The fortitude of light

Fortitude is the topic of our exploration for Cultivating Autumn 2024, Edition 32. It is a rich field to explore in all times, but in these times it is especially needed. We need every reminder of what fortitude is, how to live with it in our own stories, and how to bear witness to it. Naming and understanding fortitude as a virtue is one of the first acts of reclaiming its goodness in our living. It is our great privilege as Christians and Cultivators to reclaim the word fortitude for this generation and to pray for its flourishing. 

“It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you… that meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. They kept going because they were holding on to something.”

Samwise Gamgee

I was 18 years old when I first read The Lord of the Rings, devouring the whole unabridged set in five days. I knew I did not understand most of what I read then but I was starving for the story it told. Starving for a truth bigger than the world I was coming from and living in. Starving for a world of goodness, truth, beauty, valour, and hope. Starving for love that did not leave, and stars that glittered in dark skies untouched by shadows or evil. Starving for men who were brave and trustworthy. Starving for women who were not corrupted. Starving for language unashamed of its beauty and power.

The story that unfolded there was not in a hurry for me to understand the details of it. It gave me safe passage at the pace I could travel. To those same patient, enduring pages I have returned now more times than I can recall, wandering back to them when I have felt most lost and most alone, most desperate and weary, most deeply in need of shelter and rest. The air of Middle Earth is ever home and Rivendell for me.

Of Light and High Beauty

Three characters in Middle Earth dwell as regular inhabitants of my thinking even when I am not reading in those good lands. Aragorn ever owns my heart as Christ-figure and returning king incognito. Beautiful, wild, gracious, and kind, untouched by care or Time, Goldberry, Tom Bombadil’s Lady, the “river-woman’s daughter,” is the character in all literature I simply most long to be. And it is the hobbit, Samwise Gamgee, who I most want to emulate in the story lived out of my own life. Faithful no matter the cost or the conditions he faced, in the tales of Middle-Earth with all its heroes, Sam is the chief of heroes for me. He models what we are meant to be. True.

In an hour of great darkness, an hour that feels hopeless, Sam’s hope is rekindled not by brave words being spoken or shields and spears being rattled, but by a single white star twinkling in the dark expanse of the heavens above him.

“There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.”  J. R. R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

Here in my own lands, I have also been met by stars twinkling in very dark hours when hope has felt so lost and the threat of ruin overwhelming. In their vast long distance travel, the stars remind me that something high dwells faithfully beyond the reach of trouble, fear, and grief. Though soundless to my mortal ears, my heart can hear their singing, almost as hearing elven song, clear and bright. They sing to me and their song reminds me every night of what I am in danger of forgetting nearly every day. The shadows and burdens of my earthly troubles are fleeting. The Light is not. The Light not only endures, it prevails. It shimmers as the visible expression of courageous endurance. Fortitude itself at its most exquisite.

“The heavens are telling of the glory of God;
And the expanse [of heaven] is declaring the work of His hands.
Day after day pours forth speech,
And night after night reveals knowledge.
There is no speech, nor are there [spoken] words [from the stars];
Their voice is not heard.
Yet their voice [in quiet evidence] has gone out through all the earth,
Their words to the end of the world.”  Psalm 19.1-4 (AMP)

It cannot be surprising that one of God’s most defining attributes is fortitude. Well-spring of all true courage and faithfulness, He Himself is our Champion and stronghold, holding and keeping the worlds steady in His hands. His name is our hiding place and fortress. He is Justice, Righteousness, Love, Wisdom, Goodness, Truth, and Beauty. He is Maker and Almighty. He is Sovereign and Holy.

He is also Light.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being. In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men. And the Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it.”  John 1.1-5 (LSB)

That courageous endurance is made visible in the twinkling of stars that go on shining through the darkness every night. The stars themselves are evidence of the fortitude of light. But the Light also shines in a thousand different ways and the darkness does not overcome it. It shines in a particular way in the good deeds of ordinary human beings and marks us as lights in a darkening world. We are made to be lights, lamps for a holy and good God to shine through like stars, and beacons set on high hills, and lights along paths where the gloaming is gathering. We are made to reflect the beauty and valour of fortitude even as our God does.

“Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.”  Matthew 5.16 (NKJV)

Of origins and meaning

The origin of our English word courage stems from the French word for heart – corage. The best expressions of courage come from a full and whole heart. Fortitude is what keeps us enduring faithfully, even when our heart is broken. Every soul matured in Christ bears this. It is a costly, costly acquisition. By its very nature, fortitude is bound to suffering and time. If there is no suffering or trouble at hand there is no need for fortitude. It is developed in the human soul through facing difficulty and testing over time. There is no other way to acquire it and, on earth, no reason to. It is foundational to fully formed character and spiritual maturity.

The English use of the word fortitude has sunk to the near-lowest point in over 200 years. Most modern translations of Scripture, in fact, don’t show it as a primary word. (Try doing a word search for it.) Apparently translators now think that contemporary readers won’t recognise the word or perhaps identify with it. Other words are used for it. Patience. Steadfastness. Perseverance. Endurance. Good words all. Strong, true, important. But not it. Not fortitude.

As a people, we have nearly forgotten what it means. Take away a word from communal use and you render a people powerless to welcome even the notion itself. Take away the idea or recognition of something and what is left? Nothing. A vacuum waiting to be filled by other things or left as an unidentified hole to pass by. When we lose the word fortitude we lose not only what it means but how fortitude itself works to inspire, shape, and guide us as individuals, as a generation, and as a society. Made in the image of God to reflect His attributes including fortitude, without the word in our common language we long for something we cannot name. We long for faithfulness and valour but no longer know how to frame them with each other. This t is language we must reclaim.

Of knowing and practice

Now, while it’s good to know about the origins of a word and its meaning, and good to know where we see it in context of faith and Scripture,  it is something else to know how to put it to practice. How to embody it. The virtue of a servant and guardian, there is little glamour to be found in fortitude and, in truth, little brute strength. Bravery, as we know it, is often something seen in a moment. Fortitude is bravery in slow motion. I often look at the words from Samwise Gamgee, and think of the profound measure of poetic understanding that he reflects in such honest, common language. The last two lines speak such simple truth, but they shine like light itself into the darkness.

“Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. They kept going because they were holding on to something.”

Fortitude in practice is as simple and hard as not turning back when we are given the chance. It is getting up again each time we fall or are knocked down. It is going on when it is easier to give up. We do this again and again, though often unseen and unheralded, not perfectly but as best we can by God’s grace, because we are holding onto something worth fighting for. There is some good in this world still that needs defending and we are called to do it in the time we are given.

The featured header image is courtesy of  Sam Goodgame on Unsplash. We are grateful for his generosity!

Late Autumn Moon and Starlight image with quote by Tolkien is courtesy of Lancia E. Smith and used with her glad permission for Cultivating.

Follow here for related reading ~ https://cultivatingoakspress.com/lighting-candles-by-starlight-receiving-life/

Follow here for a talk that connects to this exploration – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uW6HDtm5Tts&t=5s 

Lancia E. Smith

Lancia E. Smith is an author, photographer, business owner, and publisher. She is the founder and publisher of Cultivating Oaks Press, LLC, and the Executive Director of The Cultivating Project, the fellowship who create content for Cultivating Magazine. She has been honoured to serve in executive management, church leadership, school boards, and Art & Faith organizations over 35 years.

Now empty nesters, Lancia & her husband Peter make their home in the Black Forest of Colorado, keeping company with 200 Ponderosa Pine trees,  a herd of mule deer, an ever expanding library, and two beautiful black cats. Lancia loves land reclamation, website and print design, beautiful typography, road trips, being read aloud to by Peter, and cherishes the works of C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and George MacDonald. She lives with daily wonder of the mercies of the Triune God and constant gratitude for the beloved company of Cultivators.

thecultivatingproject.com/