron will only destroy and can never be used for good. It corrupts all who wear it because it has one Master. And it, the Ring, is trying to return to its Master. While the story unfolds, those who sought to use the Ring, even for good, were utterly corrupted the Ring, as powerful as it is, can only be used for evil purposes. It cannot save, but only destroy.

Herein, I fear, is where Christians have struggled and even failed. The temptation to wear the evil Ring on our finger is almost irresistible. In our desire to accomplish good, how many times have we chosen evil as the venue for our crusade, and then justified our behavior? Gossip, anger, lies, deception, lust, abuse, backstabbing, etc. have corrupted our so-called, “higher moral ground.” Even more so when we’ve partnered with people and organizations standing against our core values because we fear without their help we won’t win the “war.”

Paul was concerned about such alliances. In a passage often mistaken for instructions on marriage he questions Christians seeking union with pagans. Yes, 2 Corinthians 6 can be applied to marriage, but nowhere does Paul mention “marriage” in the passage. He does ask a question: “What do righteousness and wickedness have in common” (2 Cor. 6:14b). His question is rhetorical, because the answer is “Nothing.” Righteousness and evil have absolutely nothing in common. So when the righteous decide to use evil as a means to for good, only more evil unfolds. When the righteous chose to wear the evil Ring, instead of the good we hope to accomplish, we end up being used by the evil. Once used, destruction always follows in its wake. Always.

So the next time you think that using evil to accomplish good, think about the times Frodo slipped the Ring on his finger. Because when you sat there (reading the book or watching the movies) and was telling Frodo to stop using the Ring, ask yourself why we ourselves are so willing to put it on our finger?

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

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Bobby Parmley (1934-2020)

“Listen!” so the text says, “A farmer went out to sow his seed.” Thus begins the parable of the sower in Mark 4, one of Bobby Parmley’s favorite passages in the New Testament. The parable is far from the pessimistic mindset and act of futility we might convince ourselves it says. Why does the sower continue to throw his seed after foolishness? Why sow seed where the birds devour it like a teenage boy devouring someone else’s dinner? Why sow seed on the rocky places where it lacks much soil only to be scorched by the sun? Why sow the seed in the thorny plants only to watch it get choked out by the weeds?

I’m sure an answer exists. If we research the background we’ll probably find an explanation. No doubt the reason includes a farmer with his bag of seed grabbing a handful of seeds and dispensing the seed across his body. Surely, most of the seed falls on the good soil. But as he dispenses his seed, it does fall on various types of soil, too. While most of the seed lands on good soil, a number of other seed falls on soil that wasn’t very good. But just because the soil is bad over there, doesn’t mean it’s bad over here. And so the farmer continues to sow his seed. Why? Because he lives in hope that the seed will take root, will grow and will eventually produce a bumper crop.

Hope. Not simply a fantasy of wishful thinking, but rooted in an expectation. A farmer does not plant his seed wishing the crop will grow. No. He plants his seed because he expects his crop to grow. It’s called hope. And as Paul says, “Hope does not disappoint.”

When Paul discusses hope in Romans 5, he places it in a context of suffering, perseverance and character development. Hope is present through the difficult times because God continues to pour out his love into us by means of his Holy Spirit. So we hold fast and forever cling to hope. For hope tells us to endure difficult times, believing that the seed sown will take root in people’s lives.

Herein is where Bobby Parmley lived. As a farmer he believed that seed sown will take root in the lives of the people who were with him. As a Christian man, he believed in an enduring faith that clung to God knowing life always gets better not worse. People under God-spell will reflect his beauty in their lives. Bobby understood that and held onto his seed bag of hope and chose to disperse it to everyone he encountered.

I saw him disperse his seed when he purchased watermelons, cantaloupe, tomatoes and other fruits from the Amish community and delivered them to residents of Todd County. Seeking nothing in return, he’d show up at your house with a big fat watermelon and wish you a “good day,” then move on to the next house. Why? Because he believed that a seed sown in kindness and generosity takes root in his neighbor’s lives to produce a harvest of hope.

I saw him disperse his seed when he hired my son, Matthew, to work for him. Matthew needed to fulfill a requirement for a Merit Badge in Boy Scouts that called for managing money. In other words, he needed a job and at fourteen not many opportunities are available for paid employment. So for one summer, Matthew went out to the Parmleys. He cleaned the pool, power-washed the porch, assemble some equipment and painted one of the small barns. At the end of the summer, he completed all the necessary requirements to earn his Merit Badge. When the next summer rolled around, Bobby approached Matthew to inquire if he was available to work for him again. And for each summer we lived in Elkton, Bobby hired Matthew to work for him. And Matthew will tell you that the quality of his work was low, but Bobby kept hiring him anyway. Why? Because Bobby liked Matthew and believed he was investing far more than just money into a teenager. Because he believed that a seed down in kindness and generosity takes root in Matthew’s life to produce a harvest of hope.

