The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring — The Burden Is Yours, but You Were Never Meant to Carry It Alone

I am finally beginning The Lord of the Rings on Screen Devotions, my favorite film series of all time. I have been looking forward to this one for a long time. For me, exploring Lord of the Rings biblical themes is not about forcing every character into a one-to-one Christian symbol, but about asking what these characters reveal about power, calling, temptation, mercy, fellowship, and our own humanity.

As many of you already know, I also started covering another series I love, Star Wars, a few weeks ago. It does not quite reach The Lord of the Rings for me personally, but it is still one of my favorites. I also plan to begin The Chronicles of Narnia soon. Being able to return to the fantasy and epic films I have loved for years, one by one, and explore the biblical questions and human struggles within them is something I genuinely enjoy.

Before getting into The Fellowship of the Ring, however, I want to make one thing clear. I am not going to build this reflection around a one-to-one symbolic framework in which “Frodo is Jesus, the One Ring is sin, and Gandalf is a prophet.” Of course, a small hobbit carrying an enormous burden for the sake of the world can remind us of sacrifice, and the corrupting influence of the Ring can remind us of sin. Those connections can be meaningful. But if we immediately decide that one character represents Jesus and then assign biblical roles to everyone else, I think we end up returning to the same formula found in countless Christian film analyses.

Instead, I want to look at Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Boromir, Arwen, Gandalf, and even Gollum as mirrors reflecting different parts of our humanity. At times, we may be like Frodo, afraid but still willing to accept responsibility. At other times, we may be like Sam, remaining faithfully beside someone else.

We may be like Boromir, beginning with a good intention but becoming vulnerable to temptation. We may be like Aragorn, wrestling with the shadow of the past, or we may discover something of Gollum in ourselves when we have held onto a desire for far too long. That is why the question I want to ask throughout this series is not simply, “Who represents Jesus?” but rather, “Which of these characters reflects something in me?”

I also cannot talk about The Lord of the Rings without talking about the music. I love the soundtrack so much that I honestly would not want to leave a single piece out. I feel the same way about the second and third films, but the first film especially draws me into Middle-earth through its music alone—from the peaceful themes of the Shire to the way the sound gradually expands as the world grows larger and the Fellowship begins to form. That sense of immersion created by the music, atmosphere, and world-building is one of the reasons I have been able to return to these films again and again.

Yet beneath that beautiful music and enormous fantasy world are deeply human questions. How does power change us? Why is the greatest responsibility sometimes given to the smallest person? How far should we go in helping someone else carry a burden? Can dangerous means be justified by a good purpose? Why do terrible things happen in the time in which we happen to live? Is there another chance for someone who has failed? And does someone who has done evil still deserve mercy? I think The Fellowship of the Ring asks all of these questions.

1. The Ring — Can Dangerous Power Be Used for a Good Purpose?

The One Ring is too complex to describe simply as “a symbol of sin.” It can certainly remind us of sin because it awakens desire, creates possessiveness, and eventually begins to control the person who tries to possess it. But what interests me even more is that the Ring does not always tempt people in an obviously evil form. At times, it appears to be a powerful tool that could be used to accomplish something good.

This is why Gandalf and Galadriel’s refusal of the Ring matters so much. If either of them possessed it, it might seem possible to use its power to fight Sauron, protect the weak, and defeat evil. The danger is that the moment someone begins to believe such power can be controlled for noble purposes, that power may begin to change the person instead. The Ring is not merely something that causes evil people to do evil things. It is also a temptation that can convince a well-intentioned person, “I can use this power properly.”

Boromir makes this issue even clearer. He loves Gondor and wants to protect his people. His desire does not begin as simple greed. In fact, it begins with something good—the desire to save others. And that is exactly what makes his temptation more dangerous. Most of us can easily recognize that using evil means for an evil purpose is wrong. But the thought,

“If the goal is good, perhaps the wrong means can be justified,”

is much more subtle. We begin to reason, “Isn’t the result what really matters?” “Isn’t some compromise necessary?” “If I know I would use this power for good, why shouldn’t I use it?”

A biblical life is concerned not only with the destination but also with the road we take to reach it. We cannot choose evil simply because we hope for a good result. Perhaps true self-control is revealed not when we have no power, but when we have the ability to use power and still choose to lay it down. That leaves me with an uncomfortable question: am I ever justifying the wrong kind of power or method simply because I believe my goal is good?

2. Why Frodo? — Why Is the Greatest Burden Given to Someone So Small?

Frodo is not one of the powerful figures of Middle-earth. He is not a great warrior like Aragorn, he does not possess Legolas’s extraordinary skill, and he is not a hardened fighter like Gimli. He is a small and ordinary hobbit. Yet when no one at the Council of Elrond can easily decide what should be done, Frodo is the one who finally steps forward and says that he will carry the Ring.

