“Gandalf laughed grimly… ‘There is only one way: to find the Cracks of Doom in the depths of Mordor, and cast the Ring in there, if you really wish to destroy it, to put it beyond the grasp of the Enemy forever.’” Frodo looked at the little gold ring in his trembling hand: a Ring of desire and power and dark history, a Ring Gandalf himself refused to touch, a Ring that must be destroyed. 

‘I wish it had never come to me,’ said Frodo. ‘I wish none of this had happened.’ ‘So do all who live to see such times,’ Gandalf replied, ‘but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.’” 

Class of 2024, it has been a long and winding road, but here we are, standing at the threshold of a new beginning, deciding what to do with the time that is given to us. A world of opportunity awaits. We will graduate college, buy our first homes, and start beautiful families. But it is also a world of hardships. There will be times the Ring seems too heavy, the fires of Mordor too hot for us to go on. It is in these times we must remember to count it all joy. 

But this is no easy task. Perhaps our years of faithfulness and pain will bring us to our knees in the heart of Mount Doom. In that moment, what will we do? Will we grasp for our precious possessions like Gollum? Or will we, like Sam and Frodo, joyfully surrender ourselves? 

When we truly believe every moment of our lives is for Christ, we live differently. We live humbly. On God’s infinite scale, our lives are infinitely small. And yet, at this exact moment, each one of you is sitting here on this stage. And God knows. The slightest breeze rushes through the trees. And God knows. A single hair on your head moves. And God knows. Let us never forget how incredible it is that God knows—how comforting it is that God knows. That is why we can count it all joy.

When we view ourselves from an eternal perspective, we view each moment with purpose. We see clearly the glory of the gospel, the unthinkable love of Christ to the point of death, and compared to that, how could we respond with anything but humility? How could we respond with anything but adoration? We see that we do not live for our own glory, because what good would that do? In fact, we do not live for ourselves at all. We live for Christ. And in that, we find the humility to plunge into a journey across the Shire, through the mines of Moria, and into the ashes of Mordor—a journey full of hardship. We find the boldness to defend our beliefs and proclaim truth—a truth more powerful than any accomplishment, title, or amount of money. So we can witness, knowing that the testing of our faith produces endurance. That is why we can count it all joy. 

As we begin to see God for who He truly is, we see the beauty in our sufferings. Instead of blaming God, we praise Him. Instead of praying in doubt, we pray knowing in full confidence God is with us. Instead of hiding sin in fear, we humbly approach the throne of grace, clothed in the righteousness of Christ. We see that when we fail (and we will fail) there is forgiveness. That is why we can count it all joy.

And we do not let the things of the past, the mistakes, the assumptions, and even the accomplishments determine our futures. Each event, each character in our story, whether negative or positive is, as cliche as it sounds, a part of God’s plan. But we must not be defined by what has already come to pass. We must not cower beneath the weight of human expectation. The testimony we carry reflects the Lord’s goodness and His sovereignty in an utterly broken people. And by God’s grace, even a pair of homely little Hobbits can save Middle Earth. That is why we can count it all joy.

So we look back with gratitude, thanking the families and friends who have encouraged us, pushed us, and made sure we put our caps on right. We thank the teachers, who have loved us through tears and laughter, good days and bad—who have taught us the path to Mordor, though it has many twists and traps, is conquerable, and who now hand us our satchels and walking sticks, and, with a firm pat on the back, send us off to begin our unexpected adventure. And we look forward with hope, knowing “[t]he sufferings of the present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us”—knowing one day, like Frodo, “[our] ship [will go] out into the High Sea and [pass] on into the West, until at last [we smell] a sweet fragrance on the air and [hear] the sound of singing that [comes] over the water. And then…the grey rain-curtain [will turn] all to silver glass and [roll] back, and [we will behold] white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise.” That is why we can count it all joy. 

And so, class of 2024, as we prepare to undertake the dangerous business of going out our doors and stepping onto the road, remember that no matter what path we take, what challenges we face, or what Ring we bear, we can count it all joy for the glory of Christ.

I leave you with this, in the words of Gandalf: “Well here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our fellowship in Middle-earth. Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.”