In the beginning of Phantom, we see a scantily-clad dancer transformed into a diva singing "Think Of Me". After her success, she lights a candle in the chapel and a voice tells her 'bravissima'. The smile on her face is one of hearing the praise of the one who matters most to her, even though she's frightened by the presence of the voice. Later, she is met in a side-room by an old friend from her childhood who leaves her to fetch a carriage so they can go out together. The voice confronts her after the friend leaves and she permits it full mastery. It appears behind her mirror, a masked man in black. He urges her to come with the 'angel of music' he masquerades as, telling her to turn her face from the light. They enter his richly-furnished lair under the opera house and he begs her to help him make the music of the night as he twines his magic around her naive mind. She unmasks him and he promises to return her, and when he does, she refuses to see anyone. The prima donna's jealousies provoke the phantom to ruining her show and causing the young diva to need to take her place through a murder. Terrified, the girl flees to the roof with her friend who attempts to comfort her. They agree to get married and the phantom swears his vengeance. At a masquerade ball three months later, the phantom declares he's written an opera, takes the diva's engagement ring. In the chapel, she confesses how afraid she is of playing opposite the phantom and her friend promises he'll protect her. Early the next morning, she goes to visit her father's grave alone, mourning and begging him to help her say goodbye. She is put under the phantom's spell again until her friend discovers her whereabouts, he and the phantom fight. She rides away with her friend the victor after begging him not to kill the phantom. The opera takes place that night and the phantom sings alongside her. She warns her friend subtly and the phantom draws her in again, then confesses his obsession with her. Crying, she rips off his mask and exposes him. He then kidnaps her to his lair where he demands she change into a wedding gown he prepared for his own wedding with her. The friend arrives and the phantom gives her an ultimatum: marry the phantom or the friend dies. She kisses the phantom and he cries, releasing both of them.
We were childhood sweethearts with Christ, but then tragedy/life occurred and we never maintained the relationship, allowing a voice masquerading as an angel to take hold in our lives. Put under its spell, we wander down, caught in the tantalizing music of the night. We refuse to see anyone after we return from our foray. When power is placed in our hand through the darkness's obsession with us, we realize how frightening what we're addicted to really is and we flee to the arms of a promise that says "let Me lead you from your solitude". For a season, we're together with Him, before the 'angel' claims us. Because of our history with the 'angel', and not all bad either, we're loath to let Him destroy it even when we see it defeated and shameful. We reach the point where dreaming of our loss won't help us to do all they dreamed we could and ride away with the conqueror robbed of a complete victory while we ask why can't the past just die. We're up on the bridge, still in its arms, and we face the choice: we can either unmask our struggle and allow Him to send reinforcements or we can pass the point of no return and fully cede to the darkness.
Right here is where the allegory ends, for when He comes for us in the end, He comes wholly victorious or not at all. We CAN'T give into the darkness to save Him, for He'd already died for us. So we must stand strong and let Him be wholly victorious.
But most don't. Most are too afraid to unmask the struggle, afraid of condemnation and death... and possibly also too comfortable in the seduction the darkness weaves over us. For death tastes sweet 'til you reach the dregs. Just drink five cups of coffee a day brewed in a french press that lets the most powdery and smallest grounds get through and you'll understand what I mean. Coffee should NEVER be even SLIGHTLY muddy-textured or crunchy! /bad metaphor
So when I say 'the phantom of the opera is there inside my mind', I mean 'I need you to know I'm not through the night, some days I'm still fighting to look towards the light'. But I'm getting there by His grace. So can you, and so can the others who still listen to the haunting strains of the music of the night.
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