The Problem With Princesses

The man that I’m supposed to marry is marrying someone else… and I’m invited to the wedding.

Well... technically the whole world is invited to the wedding and technically we’ve never met, but I know we’re supposed to be together. 

I think I’ve known it all of my life, but the first time I remember really knowing our destiny was around the time of our 13^th birthdays (we’re exactly one month apart - how precious is that). There he was… on the cover of People magazine… a profile of him doing his half grin… you know that little smile that shows that he’s kind and happy, while, at the same time, maintaining a level of mystery. Just one look at his picture, and I knew - he was my prince. 

Well, technically he’s Britain’s prince and technically I’m Irish, not British, but who needs to get technical.  Love is blind - it knows no bounds… such as ocean, nationality, class, etc.

Which is why, when I was in high school and on a trip to England with my family, I “accidentally” got lost at Eaton. I knew that he would see me wandering the grounds and just know - somewhere deep in his heart - that I was his princess. Then we would hop on a white horse and head to Windsor Castle to have tea with the queen.

But I never met him, and he instead met some hussy named Kate Middleton and after eight years of dating (clearly it was not love at first sight) that woman is getting my fairytale.

Ok - so I’m talking about Prince William and ok -  we were never going to get married, but don’t think that kept me from dreaming and don’t think I’ve given up on the concept of a fairy tale.

Ahhh... fairy tales. Once upon a time… so the story goes… they all lived happily ever after.  Funny isn’t it, how clean those plot lines are? There is the setting of the scene, followed by the conflict, and then, finally, the happy ending. There is the evil queen or witch, the princess or fair maiden,  the hero, the noble friends, the comical sidekicks and, again, the happy ending. 

Let’s be honest -  we love it… we eat it up… we watch it time and time again… and we laugh… we cry and, as much as the logical parts of our brains knows that it isn’t real, I’m willing to bet, that, if we were truly honest, a part of us believes that it is or rather that it should be true. If we haven’t completely hardened our hearts, (and I pray we haven’t) somewhere, in the dead of night, we feel that we have been promised a fairytale and when that “promise” doesn’t come true or when the story of our lives is not cleanly written and tied by chirping blue birds into a pretty pink bow, we feel gypped.

So, I ask… where does this sense of betrayal come from? When did we first believe that it was Aesop who held our fates in his hand and that any story shy of a palace, a prince and a royal wedding was fit for a pauper and not a princess? When did the fairytales of earth first trump the fairytale of eternity? And, if we acknowledge that this has, in fact, occurred… what do we do with our broken hearts?

{Because, let’s all be honest… this world has broken our hearts.}

Don’t get me wrong, I clearly love a good fairytale. I may not be the most girly-girl you’ve ever met… I can’t stand the color pink and bling has never been my thing, but I do love the concept of a crown… I love the bliss of a grand ball… and I pray nightly for a prince (in the figurative, not literal sense of the word…although I wouldn’t argue with God if He made me marry a monarch). However, as I grow not only older, but also, by God’s grace, wiser, I worry about us girls… young and old… I worry that our Disney dreams have been used to define our self-appointed destinies. And I find myself wondering what is at the root of our confusion and when was the first time that we thought that our kingdom was in fact here and not in Heaven.

I grew up in the Church. Before I could speak in complete sentences, I could sing Jesus Loves Me.  I’m not kidding.  I know it’s a weird phenomenon, but I’ve always had a flair for doing things dramatically.  Point being - as far back as I can remember, I knew Jesus loved me. I knew my parents loved me. I knew people loved me. I knew that one day I would live happily ever after. After all, why not? I had no reason to believe the contrary.

  

We are taught that we are daughters of the King, right? The Lord on high -  the maker of Heaven and earth - the righteous King - loves us and claims us as His. Therefore, as daughters of the King, we are royal princesses. {Ahhhh. Deep, peaceful sigh}  I love that.  We all love that.  Who wouldn’t love that?  So we gladly, joyfully, cheerfully, put on the crown and skip and dance and sing about how much God loves us and how great and good and powerful He, who loves us, is. 

