Royalty

I am a beloved daughter of God! How dare the scum of the under-Earth to even talk to a princess, let alone try to mislead her! Oh, the audacity! The palace guard would never even allow him in through the castle gates, let alone into her chambers! My King has a Prince Charming ready for me, and when the time is right – when He deems that it is so – my valiant knight shall come and sweep me off my feet! And the entire kingdom shall rejoice!

But in the meantime, my King is preparing me for Himself. He is teaching me how to behave like royalty; for I used to be a servant. No, I was even lower than that. My ancestors willingly sold our family into slavery to an evil master. But my King, oh, my merciful, loving, generous King – He wanted me for Himself – He wanted me to be part of His kingdom. So He went to my slave master, and enquired as to what the cost would be to free me from my enslavement (although He already knew the cost), for He was saddened by the fact that my ancestors had knowingly and willingly made me a slave, and wanted to free me. My master, cruel and evil though he was, was also one of the King’s subjects, and – especially when face-to-face with his ruler – had to follow the law of the land. The King’s own law – which He must also follow, for He is just, and if He did not obey His own law, He would not be just – said that the only way for a slave to be freed was by death. That was the only way a contract could be fulfilled. Now, my old slave master had many slaves. In fact, the entire kingdom was under his hand, except for the King and His Son, the Prince. All people – who were once free men – became slaves. This happened at some point early in the history of the kingdom. I’m not sure when, exactly. Legend has it that there was once, long, long ago, a man and his wife who were free. But my master, who has never died, somehow convinced them that being slaves would make them more like the King, and would somehow make them happier. This story is quite strange to me, because this couple was living in the King’s palace, and the King had appointed them to high positions of authority in the kingdom. But they chose instead to be slaves. As a result, all of their children, and their children’s children have all been born into slavery. And as the King’s law states, children of slaves, born into the slave master’s house, remain slaves until death. So that is what my master told the King; the only way I could be made free was by death. My King wanted me for Himself – alive. So He asked my master (knowing in advance what his answer would be) if any death would suffice. And my master, the greedy, conniving, evil being that he is, saw an opportunity (or so he mistakenly thought) to take advantage of the King. He told the King that if the Prince – the King’s only royal Son – would be willing to be executed by him, my master, he would release all of his slaves. My master did not think the King would accept such an offer. For who would give the life of royalty for that of slaves, worth less than the dirt they slept on? But the King had foreseen that this was the offer the slave master would make, and He had, in fact, been preparing His Son since before His birth to give His life willingly to free us slaves. So the King accepted the slave master’s offer, and they arranged a time for the execution and exchange of life to be made.

At the appointed time, the Prince came out of the castle. We could see that He had been preparing Himself for this moment. The slave master was giddy with delight at his apparent impending victory. For the slave master envied the King and His kingdom greatly. He thought that if the Prince died by his hand, there would be no heir to the King’s throne, and that somehow, he would be able to take control of the kingdom. The Prince had asked His Father several times if there were any other way for us to be freed other than by His death, and for Him to choose that alternative. But each time, the King told Him there was no alternative. And the Prince, for He loved, honored, and respected His Father, and lived in accordance with His Father’s wishes, willingly walked out to the place of His execution. We were amazed, for we knew that at any moment, the Prince, by His authority as His Father’s Son, could call out His army to annihilate the slave master. I watched the scene with tears streaming down my face – for the King was letting His beloved Son be killed for our freedom!
The Prince allowed the slave master to bind His hands, knock Him to His knees, and beat Him! Oh, the audacity! He beat the royal Prince, in the presence of the King! But the King knew that it had to happen for us to be set free. The slave master beat the Prince – then he placed on His shoulders His cross – for that was the undignified, merciless way the slave master had chosen to kill the King’s Son. All men who died on a cross were considered cursed; there is no way to be killed that is less honorable. The Prince had to carry this massive structure of wood – all the while stumbling and bleeding – to the top of the hill overlooking the kingdom. And that is where he nailed Him down and hung Him up to die. After He had hung for what seemed like an eternity – for crucifixion is not only excruciatingly painful, but excruciatingly slow as well – with His last breath (and I do not even know where He found the energy to speak) He cried out, with a heart-breaking sound, “Father, why have you forsaken me?” And upon speaking those words, He died. You could feel – not just see, but feel, the life go out from Him. At that moment, our master gleefully began to laugh, and he seemed to swell with pride. But over his cackling, at the very same moment that the Prince’s bruised, bloody head fell limply to His regal chest, we could hear a heart-rending sound from the castle. It sounded like something great breaking. Others claimed it was the castle gate, and in fact the gate was cracked, but I believe the sound we heard was that of the King’s heart actually rending in two. For although He willingly offered up His Son as our substitute, and His Son dutifully obeyed His Father’s wish, He could not have paid a higher price for our freedom, though He owned all the land, and everything above the land, and everything below the land.

