“It’s bad luck to be you,” so said a video game on the game death of yet another “chosen one.”
You know the type. He is a farm boy and is approached by a princess with a chance to save the day and win gold and the girl. You cannot shoot him, the guards always miss, he wins, because he is “the chosen one.” Luke cannot be killed by Storm Troopers. Frodo is invisible to the orcs.
The video game played with the trope and pointed out that most who think they are the chosen one are not. We are on the farm with delusions of grandeur, often aided by overly indulgent parents and friends. We get a bit going for us and know we are the Chosen One.
We think we are Frodo, as we work to clean up the bar at the Prancing Pony. It’s a good life, we should be happy, but we want so much more than this provincial life. Why do we think there is more than happiness? We long to plus our place in life with power.
If our delusion is too strong, then we end up trying things beyond our capacity. Usually life is kind and does not let us go beyond our virtues, but sometimes the broken world allows us to dream the impossible dream and march into hell, there to stay.
We are victims of our false sense that Me, I, must be the one, the chosen, the I am the most important person in the world and there is nobody like me. God save us.
This advice amounts to a reminder to be humble, but though pious is still quite practical. Avoid the delusion of being the Chosen One and don’t hang out with those who think they are. If the Bible and Plato are to be believed, then the fool says in his heart that he is the Chosen One.
The result is always disaster, a deluge for the deluded.
Plato pictured a whole land of those deluded into thinking they were Chosen Ones. Once the disease of Special Annointing starts, it spreads like oily muck across the land. This land of Chosen Ones naturally thought that everyone else should do as they say:
Now one day this power gathered all of itself together and set out to enslave all the territory inside the strait, including your region and ours, in one fell swoop.
The result of this false pride in the Atlantans was to be swept away by a great green wave and to be buried under the sea. Disaster always happens to the self appointed Chosen Ones, because the mistake of thinking we are more than we are, dreaming impossible dreams, attracts doom through over reach. We are not more than anyone else. There is a Savior, but his name is not our name.
How do we avoid the fate of drowned Atlantis?
If there is wisdom in fairy tales, and there is, then we know there are (at least) three signs you might be the Chosen One or put negatively, signs you are not!
First, the Chosen One never says “Of course,” when he hears the news that he is the Chosen One. Why? Nobody earns the role! One does not work hard to be the seventh son of the seventh son, inherit the ring, or have Potters for parents.
Who would believe that he is special? We are all (in one sense) special as souls created, according to pattern, in the image of God. We are all chosen, but few are the “one” in our age.
Second, the real Chosen One gets a team and sticks by them. He goes with dwarves to Smaug, hangs with Hermione and Ron, or stays with Peter, Lucy, and Susan while in Narnia.
Every fairy tale shows the real chosen one works with a band of brothers and sisters and those friends help.
Finally, the Chosen One fights for something bigger than gold and glory. Gold is useful and glory comes as an add on to the man who does what is right. Fighting for gold and glory? That is a mercenary, not a chosen one.
So what to think?
I am not the Chosen One is likely true, usefully so.
We live as commoners and if called to lead are ready to do so, but hesitantly. Why? Sensible men know that leaders make mistakes, mistakes that count. The leader can, at best, hope to do a bit more good than harm.
Who wants to wear the heavy crown? The wise have to be convinced to lead like George Washington. Even if anointed for a special job, we are not ultimately the Chosen One.
We are may be chosen by God, but there is only one Chosen One. His name is Jesus, born on Christmas, risen from death on Easter, son of man, God’s Son.
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