No matter how hard we try to control our lives, eventually we will have to let go.

We can’t control everything that happens to us. We can’t control other people’s behavior, thoughts, or feelings. And our efforts to do so will only cause us pain.

Today I want to wrap up my meditations on Disney’s 2013 film Frozen, by looking at Queen Elsa’s emergence as a woman embracing her powers, captured in her song, “Let it Go.”

The interesting thing about it is it comes despite her best intentions, and most strenuous efforts.

Elsa models the journey from pain to power in the person addicted to compliance.

She has spent her young life trying to hide her uniqueness, trying to suppress her strength so that she will scare no-one, and harm no-one’s reputation.

She is living a life of shame so as not to shame her family.

And in a rare public moment, her coronation, the stress of being seen, and arguing with her sister Anna over whether or not to retreat back into solitude, leads her to unleash ice that causes people to declare her a monster. It causes her to flee.

And now, walking alone in the snow she sings her anthem of self-acceptance.

It expresses a lament that despite her every effort to control her abilities and suppress the emotions that bring them to the surface, they have come out and alienated her from her community.

It’s a fairy tale capturing the worst fears of many a “perfect kid”: my failure to manage everyone’s happiness through my own militant compliance will tear my family apart.

After a lifetime of obeying her father’ instructions to “Conceal it. Don’t feel it. Don’t let it show” she now embraces the freedom that comes with the collapse of her strategy. Now everyone knows, and she can no longer stand to hold back her true nature. And from her new place of isolation, she realizes that “It's funny how some distance makes everything seem small. And the fears that once controlled me can't get to me at all” For the first time in her life, she is willing to let go and test her limits, unhindered by the arbitrary rules of people who lack her abilities.

And she discovers that she’s amazing. She already knew she could do things no-one else can do. Now she discovers she can do things she never realized she could do.

In finally letting go, and allowing herself to experience her power, Elsa discovers that she can create things she never thought possible. In the space of a few bars, she builds herself an elaborate castle that becomes her home.

And she declares she will never go back to trying to be the perfect, compliant, hidden, good girl.

And this is an eminently relatable thing to anyone who has ever felt the need to keep a family secret. It is a relatable thing to any child of addiction or abuse who has sought to manage an angry or unpredictable loved one through exemplary behavior.

We try to be Teflon, but it doesn’t work.

The quest for numbness is an understandable but deadly solution to the problem of pain.

So many of our ailments come from our refusal to let go. Physiologically, our poor responses to stress can lead to cardiovascular disease, digestive issues, weight gain or loss, sleep disturbances, suppressed immunity, reproductive issues, addictions, and brain inflammation.

Psychologically, holding on to stress can lead to anxiety, depression, attachment issues or personality disorders.

Holding onto grudges, bad relationships, or unhealthy self-understanding can be toxic.

The codependent tries to manage a loved one’s destructive addiction-based behavior through endless patterns of compensation and enablement. Low self-esteem draws us into bad relationships, and the hope of keeping peace keeps us there.

Elsa’s expulsion from community, however, does not bring her true freedom. It merely starts a process. She is able to freely express her gifting. She is free from the pressure to hide – so part of her torment is gone. But she’s alone. She is cut off from the one person who truly loves her, her sister.

Removing ourselves from a painful place is a common intermediate step in healing. The danger is in considering the process complete.

We do not heal a relationship wound by fleeing from relationships.

We do not heal a wound experienced in community by fleeing community.

If we can resolve our difficulties within community we should. And if we have to leave, we should find a new one.

The Bible emphasizes this point. Despite our modern western emphasis on our personal relationship with God, the Biblical worldview is based in community.

Psalm 133:1 NIV says “How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity!

Proverbs 27:17 NIV says “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.”

Jesus himself, in Matthew 18:20, says "…where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them"

The healing process that begins when we leave an abusive relationship continues through the creation of healthy community. We don’t discover the call to singleness when someone mistreats us. We discover that something in this relationship needs to change. And hopefully, we discover that are worthy of not being mistreated. Our lightbulb moment should be that this dynamic is not ok. And part of the reason it hurts is because we want connection.

Frozen ends with Anna, seeing Hans about to kill her sister, stepping between Elsa and Hans, touching Elsa, and freezing solid. When Hans strikes Anna, his sword shatters. Seeing Anna frozen, Elsa hugs her, an act of true love, and thaws her back to life. Elsa ends Arrendale’s endless winter and ushers in a new era where their kingdom is open to the world, and she uses her powers to create beauty and joy.

And sure this is a fairy tale, but I receive it today as a word of hope.

1. A perfect space for you in community exists.
2. You do not need to shrink yourself, or hide your power, or abbreviate your identity to belong.
3. People who love you will stand by you no matter what anyone says about you. They will also tell you when you are going down the wrong path.
4. Your gifts are beautiful. You are beautiful

So just be beautiful.

But it’s cold out there, so bring a hat just in case.

(Photo Credit: Brett Jordan)