Devotional Archives--Princess

October 31, 2005 —

Didn't Daddy Tell You?

“I delight greatly in the LORD; my soul rejoices in my God. For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness.” Isaiah 61:10a (NIV)

When I was a little girl, I loved to go to my grandparents’ house. Grandma often had a new, home sewn dress waiting for me. I’d squeal and run into the bathroom to put it on, and then rush to the front porch where Grandpa sat waiting for me on the wooden swing.

“Do you like my new dress, Grandpa?” I’d ask and then I’d twirl before him. I don’t remember the words my grandpa said—I’m not even sure he said any, but the twinkle in his eyes let me know I was his princess.

I don’t think my grandpa ever minded the money spent on the material for my new dresses. I rather think He enjoyed clothing me in lace and ribbons, that he delighted in giving me something that made me feel loved and beautiful.

At the heart of every woman is a need to be someone’s princess. In the children’s movie, A Little Princess, the heroine, Sarah, once rich and pampered, is reduced to rags, made to live in a cold, dirty attic, and expected to serve the other pupils. The mean headmistress, Miss Minchen, gloats and belittles Sarah saying that Sarah certainly can’t think of herself as a princess now that she is dressed in rags.

Sarah’s response goes something like, “It doesn’t matter what I am like on the outside. On the inside I am still a princess. All women are. Even you. Didn’t your daddy ever tell you?”

For many women, the thought of being a beautiful princess seems like fairy tale thinking, a dream five-year-olds indulge in when watching Disney movies.

But Daddy has told us. The King of the Universe says when we choose Him, He adopts us as His own child. (Romans 8:16-17) The last time I checked a daughter of a king is called a princess. And don’t all princesses love beautiful dresses? He took care of that as well. The Bible says He clothes us in robes of righteousness.

Perhaps it’s been a long time since you’ve felt delighted in. Maybe you’ve never felt you were anyone’s princess. Or, like Sarah in A Little Princess, your world might have left you bereft and you stand in front of the mirror seeing nothing but rags, hard calluses, and dirt smudges.

If you’ve been welcomed into God’s royal family, it’s time to see yourself as you really are. A daughter of the King, dressed in snowy white robes, welcomed before the throne of Grace.

So, just take a moment and embrace the truth that you are a princess, the daughter of the High King of the universe. Feel the shimmering gown of righteousness slip over your head. Stand in front of a mirror and gasp as you see the likeness of your Father. Then, rush to where He sits waiting for you. Do a little twirl before Your Daddy God and then look into His eyes. There’s a twinkle there that says he delights in you.

Father, help me believe I am Your princess.

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November 7, 2005 —

Cinderella

“. . . all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away.” (Isaiah 54:6 NIV)

In Disney’s rendition of the classic tale, Cinderella, there’s a scene that is forever lodged in my mind and heart. After Cinderella has endeavored faithfully to finish all that has been required of her, she is given a present by her mice friends, a beautiful gown.

Pulling the gown over her head, Cinderella dares hope she might now be presentable enough to go to the ball. She wants to feel like a princess, even for a moment.

Cinderella rushes down the stairs, eager to be included in the night’s events. Instead, she is met by a calculating glare from her stepmother and by the raging, destroying hands of her stepsisters. When they are done with her, she once again stands in rags.

Weeping as her stepfamily pulls away in the carriage, bound for the ball, Cinderella is inconsolable. All her efforts, all her dreams, any hope of becoming a princess is destroyed.

The other day a friend and I were talking. She mentioned how Cinderella had made her think about what it means to be God’s princess.

“Remember how she dressed up and tried to make herself look like a princess?” She asked. “But her step-sisters tore her gown and left her in rags. I think we do that do, too.

“We try to be a princess by putting on good works and yet our efforts never succeed. Just like it took a prince to make Cinderella a princess, it takes our prince, Jesus, to make us one.”

I’ve lived like Cinderella. I’ve tried to put on whatever things make me look like a princess. Good deeds, success, a style to fit my cultural box, and many other behaviors have covered me like a ball gown.

But, in the end, they were really just rags. I was left standing outside the ballroom, my efforts shredded and hanging from me like rags.

Nothing I do makes me a princess. There is only one way I can become royal. I must accept the hand of the prince.

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November 14, 2005 —

Addy

“You will be a crown of splendor in the LORD’s hand, a royal diadem in the hand of your God.” Isaiah 62:3 (NIV)

Curling up in the recliner and reading the American Girl’s books was a favorite pastime for my daughter and me when she was younger. There’s a poignant scene from one of the Addy books that I will always treasure.

