A few weeks ago, I was reflecting on the ending of The Lord of the Rings—not the movie ending, but the original ending of the book, in which Frodo returns home to the Shire only to find that it’s been destroyed by Saruman despite all his efforts to protect it.

As a writer, I’ve always wondered why Tolkien structured The Lord of the Rings in that way, instead of ending the conflict with the destruction of the Ring and allowing the hobbits to return home to the peaceful, untouched Shire (as the movie ends). This month, I’ve finally come to understand why.

Frodo is often considered the hero of The Lord of the Rings—the only person brave enough to take the Ring to Mount Doom, to undergo the physical and mental torment necessary to save the world. Christlike, he takes on the burden of the Ring to spare others from suffering.

And yet, in the end, Frodo fails. When it comes down to it, he’s unable to throw the Ring into Mount Doom. His sinful nature gets the better of him, and he claims the Ring for his own. In a twist of irony, it’s Gollum—through an act of selfishness—who destroys the Ring, and with it, himself.

This ending is no accident. As a devout Christian, Tolkien understood his own fallibility. Frodo gave everything he had to destroy the Ring—and it wasn’t even enough to protect his beloved Shire.

To the non-Christian, that’s a very depressing ending—and I’m guessing that’s why the movie ends differently. But to us Christians, realizing our own fallibility can be very comforting.

I just finished my first year of full-time work, including teaching two classes at my parish school. At times, being a teacher felt completely overwhelming. I was blessed with parents who gave me an incredible education during my years of homeschool, and I have nowhere near the level of expertise that they brought to my education.

And that’s okay.

I am never going to be the perfect teacher or the perfect writer or the perfect anything. But that doesn’t mean God can’t work through me to bless the people around me, just as he worked through Rahab and David and Peter and countless other Biblical heroes. And as a Christian, that’s deeply comforting.

That honesty about human limitations is part of why I’ve always loved The Lord of the Rings, even if it took me years to realize it. Fiction today is increasingly humanist, especially fantasy. We ordinary human beings can never measure up to the gifted heroes of typical fantasy books—but like Frodo, we submit to God’s will in our lives and trust that God will work through even our imperfections.