Why is Tolkien the Only Wizard allowed in youth group?

I’ve been thinking. (I can hear your eyes rolling, you know.) But here’s the question that popped into my head at youth group while watching a group of the middle schoolers sword-fight with pool noodles: Why is Tolkien the only fantasy author legally allowed in church?

I mean, you can’t even mention Harry Potter without someone clutching their pearls and staging an impromptu deliverance session in the multipurpose room. Dungeons & Dragons? Don’t even think about it. You might as well show up with a Ouija board and a bag of healing crystals. But Tolkien? Oh, he gets a forever hall pass and a life-size cardboard cutout of Gandalf standing in the lobby holding a revolutionary war musket.

It’s not that I don’t love Tolkien—I do (well not really, but I'm still trying to fit in to church culture). He was obviously a genius. But it’s like he’s the only one the church has ever agreed is safe enough for Christian consumption. Why? Because he went to church? Because he was friends with C.S. Lewis? Because his wizards don’t use wands?

Let’s be honest. Gandalf literally comes back from the dead, glows in the dark, and talks to giant eagles. But somehow, he’s “allegory” and “deeply biblical,” while every other wizard is just an open door to witchcraft and teenage rebellion. Are we reading the same books?

Maybe it's nostalgia. Maybe Tolkien just hit the sweet spot of being old, British, and dead—three things that always play well among the Reformed and the wannabe Reformed. Or maybe we like him because his fantasy comes with a pipe, a beard, and a strong theological backbone. (Which is also how we like our expositors, coincidentally.)

But here's what bugs me: When we draw this arbitrary line between “holy fantasy” and “satanic fantasy,” we’re not teaching kids to think deeply—we’re just teaching them to parrot our preferences. We’re not equipping them to navigate culture with discernment—we’re just handing them a list of safe authors and hoping they don’t ask questions.

I’m not saying we hand out spellbooks and invite Sauron to camp. But could we maybe admit that God can work through stories that weren’t written by pipe-smoking Anglo-Catholics in tweed jackets?

Because if Tolkien taught us anything, it’s that light can shine in dark places—and that even the most unlikely heroes can carry the light.

Even if they read Harry Potter.