I asked an intelligent, professional, and deeply spiritual friend what she thought of the Twilight Saga and she said almost breathlessly, “It’s crack. I can’t get enough of it.”
I’m also a junkie for the Twilight Saga’s completely unrealistic love story. “Who acts like that?”, I ask myself, but I keep coming back. Deep down inside I knew who acted that way. Edward’s inhumanly perfect love and Bella’s passionate attachment to him echoed —don’t laugh—the sacred romance between God and me.
All of us bring our experiences, longings, fears, and hopes to a story. This gallery reflects the parallels I see between the Twilight Saga and my Christian life, but you don’t have to be a Christian to find your own soul’s journey in the books or movies. Go through the slides and let your own insights emerge. That’s one of the best things about good stories. They’re open to multiple, very personal interpretations.
A Facebook group exists whose members declare, “Jesus Christ is my Edward Cullen.” An overstatement I think, but the group’s creator’s ideas resonate with the hundred or so people who’ve joined and, I suspect, many more. “Deep down, deeper than anything,” she says, “we as girls just want to be pursued and to be loved in a way that leaves us feeling chosen and wanted.” To her credit she recognized Edward Cullen is pure fantasy, but he’s the kind of quixotic hero that emerges again and again in chick lit and flicks. A shy, awkward girl is whisked from her dull life when the most popular boy in the school realizes she’s beautiful. Even sacred literature points to the yearning we common gals have to be wanted by someone extravagantly out of our league. The Shulamite woman in the Song of Songs captures the heart of the king and boldly asserts, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” Verse 7:10. You go, my dark and lovely! The possibilities make a sistah swoon.
Lonely, miserable Isabella Swan—such a revealing fairytale name—leaves sunny Arizona and is forced into exile in dreary Forks, Washington. Her flaky mother and clueless father frequently fail her, and her new friends, including that pestering Mike, don’t really “get” her. No one sees the real Bella, and she’s disconnected from the kind of love that will abolish the existential question, “Is this all there is?” To me, her feelings of alienation recall the human condition.
Christianity teaches we’re all banished from Paradise by the great alienater: sin. Romans 3:23 says, “All have sinned, and fall short of the glory of God.” But once upon a time we walked with God in the cool of the evening. The memory of long-lost glory is in us. I think God keeps it there so we’ll return to Him and be restored to our original fabulousness.
When Bella sees Edward for the first time she’s stunned by his “devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful” looks, but in biology class when she has to sit next to him, he stiffens as if he’s repulsed. At the sound of the bell Edward bolts as if propelled by an ejector seat, leaving Bella staring after him. On the drive back home she fights back tears of humiliation.
As a child I had a picture of the Garden of Eden After The Fall. It depicted Eve shrinking away from a towering, angry God. The ominous image scared me. But the truth is, we can be as wrongheaded about God’s motivation as Bella was about Edward.
What I thought was God’s rejection turned out to be the beginning of a rescue plan driven by love greater than I can comprehend. The Song of Songs, a striking allegory of God and us, confirms His ardor. “
I belong to my beloved,
and his desire is for me .”(7:10). I wouldn’t go as far as to say we humans are God’s brand of heroin, but He’s pretty crazy about us. That I’m sure of.
The next time Bella sees Edward, she’s irresistibly drawn to his gaze. “I don’t think he likes me,” she tells her friend Jessica. “The Cullens don’t like anybody… But he’s still staring at you.” Score one for the girl with absolutely nothing to offer.
Sure Edward is bizarre, maddening, prettier than Bella, and tenses whenever she gets too close, but she can’t help herself. Literally. She can’t help herself! Bella is a veritable trouble magnet, and later we see she needs Edward to save her from one terrible fate after another.
Questions haunt her. Who is Edward?
What is he? She burns to know the mystery of why he chose to help
her . I ask these same questions about the peculiar Man I’m drawn to, the Jewish carpenter slash God’s Son. But I’ve learned to trust Him. Maybe because He paid a high price to save me from my own terrible fate. John 15:13 tells us, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friend.” The
Twilight Saga
gently nudges me explore the wonder of my Savior, although His unmerited love still baffles me.
In good stories archetypes abound. Edward as a type of savior is one, but he’s also a dangerous monster capable of killing Bella. It’s odd how little revulsion Bella has for her beau’s bestial nature once she discovers it. One could surmise that she sees him like an Aslan:
not safe, but good. Or perhaps Bella’s not afraid of Edward because she’s got her own beast within: lust.Bella relies on Edward’s strength to temper the devouring urges he arouses in her. His admirable restraint in all things—he doesn’t
want to be a monster—tames the beast in her.
In Matthew 6:13, Jesus taught us to pray, “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.” Sadly, I’m the evil one sometimes. The Twilight Saga reminds me to make sure I don’t let my inner monster take more than I’m entitled to, devouring those I claim to love.
Once Bella realized Edward is a vampire she told him. “I decided it didn’t matter.” Edward thought she was nuts! But the more he tried to convince her he was a fatal attraction, the more she fell “unconditionally and irrevocably” in love.
