by Teri Ong
Everyone likes a Cinderella story. The down-trodden peasant girl is lifted to love and good fortune, and all are happy ever after. The story of Esther in the Bible follows this pattern, with enough real-life bumps and wrinkles in the middle of the story to keep us on the edges of our seats.
Even guys like it when the small market sports team somehow pulls off unexpected wins and becomes the nation’s “sweetheart” team. Sports writers call those “Cinderella” stories too.
But there is a flip side to Cinderella, which, considering the number of similarly themes books and films, must also resonate with a certain segment of the population. For example, in The Prisoner of Zenda, a commoner who is a dead ringer for the king falls in love with the crown princess. She, likewise, falls in love with him. When the commoner proposes marriage in the end, she decides that her true happiness lies in the path of honor. She was raised to marry the king, and marry the king she must. In The Student Prince, the crown prince falls in love with a commoner, but their eyes, blinded by romance, are soon opened again to their rightful lot in life. Once again, duty wins out over romantic passion and sentimental love. Some would say the ending is sad, but it is not; it is proper, and satisfying because it is proper.
There is one sense in which the Christian life is like a Cinderella story. In our sinful condition, we are all Cinderellas; in rags and tatters, with no human prospects, taken advantage of by the step-family known as the world. Then the Prince of Peace comes to us, condescends to our lowly estate, and lifts us up in a royal betrothal. Someday, we will be married in the palace and all the universe will be happy ever after.
However, there is another sense in which we must also live out the flip side. When we are born again, we become royalty by adoption. Then our lives are preparation for a wedding of royals. We are taught and trained and groomed in the path of duty that befits our station.
There will be many commoners who come into our lives that will try to steal our affections from our Betrothed. We may even be tempted to turn from the path of duty and honor and give a romantic glance at another. That is what happened in Camelot. Instead of giving her heart to King Arthur, Guinevere gives her heart to Lancelot, which sets the three formerly loyal friends at odds with each other and ultimately brings down an entire kingdom.
The Camelot story is instructive. The tragic figures are not Guinevere and Lancelot, who can never live out their passion; the tragic figure is King Arthur, who is betrayed by the two people in the world who should have loved him best. When Guinevere and Lancelot turned to each other, they made themselves enemies of the king. Their romance soon proved unfulfilling, and the pain of ruined lives and relationships overshadowed the fleeting joy of their passion.
Christians are royalty in God’s eyes. We are destined for marriage to the Crown Prince of the universe. Is it any wonder that we are warned that if we make ourselves friends of the world, we will become enemies of God?
In the story of Abraham and Hagar, we see royalty forsaking the path of duty because the way of the world seems more appealing. Their story has not ended to this very day; the unhappiness caused by Abraham’s unfaithfulness to God has lingered for almost 4000 years. On the other hand, Moses chose fulfillment in the path of duty. He turned his back on the lure of the world, and as a result, enjoyed the most intimate relationship with God any human has ever enjoyed this side of heaven. God spoke to him face to face.
George MacDonald, in his final great metaphorical fantasy Lilith, described the struggle of Mr. Vane (representing every person) as he was seduced by the vampiress Lilith (symbolic of our selfish flesh). MacDonald describes the conflict common to us all. Vane is attracted to her beauty, but he suspects that she is evil.
“What you have made me is yours!” she cried. “I will repay you as never yet did woman! My power, my beauty, my love are your own: take them!”
She dropt kneeling before me, laid her arms across my knees, and looked up in my face… I felt that, if I did less than loathe her, I should love her. Not to dally with usurping emotions, I turned my eyes aside.
She started to her feet. I sat motionless, looking down.
“To me she may be true!” said my vanity. For a moment I was tempted to love a lie. (Lilith, p. 131)
Whatever beauties and attractions draw our attention and emotions away from our Betrothed, whether they be of the world, the selfish flesh, or the devil himself, are but an empty lie that can only end in sadness and destruction. The path of unfaithfulness and divided loyalty can never satisfy. After we are born again, the path of duty always lies in the direction of the King. Send the commoner away: learn to love the King!
Reference:
MacDonald, George. Lilith. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Wm. B. Eerdman’s Publishing Company, 1983 ed.
