I just saw the multiple Academy award-winning Pan’s Labyrinth, one of the many films put off due to parental priorities. It was worth the wait. The effects, design, and imaginative creativity are stunning.
But the storyline is more impressive. In a blending of the very real horrors of the Spanish Civil War and the mythology of fantasy fairy tale, Guillermo del Toro reveals the power of a counter-story. The central character, Ofelia, is caught between fact and fantasy. Her father replaced by a fascist army captain, her mother suffering in pregnancy, and war all around her. She retreats to the “safety” of her fairy tale world, a world in which she is a lost princess, approached by a faun who gives her three challenges, which must be passed in order for her to be reunited with her father and king of of the underworld.
Again and again, Ofelia turns to the challenges and promises of her fairy tale world for a sense of purpose and hope. If she can just pass the tests, she will live forever with her father. She will reign in a land of peace, without pain or terror. The hope of union with her father and a place among royalty enable her to persevere under the harshist of real-world suffering.
And so it is with the counter-story of the gospel of Christ. A story that facilitates, not escape but engagement. Like Ofelia, we are challenged to believe in the world to come, a kingdom in which we will reign with our father, a world without pain and filled with peace. A belief that motivates personal sacrifice, compassion, and love. The counter-story of the gospel offers us true power, hope and acceptance from a loving father in a never-ending, righteous kingdom, which is precisely why we can follow in Ofelia’s sacrificial footsteps. Unlike Ofelia’s fairly tale, however, our tale is no myth.