Trust in a Dishonest World

My Road Goes Ever On

Trust in a Dishonest World reveals the best and worst in the human experience. Artists consider all of life’s messiness with a will to understand and find hope.

It’s a beautiful June morning; the birds are singing, the cats lazing, the dogs resting from night patrol as the coyotes have been out in force, visions of chicken dinners dancing in their heads, no doubt. My chickens are safe for another day, thanks to doggy faithfulness. Which is rather astonishing, really, when I think of it. Clearly my collie and husky are going against DNA ancestry by protecting birds they wouldn’t mind chowing down in the least. As I face a world full of contradictions, abundant dishonesty, and human frailty, I squint ahead, trying to discern what I focus on, decide what am I actually seeing, and what will I choose to believe—even against all odds.

Being a writer in today’s world is much the same as being an artist in any era. I can think of no more vulnerable way to expose the human experience than through writing and poetry. Sheesh, who needs nude beaches when we have humanity’s soul laid bare in the works of Longfellow and his artistic kin? Writing punches through our natural protective shields and tells a truth as we have experienced it. Not to say that the splintered fragment a writer, painter, or sculptor exposes is the whole truth, the final truth, or the absolute truth. We’d hardly need more than one artist in the world if that were the case.

I woke up with the image of Christ’s tomb in my mind this morning. Why? I have no idea. But I allowed myself the time to ponder where the image took me and why I needed it now at this moment in my life.

I’ve been writing for a lot of years and not making a huge amount of headway in terms of sales. I have signed on with lots of different promotional outfits, some of which were outright scams, some did their best—which didn’t amount to a hill of beans—others came through in very specific areas, but none worked magic. Huge surprise.

“Magical” thinking is so inherent in our society that we often buy things based on a promise that can’t possibly be fulfilled. The other day I received a call from a gal who insisted that she was representing a big-time movie producer, Del Toro, who was interested in my book The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings. Laughable? Yes. I knew from the get-go that I should never have answered the phone. It was after dinner on a Saturday evening, and I was tired, but I had just been to Mass and the glow of sacrificial love still burned bright. So, I let her talk and attempt to sell me on the ridiculous notion that “Del Toro,”—or anyone—for that matter, wanted to turn my Christian reflection book into…anything. As I listened and asked a couple of sensible questions, which she neatly deflected by talking faster, I sensed the urgency in her voice, and I wondered why she was doing this. Why was she scamming people? Perhaps it does make good money, and she can sleep at night on a soft bed. Maybe she is being trafficked and forced into the position against her will. I had no idea, but I thanked her for her call and told her that I wasn’t interested. No insults for wasting my time and trying my weary patience. No point. I had no idea if she was the predator or just another victim herself.

In contrast, this morning, I thought about St. Joseph of Arimathea, the guy who gave his tomb so that Christ would have a decent burial place. A rich and powerful guy, a leader in the very organization that had just tortured and murdered Christ—the God-man who loved humanity all the way to the Great Divide. Historically the event happened whether one believes in the divinity of Christ or not. Joseph, who must have been awfully disillusioned at that point, gave up his own burial spot, which undoubtedly cost serious money, to a dead man who had apparently failed big time.

So, what do my collie, Longfellow, a scammer, and a saint have in common? Willfullness. Not because my collies’ doggy heart is blessed by free will does she do something helpful, forgoing the short-term profit of a tasty meal. But because somehow, however unexpectedly, a dog can act like a true friend. Longfellow and his artistic mates cast off protective armor and bare their suffering, endurance, hope, and despair for all to see—in a cosmic sharing of the human burden. The scammers of our modern world remind us all that decency and truthfulness are not guaranteed and self-delusion is far too easy to sleep with. Finally, the vision of the empty tomb brings hope to my heart. Joseph gave away his last best good, a place to bury his body. When all was said and done, it was still there waiting for him, with the proof that what he freely gave was returned in full—with a hope filled promise.

It takes a dishonest world to discover what trust really looks like.

A. K. Frailey is the author of 17 books, a teacher for 35 years, and a homeschooling mother of eight.

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Trust in a Dishonest World

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“I had to read the stories time and time again, but I never grew tired. On the contrary, I got more and more involved with the feelings and thoughts. Thank you so much.” ~Edith N. Mendel Fréccia

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“This is a great book for the fans of A.K. Frailey” ~Eileen Quinn Knight, Ph.D.

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“…takes passages from the Rings trilogy and weaves an almost ethereal beauty into our lives as Christians by comparing the journey of the Fellowship and their struggles to challenge us in our daily walk.” ~Amazon Reader

Trust in a Dishonest World