I saw him disperse his seeds on his weekly trash runs. Having collected his own trash, he made a run to his daughters’ homes to get their trash. Then he made his trip to the church building where he collected the church’s trash. Every week he made his trash runs, especially to the building when the trash was overflowing. He wasn’t paid. He never sought recognition. He simply wanted to serve. And he never thought it was beneath him to pick up trash, modeling what biblical servant leadership looks like. Why? Because he believed that a seed sown in kindness and generosity takes root in the West Side Church’s members’ lives to produce a harvest of hope. 

I saw him disperse his seeds when he remodeled his Farmall Tractors. He’d take old, rusty tractors and begin the process of refurbishing them. He’d disassemble the tractor and ensure every part was accounted for. He’d clean and scrub away the dirt and grim, and then grind away the rust. If parts were missing, broken or damaged, he’d have to search and find the right replacement piece. The final touch to the process was the paint job, making the tractor shine like new. Like new. Like God’s promise to make “all things news” (Rev.21:5). Why? Because he believed that a seed sown in kindness and generosity takes root, and can be visually expressed in the renovation of . . . how many old tractors . . . to show what can be, as a means to produce a harvest of hope.

I saw him disperse his seeds when he treated people with grace instead of vengeance, which is what they probably deserved. Some people ignored, dismissed and even belittled Bobby behind his back. Other people took full advantage of his kind generosity, thinking they may have pulled the wool over his eyes. In truth, Bobby was rarely fooled; every now and then – not very often – he’d share with me his assessment of people and situations. But he made the conscience decision to treat people better than they treated him, almost like Jesus said, “pray for your enemies” (Mt. 5:44). He refused to allow others to wound him, and chose to continue to respect people even when they refused to respect him. He was intentional, because esteeming others emerged from his Christian faith in Jesus. Why? Because he believed that a seed sown in kindness and generosity takes root even in his enemies’ lives to produce a harvest of hope.

I saw him disperse his seeds with his selective hearing. Sure, sometimes when you were talking to him or around him he couldn’t hear what was being said. He’d smile and nod as if he were engaged, but you knew he wasn’t. But there were other times when he heard everything being said and was engaged in the conversation at hand. He’d smile and nod because he was engaged, and maybe even spoke into the conversation. Then there were those “in between/selective hearing” moments. He heard you. He just didn’t want you to know he heard you. So he’d smile and nod, and you’d walk away thinking, “did he or didn’t he hear what was being said?”

 This “game” played out before my very eyes. The setting and the situation is irrelevant and I’ll protect all parties involved. I assessed that Bobby wasn’t hearing anything that was being said, and yet he was speaking into the conversation awkwardly. I was thinking, “Oh, poor Bobby. You’re not hearing what’s being said.” I felt bad for him. But then a couple of days later we were talking. And he joked about the previous conversations. I looked at him and clarified, “You heard everything that was being said?” Then his cheesy smile broke across his face and his eyes lit up, like he just got away with eating the last piece of cake against Anna Jo’s direction, and he began to nod.

And on that day I learned something about Bobby. He never had an agenda, nor did he work the angles. He was too simplistic or innocent in his thinking to step into deception and manipulation. He walked by his moral compass to guide him through what was right and wrong. And when he felt like something was pulling him from True North, he knew he had to pull it back. It wasn’t about getting what he wanted, but about doing what is right. Why? Because he believed that a seed sown in kindness and generosity takes root in people’s lives to produce a harvest of hope.

I saw him disperse his seeds through is grandchildren. Every day he was sitting down at the Square to pick Robert up from school at North Todd, and he always looked forward to his time with his grandson. And usually Robert needed a snack at DQ, so that’s where you’d find them. Mind you, when I say, “Robert needed a snack,” I’m not sure if it was Robert Sawyers or Robert Parmley who needed the snack. But my guess is that the two of them created and nurtured their bond in those moments after school pickups. Evidence of that fruit surfaced when Robert was in high school. A friend of his was left without a ride and Robert knew his papaw was more than willing to take the boy home (did you catch that Robert knew his grandfather’s generosity). While assuring his friend of a ride, Bobby pulled up in the truck and Robert said, “Papaw, will it be ok to take my friend home?” And Bobby’s response was in the best possible gentleness we’ve come to know when he said, “Sure!” and looking at the stranger, and I could see his quirky smile and saucer like eyes, as he inquired, “but who are you?” I’m convinced that Bobby did his best to sow those seeds in Robert.

Katie captured hers and Bobby’s relationship on a FaceBook post by describing his wisdom as “timeless,” especially when he advised her during those times when she was scared, confused or needed to know how to shave her legs. He also knew which shaving creams were the best brands to use. His smile and gentle laugh could change the mood in an instant. I was an eyewitness to the support Bobby gave Katie. Even though sitting on bleachers were always uncomfortable, his stubborn will persisted to show up at her dances. Nothing was going to stop him from watching his granddaughter perform, which makes Katie’s closing comment on Bobby clear. She wished everyone had a grandfather like him. And his proud support of his granddaughter were the seeds sown in Katie.  

