A princess appears in tattered clothing, disarrayed, dusty, disheveled, defiled, and discarded by life. In despair, she journeys along the side of the road. Travelers pass, some looking on in contempt, some in pity, some shutting their eyes as if the sight of her would mar the cornea of their delicate vision, perhaps permanently destroying their utopiotic world view–however, none stopping to inquire of her need. No one dared asked the obvious, the origin of her desperate disposition. Sun raging against her seasoned skin, rocks and gravel pelting toward her, caused by motorists increasing their acceleration after viewing this contemptible creature–fearing the onset of nauseation or the situational stench of her predicament would somehow erupt itself upon their world of wealth and well-being.
She was in disguise and did not know it. How could she know except it be revealed to her? Who or what denied her the privilege of royalty? Birthed in ignorance, her darkest doubt was the gnawing feeling that there was a missing piece of her life yet to be grasped. Many thought her to be disillusioned and drearily deranged. A sad slip of a girl, often imagining herself being rescued, reclaimed, and reinstated to her rightful residence–always one day, but not to-day.
She wore her story like an old coat–distinctively shabby, but warm and familiar, an old friend. Repeated rejection was oppressive, causing her to withdraw even more, acquiring contentment through the things she suffered and learning to live on what was already in her hand–unaware that which was in her hand was priceless, far more precious than jewels and her value far above rubies or pearls (Pr 31:10).
There was a closeness felt, of or to whom she could not comprehend, yet, there was a closeness. It seemed to tease her dreams. Wonder and a sense of refuge coexisted within her. Delighted she felt this nearness, but fearing that it too, would one day disappoint her as life was prone to do.
She grew stronger, more confident, somehow wiser in her reflections and understanding of life and its reliable rhythms. It beckoned to her, calling her name in random exchanges, snatches of conversation that confronted her, provoking her toward epiphany–the emotional ache was no longer there. The love she longed for, the love no one dared to give her, had fashioned itself within her. Arriving unannounced, as if it had been there all along, love was there, intertwined within her. In love she had lived and moved and existed. Through love, she was able to navigate life, do what she needed to do, and be who she needed to be at each incident and moment (Acts 17:28). How could she not know it? How could she not know love was as close to her as breathing?
“I just looked up one day and realized that love was always there. I am loved–not by someone, but by something–something greater than myself–something that made me and at the same time is within me. That something is powerful, wonderful, fearful and comforting. I have found him whom my soul loves (SS 3:4). He desires to be with and within me simultaneously. I don’t have to impress him with deception and fancy talk. I am most happy when I am enveloped in the strength and dignity of who I am and whose I am. I asked for revelation of who I was and I received that and more. The realization of my royalty and greatness is far more than I ever imagined. Did not my heart burn within me while He spoke to me (Lk 24:32)–yet I did not know that He, the lover of my soul, was also my King”?