Personal Memoir

Perfected in Love

“Perfect love casts out fear…”

- 1 John 4:18

“For the love of Christ controls us…” (NASB95, ESV)

“For the love of Christ compels us…” (CSB)

- 2 Corinthians 5:14

In fifth grade, George MacDonald was my favorite author. I read almost all of his works, including The Princess and the Goblin, the book I’ve chosen to delve into for this memoir. It is rich with Christian symbolism, but as an eleven-year-old I do not recall picking up on any of it. Re-encountering this book in my Fairytales class with Dr. Martin last semester, however, I realized how much potential it had to speak into my Christian walk and how especially pertinent it was to me during that particular season. My personal readings coupled with Dr. Martin’s lectures made it a source of encouragement and spiritual grounding for me. We were on the part of the novel where Princess Irene is running in fear and there are shadows. Dr. Martin said: “Fear sees things that are not there.” For a long time after he said that, I would repeat this epiphany to orient myself to reality, whenever I found myself spiraling down into the dark pit of overwhelming fear, where memory chains and connections that were untrue and have no actual connection were forming all too realistically in my mind.

Fear has been at the foreground throughout the various stages of my life so far. As a result, I always coveted a firm voice, not a startled and fearful one. In high school, I read When Breath Becomes Air and wrote a blog entry about how much I loved the book, precisely because Paul had something I wanted: a firm, sound, and grounded voice, even upon facing death. This is also the reason why I loved Sharon Olds’ poem “His Stillness.” Olds anticipated her father to be unsettled by the news of his terminal illness, but he actually responded with composure instead: “I had feared they would have to / tie him down . . . I had not / known him. My father had dignity…” 

Although I coveted this steady, composed attitude in the face of fearful things and did not have it, the presence of fear in my life and my progressive victories over it have also been the greatest testament to God’s transformative power that is able to make the unassailable city fall (Isaiah 25:12) and to do what I thought was impossible time after time again. Slowly, by grounding me in Himself, God has been giving me the sound mind that I found compelling in others. 

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A central theme of The Princess and the Goblin is faith in the face of fear and darkness. The novel follows two young people, Princess Irene and Curdie, a miner boy. The plotline or key events are centered around 1) the goblins and 2) Irene’s great-grandmother. The goblins used to be normal people, but went underground as a result of being oppressed by the king. Over time, their looks changed and they grew more cunning and mischievous, taking joy in harassing people who live above ground because of the grudge they hold against the king’s descendants. As a result, Princess Irene is heavily protected from any encounters with the goblins and is not allowed to be out after dark. One time, though, Irene and her nurse go for a walk up the mountains and the sun sets. This is where Irene meets Curdie, who chases off the goblins with singing and laughter, two things the goblins hate. Later on, Curdie overhears the goblins plotting something against the kingdom and tries to uncover more. Eventually, we find out the goblins plan to kidnap Irene and marry her to the goblin prince. If that fails, they plan to flood the mine. At the end of the book, to Curdie’s surprise, right when he thinks the goblins have successfully captured Irene, he finds Irene safely hidden away and sleeping soundly at his own cottage, all coordinated by Irene’s mysterious great-grandmother. Irene’s great-grandmother symbolizes God. She is old and young at the same time—ageless. Irene first encounters her when she gets lost and goes up a flight of stairs. Since their first meeting, Irene’s faith in her grandmother goes back and forth, and at times she thinks her grandmother may have been a dream. As the story progresses and she goes through various trials, her faith and trust in her grandmother slowly increases. 

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“What a distinction it is to provide our own light, instead of being dependent on a thing hung up in the air – a most disagreeable contrivance – indeed no doubt to blind us when we venture out under its baleful influence!” (61) - The Goblins 

From early childhood all the way until early high school, I had an intense fear of insects. It seems trivial to write about now, and I wouldn’t mind it a bit if readers laugh out loud as they read this section. Back then, this fear really crippled me. Now I joke about and laugh at the memory of me hiding under a table in eighth grade because a wasp flew into the classroom. It’s crazy to think, though, that I had such a big fear of wasps to the point where I would literally do something like duck under the table in the middle of class. I lived in Spain, and a summer in Madrid certainly meant many bees and flies coming into your school or your house. If there was a fly in the living room, I would literally go upstairs and shut the door to my room. If there was a fly in my room, I would either try to kill it vigorously, or if I didn’t feel like dealing with it, I would shut the door to my room and go downstairs. 

Ultimately, fear is all about a lack of control. I distinctly remember telling my mom that I wouldn’t be afraid of insects if there was a law of nature where they could get close to me but stay within a few centimeters away, ensuring that they could never fly into my face, etc. What I was scared of really weren’t the insects themselves; it was the fact that flying creatures could fly anywhere and thus there was no guarantee I could kill them or keep track of what they will do. I was also afraid of spiders, since like flying insects, they were not limited to crawling and thus were unpredictable. I would constantly scan the ceiling before going to bed at night to see if there were any spiders. My vivid imagination pictured spiders descending down on their webs to crawl over my face while I was asleep.

