A Prince was born and it's all over the news. It's captivated America and taken over media headlines. He's third in line to the throne. His future holds titles and responsibilities: Son of a Duchess, Head of State over numerous nations, Supreme Governor of an entire country's church. Just days old and his future is planned. No questions asked. No earning the titles or losing the status. This Prince was birthed into it like you are birthed into air. It's in His blood. Royalty.
And countless mothers stare in awe at this Majestic Mama- What must it be like- to be her- to birth him. How will she raise him? Will she participate in his schooling? Will she use positive discipline, behavior modification, emotion coaching, or just a royal butt woopin? Will she make him meals or teach table etiquette? Will she share her faith and train him in God's Word and ways? Will they read bedtime stories together and bend the knee to pray each night? Will he call her Mom, Princess, Duchess, Madam?
What a mighty responsibility.
It all seems like a fairytale and we're thankful it's her story, yet we crave the happy ending; the once upon a time beginning. We exhale with thanksgiving that the expectation's on her, not us. The eyes of the world look and watch, question and consider. He's a Prince and she's his Royal Mother.
But what I may not know, what I might have forgotten, what this Mama is reflecting on today- I'm royal too. My son, he's not just any boy. He's the child of a King. Son of a princess. His future is written in stone- his works fashioned before time began. I bore this boy through water, and God bore him again in the Spirit (John 3:5).
I coddled, cleansed, and kept him safe. I prayed with him. I interceded for him. I taught him grammar, math, manners, and a myriad of dos and don'ts. I've appealed to him with bribes, and beaten him with rods. I've rubbed his back, tickled his pits, and giggled over toots and poop and life's mysterious sounds. And smells.
More than 6,000,000 minutes in my care. Over 4,000 days under my responsibility. 12 years for me to show him love. To teach him truth. To lead him to Jesus. And watch Jesus have His way with a boy named Joseph.
My son is a prince and an heir to the throne. God's throne. An eternal throne. Once upon a time, twelve years ago, he was born. And he will live happily ever after in the presence of God and the hands of his Savior. And what happens in between? This royal Mama lavishes him with affection and dramatic adoration. She corrects him and cries with him, while the Author fills in the gaps. Gaps only He can perfect. Making wrongs right and walking a prince to the door of His courts.
He shaped his inwards parts and covered him in my very womb. That tiny frame was never hidden from God when he was made in secret, skillfully wrought by the Master Maker. His substance was seen before that little face was ever formed. And there's a book. A book containing all his days; fashioned for him when as yet there were none of them (Psalm 139:13-16). The words within speak of my son- that he's of a chosen generation, of a holy nation. Yes, even a royal priesthood! That he's a special person (1 Peter 2:9). Yes, that's my boy. No earning the title or losing the status. My prince was birthed into it like you are birthed into air. It's in His blood. It's through His blood. It's a Royal Blood-Line and an eternal Life-line.
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