That scene makes me think about the way we often imagine calling. We tend to assume that someone must first be strong, fully prepared, and more capable than everyone else before being entrusted with something important. Scripture does not always show us that pattern. Moses protested that he was not eloquent, and David did not initially look like the person anyone would expect to become a great king. The qualities God values are not always the same as the abilities the world admires.

Frodo is not remarkable because he is stronger than everyone else. He is not fearless either. What makes him remarkable is that he steps forward even while knowing how small he is. I do not think responsibility and calling always arrive after we feel completely ready. Sometimes they begin with the question, “Can I really do this?”

Being small does not mean being useless. Feeling inadequate does not mean being incapable of being called. Perhaps what matters most is not how impressive I am, but whether I am willing to faithfully walk the road placed before me.

3. Fellowship — The Burden May Be Yours, but That Does Not Mean You Must Carry It Alone

One of the things I love most about The Fellowship of the Ring is the word in its title: Fellowship. Frodo has Sam, Merry, and Pippin, and he is joined by Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Boromir, and Gandalf. They come from different peoples, carry different histories, and are not perfectly united from the beginning. Yet they begin walking toward the same purpose together.

This reminds me of the way we live out the responsibilities God gives us. I do not believe that God gives us a path and then expects us to endure every part of it alone. He places people in our lives. At times, we receive help; at other times, we become the person who stands beside someone else. But there is an important distinction here:

helping someone carry a burden is not the same as living that burden on their behalf.

The Ring ultimately remains Frodo’s burden. The Fellowship can protect him, clear the way, and fight beside him, but once someone else tries to possess the Ring, another kind of danger begins. I think this distinction matters in families and church communities as well. Even with good intentions, parents can try to make every decision for their children, friends can try to solve every problem for one another, and a church community can begin taking over responsibilities that another person needs to learn to carry. In doing so, we may actually remove the space that person needs in order to grow.

Sam shows this beautifully. He does not try to take Frodo’s calling away from him. Instead, when Frodo tries to leave alone, Sam follows him. Sam’s greatness is not found in saying, “I will live your calling instead of you,” but in embodying something much closer to,

“If this burden is yours to carry, I will not leave your side.”

Community is not a place where we live another person’s life for them. It is a place where we remain beside them so that they can faithfully walk the road that is theirs to walk. The burden may belong to that person, but that does not mean they were meant to walk alone.

4. Boromir — Even a Good Desire Can Be Distorted by Temptation

I do not want to see Boromir simply as a weak character who became greedy for the Ring. I think he matters precisely because he is so much like us. He loves his homeland, he knows that his people are dying, and he desperately wants to protect them. That is why the Ring does not look like mere treasure to him. It looks like one final means of saving the people he loves.

But good intentions do not automatically make every decision good. Human beings can move in the wrong direction for reasons that feel completely sincere. I think that is what makes Boromir such a realistic character. One of the phrases we often use to justify ourselves is, “I meant well.” But good intentions do not remove our responsibility for the methods we choose or the consequences that follow.

What makes Boromir’s story meaningful, however, is that his failure is not the final image we are given of him. He falls under temptation and acts wrongly, but afterward he recognizes what he has done and turns back to defend his companions. That makes me think of repentance. Repentance is not magic that erases the past. The consequences of our choices may remain. But repentance can become the beginning of turning in a different direction.

The Christian life is not simply about becoming a person who never falls. We can make wrong choices, become shaken by desire, and hurt other people. The deeper question is whether we will allow that failure to become our final identity or whether, by grace, we will turn again toward what is right.

5. “I Wish It Need Not Have Happened in My Time” — Why Did This Have to Happen in My Time?

One of my favorite conversations in The Fellowship of the Ring is the exchange between Frodo and Gandalf. Frodo grieves the fact that he has to live through such a terrible time. Why did these events have to happen during his lifetime? I think that question is deeply human.

When I think back to The Prince of Egypt, which I previously covered on Screen Devotions, the Israelites cry out in slavery through the song “Deliver Us.” Their suffering raises the same painful question: why is this happening, and when will rescue come? Our world is obviously different, but we still live through wars, famine, natural disasters, earthquakes, floods, illnesses, losses, and failures we never expected. In moments like these, we may also ask God,

“Why did this have to happen in the time in which I live?”

Yet when we look at human history, there has never been an age completely free from brokenness and suffering. The world was broken when Israel suffered in Egypt, it was broken when Jesus walked the earth, and it remains broken now. Until the full restoration Scripture promises, we continue living in a world marked by sin and suffering.

That is why Gandalf’s response matters so much. We cannot choose the age into which we are born, and we cannot choose every circumstance that comes to us. But we can decide what to do with the time that has been given to us. In faith, “Why did this happen?” is not a wrong question. Sometimes we may carry it before God for a long time. But eventually another question must also emerge:

“Then how will I live in the middle of this?”