Through all this, my mom would point out to me my need to change. I always gave excuses for this fear, though, and told her that everyone is scared of bugs. I would then give her examples of how other girls also scream when they see bugs and desperately try to kill them. Just like MacDonald’s goblins, I was happy to not be exposed to the light. I was self-deluded and self-justifying.

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“And if his string failed him he was helpless…Seeing he could do nothing better he would at least find where the end of his string was, and, if possible, how it had come to play him such a trick” (128). - Curdie

More intense than the fear of insects was my fear of man, which really manifested itself in middle school and reached its peak during the first year of high school. My fear of man was due to a desire to please people. I did whatever I thought would get people to like me more. This became intensely heightened that first year of high school—I was so self-conscious about everything, constantly very acutely aware of what people thought about me. This consumed me to the point where every day on the way to school my chest would hurt because I was so anxious. I remember being self-conscious when a rich and popular classmate who clearly disliked me reacted in surprise to my cheap tennis shoes. I also remember caring so much about what people thought of me, to the extent of being self-conscious and ashamed about my hobbies, which were in reality very neutral things, like playing around with watercolor. While one girl commented on how she thought my work was cool, I would be feeling self-conscious about what the other girl at the table thought.

My fear of man, or my desire to please people, was once again also tied to the issue of control. I would spend my time “chasing” friends, trying to hang on to whoever I wanted to be friends with. I desperately wanted people to like me, especially the ones who I wanted to like me. I wanted to be “chosen” by those I chose, and I would find myself disappointed whenever girls in my group of friends grew closer to each other even though I wanted to be included. I could never focus on caring for the people right next to me: I was looking anxiously about at the friends I wanted but couldn’t have, and always trying to “chase after” them. This idol of people-pleasing and of friendship consumed my life to the point where I could not keep going anymore. 

This is exactly like what Curdie experiences. He manages to chase the goblins off with songs and laughter, but eventually all his own means fail him. In Chapter 18, Curdie tries to find out more about the goblins’ plan against the kingdom, and he uses a string for him to find his way out of their cave. His string fails him, and during that time the goblins also discover and dash him into a hole. The string is a symbol throughout the novel. While Curdie uses a physical string, Princess Irene has an invisible thread which leads to wherever her grandmother wants her to go. Just like how Curdie’s string fails him in the goblin cave, my own string, where I was at the center of my universe, completely failed me. I was at the end of myself, and I could not go on. I had to be brought to this place of utter brokenness. My string had to utterly fail me. Ultimately, in the book, Princess Irene follows her grandmother’s invisible string and rescues Curdie out of the cave. MacDonald is trying to contrast Curdie’s self-made string with the grandmother’s invisible string. The former fails, even though it seems more tangible, and the latter is real, even though it seems less visibly tangible.

At the end of this season of intense anxiety, I cried out to God for deliverance, week after week. By this time, God had already given me more faith than I had in middle school. In middle school I had gone through a faith crisis during a hard season (which also grew out of my problem of people-pleasing and fear of man) where I did not want to follow God anymore because I could not see His hand in my life. I had not truly experienced Him yet. I felt like Irene, who very early on in Chapter 5 tries to find her grandmother but does not find her. That season, I also did not find God. Then in early high school, when I went through a season exactly like the one I went through in middle school, this time, instead of turning away from God, I knew He was there. This is just like how Irene’s faith grows gradually through the story. When she follows her invisible string into the goblin cave to rescue Curdie, she has a moment of despair and doubt, but this time she knows her grandmother would see her through. Another one of Irene’s growth of faith is seen in Chapter 15, where when she does not immediately find her grandmother, she concludes that … "the old lady might be somewhere in the darkness” (108). Early high school was the first time where I was able to trust God in the dark. 

Then Irene has a moment which we can interpret as a conversion moment. After a fearful experience, Irene comes to her grandmother and her dress is muddied from falling on the mountain. To cleanse it, her grandmother takes burning roses and “passed it once and again and a third time over the front of her dress; and when Irene looked, not a single stain was to be discovered” (111). Pressing the roses three times is symbolic of the three days where Jesus died for our sins and rose again. When our life is hidden in him, there is no more stain on us. Even though, like Irene, I still struggled with faith after getting saved, I can say that it was at the end of my first year of high school, as a result of that hard season, where I was truly born again. During this time, God also answered my incessant cries and He freed me from the chains of my fear of man. This was the first time my life had been completely turned upside down like that. I knew that I was free. 