It had to suck to be Edward—again, no pun intended. He hated the soulless thing he’d become, but Bella shattered the eternity of despair stretched out before him with her love and acceptance. He’d be damned, literally, without her.
It doesn’t matter are the grace drenched words of a fearless lover, who sees us at our worst and wants us anyway. Mercy, like the kind Jesus showed the woman found committing adultery, is a powerful incentive. It makes the command “go and sin no more” possible.
“Love covers a multitude of sins,” 1 Peter 4:8 tell us. To cover here means more than “to hide from view.” It denotes restorative action. Love should ultimately restore us to be exactly who God created us to be: protectors, not predators; worthy, not worthless. The Twilight Saga reminds me of these truths.
The novel “New Moon
” opens with Bella dreaming of her grandmother, only the creased and withered old lady isn’t her Gran at all; she’s Bella. When Bella sees herself in a mirror next to perpetually 17-year-old Edward, it illustrates perfectly how doomed their relationship is. She awakens from the nightmare with a start.
We are not immortal, but we do have immortal souls. This is why the notion of a love that lasts forever is so appealing. No human lover can give us eternity, but an eternal relationship is possible. The Westminster Catechism says the chief end of man is to “love God and enjoy Him forever,” and Jesus said, “I will never leave you or forsake you.” We were created for a happily-ever-after, so we don’t have to let go of the idea. What we need to release is the fantasy that we can have it with a guy. I don’t care how much he sparkles in the sun!
One criticism of Bella I’ve heard is her single-mindedness when it comes to Edward. She’d gladly ditch her precious humanity to be a vampire, but Edward restrains her. This disturbs many readers and moviegoers, who asked themselves, “What will it profit Bella if she gains Edward but loses her soul?” Good question!
But I wonder if something else might be going on here. If Edward is a type of Immortal Beloved, perhaps Bella’s crazy love is a type of extraordinary faith. John 12:24 talks about a seed falling to the earth and dying to produce many seeds. But the seed doesn’t truly die: it changes form. The verse is about us “dying” to our ambitions, desires, and sins. If we do, we will eventually reap a harvest of virtues many can enjoy.
“Those who love their life will lose it, while those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life,” is a passage I’ll bet Bella could relate to. And maybe that’s what Stephenie Meyer was getting at through several metaphors in the series: true love will cost us, but it’s a force with the power to transform us.
Edward saves Bella from car wrecks, gang rape, his brother, and even herself, all with relative ease. But the one enemy I worried about, a formidable, and certainly more vicious foe, was the group of roaming vampires who were the Cullen family’s nemesis. Those big, bad monsters didn’t share the Cullens’ values. They drank human blood and deceived people, not to blend in, but to lure them as prey and kill them. At first glance they regarded Bella as a snack, not a friend.
Not everyone believes in evil, but most religions acknowledge it, and that evil isn’t always “us.” 1 Peter 5:8 describes a spiritual adversary and gives instructions on how to deal with him that could be ripped from a Cullen family manual. “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him.”
This Twilight Saga reminds me that love may offer us remarkable protection, but we can never lose sight of the very real conflicts in our lives, and our sometimes blood-drawing struggles to overcome them.
In a brave attempt at normalcy, the Cullens throw Bella a birthday party. When a paper cut slices her finger, she and Edward realize something so ordinary—a teensy paper cut—in a room full of vampires is life threatening. Edward decides to leave Bella for her own good, and she grieves his loss.
Enter Jacob, Bella’s new best friend, and soon-to-be love interest. He’s an affable "monster" with his own impressive superhero powers. His charisma inspired scores of Edward defectors to embrace “team Jacob.” But I didn’t. Jacob is not Edward. I turned a lot of pages trying to get back to Bella’s main squeeze.
Sometimes the Immortal Beloved hides from His lover. The ancients called this the dark night of the soul. We can’t see or feel an inkling of His love, yet His voice remains inside us. One of my favorite passages of scripture is Matt. 20:28, when Jesus assures His followers, “Surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” Fortunately, I don’t have to try keep myself in danger to hear Him. My Bible, Mass, and even teachers keep me hearing His voice. Sheesh, Bella! Nobody has to go out like that.
You may love it, hate it, or feel nothing at all, but you can’t deny the Twilight Saga is a force that has captivated multitudes of devoted fans for a reason. Jesus is not my Edward Cullen, but the series did remind me of aspects of my relationship with Him. Some read or watched and discerned a call for abstinence in a culture where we’re taught to give in to whatever we want, regardless of how bad it is for us. Other zealous souls saw the series as a gateway into the occult. I’d dare say most fans enjoy the Twilight Saga
hoping one day they’ll find someone a bit out of this world who will choose them—wonder of wonders—and love them fiercely.
I’m sorry to say he won’t be an Edward. No mere mortal can compete with him. But what the series can teach us about ourselves, our hungers and weakness—what it demonstrates about loving with passion—those things can be useful. Whether we apply what we learn—loosely—to our mates, or reserve such for our relationships with God, they’re lessons many of us can use.
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