After the Prince died, we slaves found ourselves in an unusual position. There are a few days of which my memory is quite foggy. I do know that the cage in which we were enclosed was suddenly removed, but other than that, it was as if my memory has been blacked out. I do remember coming to and viewing an unbelievable sight. If the King Himself had not assured me that it was real, I might still not believe that what I saw existed. Some of the other slaves (they are still slaves now, in fact) said that I was foolish to believe such a sight. For what I saw was the Prince! He was alive! I always knew that the King was powerful, but I never could have imagined that He could return the dead to life! Yet this is what my eyes beheld! The dead Prince brought back to His glorious life! All of us slaves were standing together in a group, for although the cage had vanished, we had not moved from the spot where we had stood to witness the execution of the Prince. The Prince, now very much alive, approached us, and spoke to us. He told us that the King had purchased our freedom. All that we had to do was take the Prince’s hand, and walk with Him up to the castle, and the King would adopt us as His own children, on equal standing with the Prince, for when He was brought back to life, He was also restored to His rightful place at the King’s right hand. This was too good to believe for some of my fellow slaves. They did not believe their eyes or their ears. They were so accustomed to their lives as slaves, and so instead of taking the Prince’s hand and walking with Him to the castle, they walked back to the slave master, and asked to be slaves again! I could not fathom it! The slave master all to readily welcomed them back, and reclaimed his slaves. It was rather odd, however, to see how much he seemed to have shrunk, and to hear how much quieter he was now that the Prince had returned to His Kingdom. For I was beginning to see things as they really were.

After the Prince appeared to us, I know that I felt an undeniable pull in my heart. I do not know how long I stood there after I found out that my freedom had been purchased. It was all so very hard to believe! And the Prince, whom I had seen killed – executed – before my very eyes stood before me once again, declaring freedom. To someone who has been a slave her whole life, the gift of freedom, especially at such a cost, is next to impossible to believe. And yet I did. I stepped forward, and took the Prince’s hand. His grip was strong, yet gentle. He smiled at me, and we stood there for just a moment. It was so strange: there were many slaves who returned to captivity, but there were also many who stepped forward with me. Although there is only one Prince, it was as though He took each of us by the hand individually.

As we began our walk to the castle, the Prince began to tell me what it meant to be free; for a slave cannot know what a life of freedom entails. As He spoke, I began to understand that choosing freedom from slavery meant choosing to be part of the kingdom. In fact, the King had adopted me! I was to be part of the royal family! This meant also, though, that as His daughter, I was expected to obey Him. The King didn’t remember – and this is still a mystery to me – that I was ever a slave. He would treat me as His own flesh and blood. As such, He loved me, for no other reason than that I was His daughter. In fact, the Prince told me, they had both always loved me, and that was why the King had asked the Prince to die to set me free. Because of His great love for me, the King had many gifts for me. I could hardly believe this! The King, the ruler of the whole kingdom, with all of its wealth at His command, wanted to give to me! The Prince explained to me that although the King would not remember that I had been a slave, He would train me and teach me to be a proper princess. For many of the things I had learned as a slave, things I thought were part of me, I would have to give up. But the trade of my old life for this new one as a princess seemed more than generous! The Prince said it would not be easy, but that the King had a special Teacher that He had sent, just for me, who was part of the royal family, too, who would tutor me in the ways of royal living.

And so, for the past several years, I have lived in a castle. The King is now my Father. My Teacher is with me all the time. I think, sometimes, that I know better than my Teacher how I should be taught, for one of the not-so-royal things I learned as a slave was pride. As a result, sometimes I ignore my teacher. For it is hard work to get rid of all my memories of slavery. I was so accustomed to being dirty and cold that sometimes I think that is how I would rather be. So I start walking away from the castle, and smearing mud all over my beautiful, pristine ball gown. But my Teacher, He is right there with me, telling me to stop and turn back. If I am feeling really obstinate, I will put some mud in my ears, and His voice begins to fade away. If I decide to listen to Him, I remember how great the King is, how much He loves me, and how wonderful life in the castle is; and I walk back with my eyes on the ground and a heavy heart in my chest. For if I lift my eyes, I am reminded of that other time I stood outside the castle, in a cage, and saw my Prince executed, so that I could be adopted. Somehow, no matter how far I have strayed from the castle, my Teacher always manages to get my attention. Sometimes it takes pain to wake me from my stupor. When I turn around, and arrive at the castle gates, I must admit my mistake. Oh, the pain that causes me, for I know that each time I decide to go outside of the King’s house, I break His heart. Yet every time I return, He welcomes me back with a royal hug and kiss, and gently lifts my chin with His hand, cleans me off, warms me up, and dresses me in an even more beautiful gown than before. And it always seems as though if I bring up one of the times I left, He has no recollection of it; I am the only one who remembers.

This is my new life. The King has adopted me. I am His princess. The longer I spend in the castle, the less I remember my old way of life. The King does not seem to even remember that I was a slave. My Teacher is always with me. He is my constant companion, and my best friend! He guides me through life in the castle. He keeps me focused on the gift that enables me to be here, living as royalty. Royal life has its responsibilities. Whenever the King asks something of me, I must obey. Often, I do not understand His requests; but He is the King, wise beyond my feeble understanding. I know that He always has my best interests at heart. Sometimes, my old slave nature rears its ugly head, and I disobediently decide to go wandering. But those times are growing fewer and farther in between. Each day, I wake up, and listen to my Teacher’s instructions. It is not always easy to be a princess, but I would not exchange my new life for anything!