Let me tell you a story…
Once upon a time, there was a glorious kingdom ruled by a monarch of unsurpassed excellence, wisdom, and might. This king had two adopted children, and daily he met with them in the palace gardens to teach them about the kingdom. They had wonderful times together, and they loved each other dearly.
There was, however, an insidious and evil High Chancellor who plotted to take the throne! He had planted his traitorous spies and assassins throughout the kingdom.
One dark night, war broke out. Though the King and his armies were victorious, as the enemy retreated, the royal children were kidnapped and taken as prisoners.
Gagged, bound, beaten, thrown into a filthy cart, they could only weep in terror and sorrow as they watched their beloved home shrink in the distance.
The dark shadowy mist of the wild territory of their enemy became all they knew in the months ahead. They were forced to work as slaves deep in the mines of the enemy’s fortress, chained in the cold darkness and treated with brutality.
The children tried to recall the things their King-Father would talk about with them in the gardens back in the wonderful, dreamlike days before their imprisonment, but it was hard to remember clearly. Hope was thin and threadbare.
Then, one day, an unusual Messenger rode into the dark territory – an Ambassador sent by the King of the glorious Kingdom! He had come to reclaim not only his children, but all the slaves, and had brought an unimaginably large amount of treasure as ransom.
Their foul enemy mockingly laughed as he greedily counted the treasure, for he planned to keep the ransom and the slaves and kill the Ambassador.
Suddenly his laughter strangled in his throat, and he cowered like a dog, as the Ambassador threw off his outer robes and was revealed to be – the King himself, with a blazing sword in hand and fire in his eyes!
The King contemptuously and furiously beat him with the flat of his sword, sending him yelping in pain and humiliation and scurrying like a rat out the nearest door.
Then the King searched the dungeons till he found his children. He struck off their chains and brought them out to a light-filled open square. He wept with joy as he held their bruised, filthy bodies close to his heart.
Kissing their faces and looking into their tear-filled eyes, he told them that though they were now free, it was not yet time to return home.
In the meantime, they were to tell as many slaves as possible that their time of enslavement was over! Because their freedom was purchased by the King, they now had citizenship and a future home in the glorious Kingdom. They and any slave who claimed the King as their own would be given full rights and citizenship as his royal children.
The King had the children bathed and fed, and gave them clean, lovely robes and bright crowns of gold to wear as proof that they were his Royal Ambassadors.
Then he pulled from his bag a large leather book, carefully copied by his own hand. Written in the language of the glorious kingdom, it contained all that the Ambassador-Children would need to know to complete their task before the King returned.
As he handed them each a copy of his Book, it transformed into swords exactly like His – swords that glowed with a warm white light, strong enough to kill a dragon, sharp enough to split a hair, yet light enough that a child could carry it.
The children solemnly and with fierce joy strapped on their weapons. Then after one last long embrace and promise of His swift return, the King rode off.
The children, watching, saw his strong, upright form slowly grow faint in the mist. Then they turned, bright faced, back to the dark territory to start the task of declaring to the other slaves the same truth and promise they had been given, and to wait with fierce joy for their King-Father’s victorious return.
(Part Two coming soon – stay tuned!)
Wear your crown. Carry your sword. – Maria
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