I love J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. From the first time I picked up the well-worn paperback volumes of Tolkien’s works from the shelves of our family’s library, I have felt a strange kinship with the places and characters of Middle-earth. Undoubtedly, I am drawn to this world and story because it is, as Tolkien himself admitted, “a fundamentally religious . . . work” that reflects the True Story of our own earth (The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, 172). Rather than serving as a momentary, illusory escape, it illuminates from real life, reminding me of what is true and urging me to fight for all that is good and noble and right.

Just as powerful (and in some ways even more so) is that in the pages of this epic adventure, I also see my own story. As a younger reader I was, like most preteen boys, drawn first to those characters who exhibited the greatest feats: Aragorn, in particular, was a favorite, along with the wizard Gandalf. As the years have passed and I have returned again and again to this story, however, I have been drawn ever closer to the Hobbits.

I am not drawn to the Hobbits because I have faced dragons, scaled the heights of Mount Doom, or borne the fate of the earth on my shoulders. Those tasks have already been accomplished by Another who long ago bore a great weight up a hill to defeat a dragon. The particular affinity I have felt with the Bagginses comes from their peculiarity — a peculiarity I share as someone who has been “there and back again,” or what some have called a “Third-Culture Kid.”

Strange Hobbits

Both Bilbo and Frodo, during their adventures with the big folk of the world, undergo a change that sets them apart from the other Hobbits of the Shire. For Bilbo, the change brought no burden. Though he was “held by all the hobbits of the neighbourhood to be ‘queer,’” he was “quite content.” He may no longer have fit the expectations of a respectable hobbit, but he was at peace in his own home and “remained very happy to the end of his days” (The Hobbit, 275).

Frodo’s own experience bears some resemblance to Bilbo’s, though without the same measure of peace. After he and his companions save the Shire from Saruman, Frodo departs for the Gray Havens. A deeply saddened Sam exclaims, “I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years, after all you have done.” Frodo responds, “So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam” (Lord of the Rings, 1029). Bearing the mark of his wound at Weathertop and the effects of the One Ring, Frodo is no longer at home in the Shire. Though no one can easily see it, the indelible marks of his adventure have made him an alien among his own people.

Children who grow up away from their home culture bear a similar resemblance to the Bagginses. By all appearances, they seem to fit in with the good folk of their “Shire.” Yet prolonged adventures in distant lands have produced changes in them that do not disappear upon their return. Because they have spent time in the worlds of men, dwarves, and elves, the Shire becomes for them a different place. A certain sense prevails that they do not quite fit in with the other Hobbits.

Third-Culture Kids

The technical term for this group of people is Third-Culture Kids (TCKs). A TCK (also referred to as a “Global Nomad”) is defined as

a person who has spent a significant part of his or her developmental years outside the parents’ culture. The TCK builds relationships to all of the cultures, while not having full ownership of any. Although elements from each culture are assimilated into the TCK’s life experience, the sense of belonging is in relationship to others of similar background. (Third Culture Kids, 19)

In other words, they have absorbed and assimilated to aspects of multiple cultures such that they belong partially to all of them without fully belonging to any, a “confusion of cultures,” as one TCK put it (37). They sustain a wound that will “never really heal” (Lord of the Rings, 1025). Everywhere they go (except when together), they are prone to experience a sense of alienation. They recognize that they don’t really belong, at least not as others do. At home everywhere, they are home nowhere. In their countries of origin, they are often difficult to recognize. TCKs are hidden immigrants who bear all the marks of citizenship yet often feel distinctly out of place. They are Hobbits without a home.

TCKs respond to their out-of-placeness in different ways. For some it proves a more challenging identity than for others. Upon return to a “home” culture, some just want to fit in and leave behind all the strangeness their upbringing carries with it. Having learned to adapt to new settings, they blend like chameleons into their surroundings, often escaping all but the most practiced eye. Others revel in their cultural nonconformity, eager to invite others to share in their unique upbringing, taking every opportunity to recount the joys (and perhaps hardships) of their adventures.

“TCKs are hidden immigrants who bear all the marks of citizenship yet often feel distinctly out of place.”

Regardless of how TCKs feel, the experience of being a global nomad means that, for this group, the biblical description of saints as “sojourners and exiles” is palpable (1 Peter 2:11). They experience the reality of being an alien everywhere they go. This terrain can be difficult to navigate, of course, but few TCKs would trade their nomadic past. Time spent as aliens abroad has given them a deep appreciation for others. They’ve learned to see the world through multiple lenses. Many gain insight and wisdom beyond their years.

One TCK puts it this way:

Besides the drawbacks of family separation and the very real adjustment on the permanent return to the [home country], a child growing up abroad has great advantages. He [or she] learns, through no conscious act of learning, that thoughts can be transmitted in many languages, that skin color is unimportant . . . that certain things are sacred or taboo to some people while to others they’re meaningless, that the ordinary word of one area is a swearword in another. (Third Culture Kids, 77)

In other words, the “wound” may be permanent, but — as I and many other TCKs have discovered — it unlocks passages to whole new worlds.

Rich Tapestry

We might be surprised by how many people today fit the description of a TCK. In an increasingly globalized world, many families spend significant time overseas. Business developments or a military reassignment might require an international move. A church might send a family to the mission field. Local circumstances might cause a family to relocate to a new country. There are more TCKs among us than we realize.

These global nomads bring with them a unique opportunity — quite simply, the opportunity to discover. Understanding what it means for TCKs to have spent significant time overseas requires knowing more than where they lived and what strange foods they ate. The complex of interweaving histories, cultures, experiences, and questions requires time to unravel and draw out. To those who don’t share similar experiences, the intricate web can appear too daunting to even attempt navigating.

Many TCKs discover that few have the patience or desire to get to know their past lives beyond the bounds of the Shire. Content simply to know the strange Hobbit grew up overseas, they move on with life as normal and expect the TCK to fit right in. Too often, TCKs receive the unspoken and unintended message that their background, while interesting, doesn’t really matter. Leaning in to their past and drawing out their experiences will reveal that what first appears as an incomprehensible tangle turns out to be a rich tapestry of intermingled hues.

Seek Out the Stranger

In my experience, it will take work to discover that beauty. Most TCKs do not go about spilling the myriad details of their past. They’ve learned that the lack of shared background creates an unconscious impasse that few seek to traverse. The few who do often find that they’ve entered worlds unknown, filled with dichotomies of the strange and familiar, the shocking and beautiful, the sorrowful and joyful.

Don’t neglect seeking out opportunities to get to know the TCKs in your midst. Identify who they are in your church (whether among adults or youth). Invite them over for dinner or take them out to a global restaurant of their choice. Ask them to show you their mementos. Participate in their traditions. Listen to their stories. If you’re a pastor or ministry leader, consider reading about TCK experiences so you can better minister to their unique needs. Learn to see the strange Hobbits in your midst, embrace them as fellow pilgrims, and lean in to the beauty you are bound to discover.