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My fear of insects and my fear of man were not the epitome of my fears. During my sophomore year of college, God gave me a hunger for more faith. I would go to Gold Star Chapel and pray desperately for Him to increase my faith. I would pray “by any road, at any cost” over and over again. I don’t think I quite knew what I was praying for. God answered my prayers, but sometimes answered prayers hurt. Towards the end of that year, and especially over the summer, I was thrown into the most intense spiritual warfare. Darkness, confusion, and extreme fear harassed me. I told the devil, though, that I would never trade any of it, and I wouldn’t want to go back to the way I was before. This past year has been the most transformative season of my life. I could say that my life has been turned upside down even more so than it was when I got saved. I am reminded of the verse in 2 Corinthians 3:18 where we are taken from one degree of glory to another. I was zealous for God, but now I love Him. I have come to truly understand all the essential truths of the Christian faith, truths that I thought I already grasped before. Before this season, I didn’t even know what I was missing—it truly is wisdom from above. I asked for faith—God grew me in faith and more. He grew me in Love. “But now faith, hope, and love remain, these three; but the greatest of these is love” (1 Cor. 13.13). 

Knowing God’s love has in turn led me to realize the importance of the verse I have at the beginning of my memoir: “for the love of Christ controls/compels [me].” This has two meanings for me. The first is that when the love of Christ controls me, fear is not controlling me. The second is that the love of Christ should be the one compelling factor that motivates me in every little thing that I do. It should also compel me to not only receive the love of God, but to, because this love has been poured out in my heart, love others in a way that is impossible with the flesh. 

The scary things Irene has to go through remind me of my own spiritual warfare. The following quote is a really accurate description to my own experiences: 

“[Irene] imagined the creature running up those long ascents after her, and pursuing her through the dark passage – which, after all, might lead to no tower! That thought was too much. Her heart failed her, and, turning from the stair, she rushed along to the hall . . . she ran, unable to think for fear . . . but that is the way fear serves us: it always sides with the thing we are afraid of” (103-104). 

This quote is taken from Chapter 14, where Irene is chased by a cobb creature. Even though she knows she should have run to her grandmother, she runs the opposite way instead. What she knows in her head fails to connect with her heart and thus negatively affects her actions. This is all because she doesn’t know whether running to her grandmother will actually work. The passage perfectly captures how fear stems from our imaginations, taking us away from reality. As Irene is running, she “[forgets] that, had [the creature] been after her, such long legs as those must have overtaken her long ago” (104). In the moment, Irene cannot think logically about what is obvious in the situation. Truly, fear “always sides with the thing we are afraid of” (104). 

When dark clouds came looming over my head and the enemy bombarded me with his fiery darts, I struggled to walk by faith and not sight, to plant myself in the truth and not how I felt. I would sit in fear, turning things over in my head the whole day, attempting to untangle the situation on my own. Over time, though, I learned that I should never do that. When Irene tries to save herself, she gets herself into more trouble instead. Similarly, I learned that the first thing I should do when I am attacked is to stop thinking and run to Jesus, and to dig my roots deep into His love. Through the months, I became better at this. I could not put this into practice for a long time because, just like Irene, I couldn’t actually believe going to God first would solve the problem. 

Slowly, I could see how I was growing in faith. MacDonald perfectly captures this journey with Irene. In Chapter 20 and 21, when Irene goes into the cave to rescue Curdie, she has a moment where “she burst into a wailing cry, and again threw herself down on the stones” (153) because the grandmother’s string only leads her to a heap of stones. She is in a situation where there seems to be no way out. But in this very situation, she picks herself up, “certain [that] her grandmother’s thread could not have brought her there just to leave her there” (155). Here, Irene shows us that faith is believing even when there seems to be no way out. This belief is grounded on nothing else except the character of her grandmother. I too, began to be able to take God on His promise that there is always a way out when I go to Him, that fear is never inevitable, even if I can’t see it or feel it at all. I believe it against all odds, because He promised it. I have witnessed His faithfulness in such moments where I have stood on His promise. Surely enough, for Irene, the string leads her out of the heap of stones and straight to Curdie, for whose rescue she is sent to the cave in the first place. 

For me, being perfected in God’s love could not have happened if I did not truly begin to understand who He is and who I am in Him. In The Gift of Being Yourself, Benner ties love and identity together: 

“In order for our knowing of God's love to be truly transformational, it must become the 

basis of our identity. Our identity is who we experience ourselves to be-the I each of us 

carries within. An identity grounded in God would mean that when we think of who we 

are, the first thing that would come to mind is our status as someone who is deeply loved by God” (47). 

This relates to what the grandmother tells Irene early on in the book: “"I know that. I let you have mine. I haven't got your name. You've got mine." Irene and her grandmother have the same name. In the same way, I have died, my life is now hidden in Christ, and I live in Him. Ultimately, knowing my identity in Christ is the antidote to my battle against fear. I know that I only have to live into who God has already made me to be—raised with Christ, a new creation in Him, and now light when I was formerly darkness (Ephesians 4). This realization gives me the courage in my spiritual battles and the courage to be able to share the love of Christ with a dark world, grounded in who I am in Him.