And, my dear one, He does love us. He is great. He is powerful… and, by His grace, we are His daughters, but baby girl, before you put on that crown - the crown that signals that you are His daughter - please remember the crown that was worn by His only son. The truth is that the fairy tale of our lives should come with a warning sign: {CAUTION - This crown may contain thorns}

Yet somewhere, somewhere in “feel good” theology where Jesus was always smiling and happy and God was always tender and laidback, we created this belief that, to be a child of the King - to share in His inheritance - entitled us to great things, and it does… it just entitles us to a heck of a lot of trials as well.

Now, at this point, I expect to be getting some kick-back. Why, you ask, do I expect that? Because I am the girl who would be giving kick-back. The Cinderella inside of me is right now saying, in her high pitched, chipper voice, “Oh but it’s not really that bad. Make it lighter. Make it happier. Make it… easier to stomach.” But that, dear one, is how we found ourselves in this mess and that is why we daily swing the pendulum between denial and disappointment.

If we have done any living, then most of us have found the following to be true: 

• There is not just one evil witch (ugly stepmother, wicked queen…) there are many and, more times than not, they do, at least in the short run, win. 
• There are a lot more toads than there are princes, and you may have to kiss many more toads than you were planning on kissing before a prince arrives. 
• There are also “Prince Charmings” that, once kissed, become toads. 
• There is not one conflict - there are many. 
• There is not an easy solution - more times than not the answers arrive over time. 
• There are not always comical sidekicks - sometimes, you must walk the most difficult of paths alone. 
• There is rarely an earthly hero who arrives just in time to save the day.
• There are instead: a lot of trials, a lot of confusion, many disappointments, and one guarantee… there will be more of all of those things in the future.

Many a night I have wished to be five-years-old again - to go back to a place where this world felt safe and the future seemed easy. Many a night I have wished to be part of a beautiful story.

But, my dear one, I am… you are… it’s just not as cut and dry as the control freak in us would like and it is not as predictable as a two hour feature will allow because it is not a story that even the most talented of authors could write… and it’s a story that is being written by an amazingly creative and terrifyingly sovereign God. You are the lead in a tale not about you, but about your King. You are a representative not of your position, but of your Kingdom. You have, in fact, been called to wear a crown.

In order to effectively answer this calling, the first thing, precious princess, that you and I must remember is how we got our crowns. We didn’t earn them nor do we deserve them.

They were instead graciously given to us by a loving Father who, in spite of us, loves us, believes in us, and fight for us. These crowns come with a price, but that’s true of anything with great value. The journey is a tough one - the path is a narrow one - the struggles are endless, but so is our King’s strength and so is our King’s faithfulness.

He is grooming you and me for our position.  The grooming is not an easy process, but I assure you it is for a great purpose - a purpose that will outweigh the price and the pain.

If, Lord willing, I have a daughter one day I will encourage her to dream and I will encourage her to act out the fairy tales of her heart.  I will also purchase her tiaras {I will actually purchase her multiple tiaras so that (secretly) I can wear some myself}.  However I will, at the same time, pray that I stay aware of ways to remind her that fairytales are, in fact, tales… and that, although as a child, it is good, healthy, exciting and freeing to dream, as one grows, one must learn to filter the tales from the truth.

As for me and you - I pray we will wear our crowns. I pray we will wear them confidently, boldly and proudly, but I also pray that daily, as we make the choice to put them on, we will do so aware of their cost. Your crown is not an accessory - it is a title, it is a calling, it is your destiny, it is your inheritance. The process of learning to wear it holds an eternal purpose and that purpose is a part of the perfect plan of our all loving and undeservedly gracious King.

I don't know much about what our royal coronations will look like, but I do know the One who will do the crowning... I do know our King who sits on the throne... and because I know Him, I do know that the crown that He has asked you to wear will be worth not only the wait, but also the weight.

-Biblically Blonde