Sadly, Ava will never have the same memories. But her momma will tell her about late afternoon Fridays when Bobby showed up to her house. He’d sit on the chair and just hold his granddaughter in his arms, while mom cooked dinner – because with Bobby food was always top priority. Always. And as a grandfather who has a granddaughter about a year older than Ava, nothing takes the place of holding that little girl in your arms. Suddenly, the obscure verse in Genesis strikes the heart, “. . . and (Joseph) saw the third generation of Ephraim’s children” (Gen. 50:23). Not a lot of engagement, but enough for seeds to be planted. Enough for a seed of faith to be planted for the next generation. No, Ava won’t remember Bobby. But Bobby’s presence will be felt in Ava when she’s told how Bobby held her as a baby. And she’ll learn about her grandfather by her mother and father, grandmother and cousins who will share the kind of seed he chose to sow. Why? Because Bobby believed that a seed sown in kindness and generosity takes root in people’s lives to produce a harvest of hope.

So the parable of the sower sowing seed on the soil begins with a call to “Listen!” and ends with the same call, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear” (Mk. 4:9). Where Jesus grabs our attention at the beginning of the parable, he challenges us to comprehend his parable at its conclusion. It’s not about intellectual property, but about “being” and “doing.” For we all have the seed of the gospel and we can allow it to take root in our lives or not. Which is really what the parable is about, isn’t it? It’s not really about the farmer or the seed, but about the soil. Its message pushes us to survey our own soil to see which one we are: a crusty path acting as a dinner plate for the birds, or rocky places where the seed sprouts but is scorched by the sun, or a thorny weed with a chokehold on anything that shows life, or good, rich soil that produces a harvest. I believe we’d all agree that Bobby was fertile soil for the gospel which allowed it to take root in his life. His kindness and generosity was easily spotted as he cultivated a harvest of hope in the people he encountered. I guess the only question to pursue at this juncture is, “What kind of soil are you?”

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Loosing Everything while Fading to Black & White like the Son Going Down on Me

As Archie Williams took the stage for his two minutes to shine on America’s Got Talent, my heart began aching as I gasped, hoping, “Please don’t fail.” While I had yet to hear him sing, and I was unaware of his story, I just saw what appeared to be a broken man take the stage. He wore a light blue suit that hung on him; actually it wore him more than he wore it. He walked with a bent knee, almost struggling as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. The truth is, he was.

Simon Cowell began the interview. Archie survived thirty-six plus years in the brutal and bloody Louisiana State Penitentiary in Angola, often referred to as the Alcatraz of the South. But he was innocent. Sure, he was convicted, not only of rape, but also of attempted murder of a woman in 1983. But he had witnesses saying he was home. His fingerprints didn’t match the ones at the crime scene. The woman couldn’t identify him in a picture array, at least not at first. But the public was crying for “justice,” and no one really cared if the right man was caught or not. So Archie was innocently walking down his street when the police arrested him. And since he was poor – and since he was black – he couldn’t afford a lawyer and get proper representation. He was found guilty and served a life sentence plus 80 years in hell. The woman and victim was white.  

Redemption, though, came from two sources. He threw himself into Jesus, praying and singing gospel songs with other prisoners, until DNA evidence exonerated him from his sentence. Sure he lost thirty-six years of his life. But in his own words, and in the spirit of Nelson Mandela, “Freedom is of the mind. I went to prison, but I never let my mind go to prison.”

So the music began with a simple piano, and I was hoping beyond hope that he wouldn’t fail. With courage in his heart, his soulful voice began to sing Elton John’s, “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me.” He slowed the tempo and uttered the words in new and refreshing tones. Listening to his song, it was like hearing it for the first time. It wasn’t long before the audience, stunned in reverent silence, had given him their hearts. When he finished, he brought the crowd to its feet in cheers and me to tears. In one moment he was offered redemption. The weight of the world was lifted. And in that same moment he shared that redemption with love and mercy.  

I looked at my phone. Social media had blown up, not about Archie Williams’ performance, but about George Floyd. The news reported that four Minneapolis police officers were fired from the force for their role in the death of Floyd. Following reports of a forgery, they found Floyd sitting on his car. Suspecting he was guilty, they placed cuffs on him, then claimed he was resisting an arrest. Soon he was on the ground with one of the officers, one of the white officers, pressing his knee on the neck of Floyd, a black man. The move violated police protocol and ignored standard apprehension procedures. The white officer took a knee on the neck of a black man, while Floyd was pleading for his life. “I can’t breathe!” “I can’t breathe!” “I can’t breathe” were the last words spoken by George Floyd.

We are losing everything while fading to black and white, and the Son is going down on me.

To say “we’re struggling to “’love our neighbor’” is an understatement. At present, it’s clear we don’t even know who our neighbor is. Anger. Hatred. Resentment. Pride. Prejudice. Denial. A festering cancer is metastasizing in our society, destroying the very fabric of our own humanity. At best we’re looking the other way as another story appears on our newsfeed that a person of color suffers at the hands of the privileged. At worse, we’re the guilty throwing shade on someone because of their skin’s color. Our actions continue to betray our words. We claim, “Man was made in the image of God,” then disqualify our truth with, “just not that man.” So John reminds us that if we can’t love the people of color, how can we say we love the God who made the people of color (1 Jn. 4:20)?

If we don’t turn the tide toward racial reconciliation, then we’ll lose everything while fading to black and white, with the Son going down on me.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)