We did not choose our time, but we can choose how faithfully we live within it.

6. Mercy Before Judgment — Did Gollum Deserve Mercy?

I also do not want to overlook the conversation between Frodo and Gandalf about Gollum. In Frodo’s eyes, Gollum seems like someone who has already gone too far. He has been consumed by the Ring, he is dangerous, and he has done terrible things. Frodo therefore believes that he deserves to die. Gandalf reminds him, however, that Bilbo once had the opportunity to kill Gollum and chose instead to pity him and let him live.

That scene makes me think about the way we judge other people. We can look at someone at their worst and decide that we already know the ending of their entire story. “That person will never change.” “That person does not deserve forgiveness.” “There is no reason to give that person another chance.” But we do not know how another person’s story will end.

Of course, this does not mean ignoring sin or refusing to hold evil accountable. Mercy and justice are not enemies. But speaking about justice does not give us the authority to decide that another person has no possibility left. God alone knows the whole of a person’s story.

Gollum is undeniably dark and dangerous, but at this point Frodo has no idea what the mercy Bilbo once showed him may eventually mean. The same can be true in our own lives. We may not immediately see what a small act of mercy or forgiveness toward another person may one day produce. Perhaps faith also means refusing to write the final chapter of someone else’s life for them and leaving final judgment in the hands of God.

7. The Hard Road Is Not Always the Wrong Road

When we talk about God, I think we need to be careful with the idea that “if we believe in God, He will always lead us down pleasant and comfortable roads.” God is certainly good. But His goodness does not mean that He only gives us the kind of comfort we want.

Frodo and the Fellowship’s journey does not become easier simply because they accept their mission. If anything, the danger and loss increase as they continue. I think that matters. We cannot automatically conclude that we are on the wrong path simply because life has become difficult. Sometimes our own bad decisions do create hardship, but at other times the right road itself may be difficult.

Just as our bodies sometimes need bitter medicine in order to heal, I believe our faith can also be strengthened through difficulties we never would have chosen for ourselves. This does not mean God tempts us to sin. Scripture is clear that He does not tempt people with evil. But God can still use the trials we experience to teach endurance, expose what is inside us, and shape us into more mature people.

Sometimes we ask, “If God is with me, why is this still so hard?” But difficulty and God’s presence are not necessarily contradictions. Faith may not always be the power that removes every hardship. Sometimes it is the strength that allows us to keep walking while the hardship remains.

The fact that the road is difficult does not automatically mean that the road is wrong.

8. The Burden Is Yours, but You Were Never Meant to Walk Alone

The Fellowship of the Ring tells a story about a great war and the fate of the world, but at the center of that story is not a mighty warrior. It is a small hobbit. And even that hobbit cannot solve everything alone. Frodo is wounded by a Morgul blade and comes close to death. With Arwen’s help, he reaches Rivendell, where he receives the healing he needs. To me, this is another important reason not to reduce Frodo to a simple “Jesus symbol.” Frodo may participate in saving others, but he is also someone who desperately needs help himself.

In fact, every member of the Fellowship reveals something similar. Sam is faithful, but he is also afraid. Aragorn is strong, but he struggles with the weight of his bloodline and the failures of the past. Boromir begins with good intentions but falls under temptation. Gollum is almost completely consumed by desire, yet even he becomes the object of mercy. These characters are not perfect theological symbols. They reveal different parts of what it means to be human.

That is why, when I watch The Fellowship of the Ring, I would rather ask, “Who am I like right now?” than, “Who does Frodo symbolize?” Am I Frodo, carrying a responsibility that frightens me? Am I Sam, called not to take someone else’s burden away but to remain faithfully beside them? Am I Boromir, justifying a dangerous method because I believe my goal is good? Am I Aragorn, unable to move forward because of the shadow of the past? Or have I held onto a desire for so long that, like Gollum, it has begun to hold onto me?

That also leaves me with another difficult question: am I trying to hand off the burden God has entrusted to me, or, out of love, am I trying to carry someone else’s calling for them? And in a time and circumstance I did not choose, what am I doing with the time I have been given?

We did not choose the age into which we were born. We cannot avoid every hardship, and we cannot overcome every temptation through our own strength. But we can receive the people who walk beside us. We can refuse the wrong kind of power, turn back when we fall, choose mercy rather than rushing to judge the end of another person’s story, and continue taking the next faithful step within the time we have been given. These Lord of the Rings biblical themes are part of what makes The Fellowship of the Ring so meaningful to me: the story is not only about defeating evil, but about how ordinary people respond to calling, temptation, suffering, mercy, and one another.

Perhaps that is one reason the story of such a small hobbit still feels so enormous to us.

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Explore More Screen Devotions:

• 🎨 Animation: Spiritual Insights in Animated Films
• 🌍 Documentaries: Biblical Perspectives on Real-World Issues

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Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.