Opening my eyes, I inhale deeply as I pull the pile of blankets closer to my skin, encompassing me in a cocoon of warmth, safety, and love. Since school’s started, my mornings have consisted of jumping awake at the sound of my alarm, stumbling towards my desk in order to silence the melody, and glancing at my bedraggled curls and shadowed eyes as my mind instantly begins pondering all of the things I’m dreading in the hours ahead, whether it’s a quiz I’m unprepared for, a controversial debate topic that’s sure to spark wildfires of hatred, or a conversation with someone that quickens the pace of my still sleepy heart. Yet this morning’s different. This morning, my mind is wholly present; my body is soaking in the relief of resting without wondering how much longer I’ve got to be still. This morning, and for the first time in a long time, my soul is at peace. And I can’t help but wonder why I don’t give my body the breaks she needs more often, because I feel a thousand times better when I do and am able to enjoy life to it’s fullest as opposed to just passing by half-heartedly as if I’m under some sort of spell, as if I’m living in a daydream, as if I’m Sleeping Beauty.
Aurora’s always been my favorite Disney heroine, from the time I was little. Her kindness, loyalty to the women in her life, and thoughtfulness caused her to be the center of my universe as a eight-year-old girl who loved nothing more than pink dresses, glittering tiaras, and singing in the woods behind her home. However, this past week my literature classmates and I were each assigned a partner to view classical works through a specific lens, and one group received the gender lens and utilized my childhood idol as an example. As they showcased the misogyny embedded into Disney’s “Sleeping Beauty” – a woman relying on a man to save her, a male kissing her without her consent, and her only dialogue with other women in the entire movie consisting of her desire to marry him – I couldn’t help but wonder how it had unknowingly impacted me. I couldn’t help but wonder how I could possibly remember the sweet moments of my innocence fondly and hold tight to the feminist values I proudly own today. And I couldn’t help but wonder if Briar Rose wasn’t the only one living in an eternal slumber.
Oftentimes, Christians are the most guilty of living in a state of immobility. Many times, we’ll say a quick prayer for the homeless woman we’ll see on the street but avoid eye contact when she begs for money. We’ll like an article on social media from our favorite pastor, but we’ll keep scrolling and refuse to let the message penetrate into that deep place in our souls. We’ll say we want to help the members of our community, but when they actually come to us with their wounds, tears streaming down their face, pleading for mercy, we’ll quote a Bible verse that has become a cliche of Christianity. Since when should the Bible ever be used to spare us from the pain of doing the work God called us to do? Since when is prayer our way to escape the brutal journey of walking with someone during their darkest hour? And since when do we turn a blind eye to the grief of this world and turn our back on those who need love the most? Is that who Jesus is? Is that who you want to be?
“Was not our ancestor Abraham considered righteous for what he did when he offered his son Issac on the altar? You see that his faith and his actions were working together, and his faith was made complete by what he did. And the scripture was fulfilled that says, ‘Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness,’ and he was called God’s friend. You see that a person is justified by what they do and not by faith alone. In the same way, was not even Rahab the prostitute considered righteous for what she did when she gave lodging to the spies and sent them off in a different direction? As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without deeds is dead.”
~ James 2:21-26
Abraham started out as an idol worshipper; Rahab was a member of the world’s oldest profession. Neither were exactly in good social standings, making the most out of their lives, or even somewhat positively influencing their neighborhoods. However, something rather magical happened to both of them, something that could come straight out of a fairytale and be an instant bestseller – they found love. Or more accurately, love found them and awakened their spirits. They noticed the breathtaking colors of the sunrise each morning, they walked to the river with a pep in their step, they took notice of where they were and where they wanted to go. Yahweh had blessed us all with the gift of free will, and it is our responsibility to make the most of our one shot on Earth, to count for something, to have made a difference. This world can bring everyone of us to our knees, and that’s expected; our society can crush the life out of us simply due to the bitterness, resentment, and pettiness of humans. Yet it’s our choice whenever we lay down and wait for the storm to pass (in truth, only for another one to blow in and take its place) or rise up from the curse of this world and live for the Eternal King that never sleeps, that never loses interest in us, that never will let us fall. That doesn’t mean we won’t get hurt; that doesn’t mean we won’t have to fight extra hard some days to live in the moment and face our dragons; it just means that we have the perfect Knight who catches us every time and whispers in our ear, “Keep going, you’re almost there. We’ll finish this the way we started it – together.”
So, back to Sleeping Beauty: in my attempts to “disown” the sexism installed in my favorite princess, I stopped wearing pink. I swore to never let a drop of makeup touch my face. And I swore to never sing aloud for fearing of being perceived as being “weak” or “girly.” Four years later, I shake my head at the memories, realizing that I cared so much about what other people thought of me that I inadvertently let them decide how I was going to live my life. I wanted people to think I was tough, so I rejected the feminine sides of myself and embraced the traditional masculine traits – cold, hard, and with ice in her veins. The problem with that is that that wasn’t and isn’t me. I’m not calloused, I’m sensitive; gracious, not bitter; cautious, not reckless. Yet where society gets it wrong is that one can have the classic qualities of both men and women, which makes them an incredibly balanced, well-rounded, and relatable human being that contributes to their community. My tribe has been immeasurably blessed by the compassionate, intuitive, and socially-aware men who have taught me how to respect myself and shown me my worth, just as the strong, bold, and assertive women have done who have illustrated to me how to stand up for myself and others and encouraged me to speak my mind without fear. Therefore, I’ll proudly rock that bright berry lipstick while cheering for my favorite football team; I’ll be on my feet during a hockey fight in four-inch heels and magnolia perfume. And I won’t wait for someone to come along and sweep me off of my feet, because my Prince has already come. Life starts today, and I don’t wanna miss one moment of this happily ever after.
Last Love 