I Still Believe In Fairy Tales...

C.S. Lewis once wisely wrote, "Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again."

For many, I hope this to be true. As for me, I never grew out of them in the first place, and I hope I never will. I pity the one who has. I pity the one who can no longer find joy in magic carpet rides, daring sword fights, or a “street rat” rising above his low circumstances, slaying the enemy, and sweeping a beautiful, though stubborn, princess off her feet. I would rather spend hours amidst the story of an average sane man fighting against a mad and dangerous world than be trapped inside the mind of the modern mad protagonist, aimlessly fighting to destroy the sane world in which he lives. There may be no magic carpet ride in the real world. There may be no knight in shining armor. There may be no prince who comes to sweep me off my feet. But in reality, I am still part of a grand story. There is still a Savior. There are still dragons to slay. There is still the joy of being loved and loving in return, and the hope that good will in the end prevail over evil.

One of my favorite stories (at least the Disney story, anyways) has always been “Beauty and the Beast.” It is partly, of course, because I relate so much to Belle. A single woman living with her father. Strong and stubborn on the outside, but gentle and yes, even a little insecure on the inside. Her nose always in a book, her heart always in awe. A misfit, a nerd, and slightly awkward, she doesn’t quite fit in with the world around her. But she doesn’t mind. She is content. She knows that it is better for her to be set apart and ready to embark on the adventure of a higher calling than to live like the rest of the world. Her heart soars, but her life remains grounded for a time. She longs to be loved, yet the men she encounters are not the kind she has particularly dreamed of, for they either seek her only to gratify themselves, like Gaston, or overlook her entirely because she is so different. So she resolves to simply go on with her life. She knows it is far better to wait than to settle for he who is nearest, especially if he who is nearest finds her to be of little worth. So she waits, so she remains content, so she dreams of adventure, and when the time is right…she dives in wholeheartedly.

The love story that unfolds is far greater than any other fairy tale in comparison, for it is exactly what we wouldn’t expect. Our hero is no handsome prince, at least not anymore. He is instead ugly, inside and out. Our hearts initially tell us there is nothing to love about this violent and angry beast, yet as the story unfolds we are taught an important lesson…that a thing must first be loved in order for it to become lovable. It is not that he is in and of himself unlovable, it is simply that we did not make the effort to love him in the first place. But Belle does what we often don’t do to the hideous, ugly, and mean in our lives: she loves, and she loves knowing she has little, if anything at all, to gain from it. As far as she knows, she is trapped in a castle with this beast for all eternity. Like many women often do, she could have hardened her heart or perhaps become passive and aloof, yet instead she casts off all worry about her difficult circumstances and instead pursues the good of a creature who seems to have no good in him. She speaks kind words, makes kind gestures, and rather than hiding her own shortcomings, seeks reconciliation when she has offended. Her love awakens his heart, and in knowing this love he begins to change, for his greatest desire is to no longer serve only himself, but to know the bearer of this love more deeply, and to love the giver of it in return. In the end he gives up his very life for her, and all hope seems lost. Her life has been spared, but their relationship is now severed, torn apart by the sting of death. And it is not heroics that save them in the end as one would expect, but rather the vulnerability and humility of their hearts, for it is but a single tear that restores the beast to life, and to life as it was intended to be, no longer marred by an animal body and soul. They become united in love THROUGH love, and that alone is why I will never be too old to love fairy tales.

There is a reason my soul longs for fairy tales. There is a reason I am filled with awe every time I read them, and there is a reason I believe them to be far more grounded in reality than most realize. Many see only a prince rescuing a princess and a happily ever after. They pay little attention to the presence of good and evil, the battle that ensues, and the promise of hard and difficult trials ahead. Some look ahead and conclude that because they have not yet seen a white knight or known a happily ever after, and instead know only the difficulty of trials, there is simply no such thing as a happily ever after. Yet in reality, the white knight and happily ever after have already come, and have yet to come again. For it is not simply a royal wedding that our human hearts desire, but rather to know the unconditional and enduring love that is so beautifully displayed in a fairy tale such as this. The deepest desire of my heart is not to know a prince and live in a castle, nor is it to know a beast and transform him into a prince, but rather to be loved and love in return as deeply as the characters of these stories do. It is the love that speaks to us far beyond the conditions, characters, and fantasy.

No, I will never be too old for fairy tales, because there is no such thing as being too old for fairy tales. If you truly grasp the message of the story, then you will realize that one is never too young nor too old to know and understand the love of God that is so plainly displayed in them. The love of God---This is why I am able to dwell on fairy tales and not end up disappointed at the fact that there is no knight in shining armor professing his love for me at my doorstep. Because it is not he who I ultimately long to be loved by and to know, it is the Most High King…and He already knows, loves, and pursues me…He has already sacrificed Himself for me, and He has done so knowing full well that in this story I call life, I am not the beauty. It is I who am the beast, and it is He who is making me beautiful.