King Théoden had been enchanted—enchanted by a spell woven slowly and meticulously by one who appeared to be a friend. And slowly, oh so slowly, his perception of reality was skewed—until he no longer could discern evil from good and friend from foe.
Poor King Théoden sat in his hall—ineffectual, self consumed, uncaring for his realm that was being ravaged and destroyed by his dangerous foe—as those who loved him best wept for his blindness, wept for his lack of discernment, wept for the fading kingdom of Rohan.
Oh, how had this come to be? When had the imperceptible hand of darkness first crept into a heart once faithful? And what will become of them now—without a leader, without hope? They struggled on the best they knew how. They struggled in the darkness and awaited their doom—
But, doom was not their fate—not yet. Help unforeseen and unsought for arrived. It arrived cloaked in a guise of testing and pain and sorrow. It arrived when doom seemed sure, as it often does—casting off evil, remaking, restoring.
We often get bogged down and distracted by all the events of this physical dimension we inhabit. And, we forget that the struggle is not here. There are greater forces in the world than what the mere hands of man can manipulate. There are powers we fight by prayer alone.
For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.
Stay sharp. Hold strong. Stay true.