Addy was a slave girl in the Civil War era. When her father and brother were sold away from them, Addy and her mom decided it was time to escape slavery. They ran away, seeking freedom.

One night as they hid together in a cave, Addy’s mother pulled out a treasure she’d saved for many years. It was a cowrie shell that Addy’s great-grandmother had worn on a string when she was stolen from Africa.

Addy’s mother gave the shell to her with these words: “Your great-grandma’s name was Aduke. That name got a meaning where she come from. It means ‘much loved’. I saved her name for you, Addy.”

Then Addy’s mother put the shell on an old shoelace that had once belonged to Addy’s brother. “Remember what I told you about the love you need to carry in your heart. It ain’t nothing you can touch like this shell, but when you find yourself feeling sad or scared, you dip into that love, Addy. It’s a well with no bottom and it can give you the strength and courage you need.”

What Addy’s mother gave her in that cave was an identity: Addy the treasured one, much loved.

Addy was her mother’s princess.

Being a writer, I often embellish the stories I read. I imagine details into the character’s life that may or may not have been intended by the original author. I’ve done this with Great-grandmother Aduke.

I imagine her as a beautiful African princess and the cowrie shell a symbol of her status. I see her standing tall and proud as she is about to be forced onto the ship that will carry her into slavery. Her chin high she gazes at her homeland, etching the flora and fauna, the lay of her land, into her memory to guard forever. The wind flows through her hair and she take a deep, filling breath, determined to always remember where she came from.

In my story, she hides away her precious shell, keeping it far from the eyes of those who enslave her. Refusing to let their distain and misunderstanding take the identity rightfully hers, she keeps this secret close to her heart. She is Aduke. African Princess. Much loved of her father, the king.

As she ages, living in a far away land, working for others with no hope of bettering her own circumstances, she whispers stories to her children, then her grandchildren, telling them of their true identity. Sure, they may be living as slaves, but deep inside where it counts they are royal—beloved descendents of a proud and good king.

For four generations the family protects the shell and its secret. They plant the truth deep in their hearts and it nurtures them. They are descendents of Aduke, the beloved. They are royal.

And finally, years later, Adukes’ granddaughter has both the courage and the provision to escape the lie. She and her mother slip away from the cruel master who would crush forever their true identity. They choose freedom.

Friend, have you chosen freedom today? Are you living in joyous acceptance of your identity as a child of the King? Or do you let the labels others have given you keep you from it? We all have struggles in life, but our circumstances don’t dictate who we are.

You are Aduke. Princess. Much loved of the King. Dip deeply into that well of love. Let it give you the courage and hope you need.

Father, help me take off the slave clothes, the lies that trap me in the old life of bondage and degradation. Help me instead to reach for the hand of the prince and claim my rightful position in the family.

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November 21, 2005 —

Little Princesses

Our young pastor has three adorable little girls. The older two are big enough to choose their clothes for the day. More than once they’ve shown up to church in fancy, sparkling shoes and glittering tiaras. The look every bit the princesses they are.

I think they are so used to us smiling at them and enjoying their shining personalities that they hardly notice how we watch them. They go about living in their little princess world, accepting the admiration they receive as a normal part of life.

They’re used to being royal. They prance and twirl and giggle, scampering after life, never expecting rejection, just living as daughters who are loved.

Our pastor’s told a few stories that prove his daughters aren’t always as angelic as they seem at church. But, I’ve never once sensed that his love for them was diminished by those imperfections.

Instead they seem to make him all the more committed to their well-being. Those little girls are loved with abandon. And it shows in their twinkling eyes and quick smiles. They KNOW they are royalty. They are their daddy’s princesses.

When did we lose that—the complete confidence that we are our Father’s princess? Shouldn’t we mature into our royal status, growing in grace and wisdom, confident in who we are?

Instead, too many of us pack away our tiaras and decide our royal gowns don’t fit. We let the stain of the world; the rejection of others; our own inadequacies and failures strip us of our true identity. Instead of seeing a princess in the mirror we see a flawed woman. Instead of feeling beautiful and treasured, we feel frumpy and overlooked.

Like my pastor’s daughters, I used to dress-up and dance about the house in my mom’s old prom dresses. And I’ve owned more than one tiara in my life. But, as an adult, I packed away my crown. My failures and inadequacies made me feel unworthy to be royalty.

As a young mother, I let sleepless nights, baby weight, and spit-up on my shirts convince me I was unattractive. And I had a hard time believing the Prince or His Father, the King, could truly treasure me. I just let them down too often. Sometimes I was so wrapped up in being their servant that I forgot I was part of the family.

When did you lay down your tiara?

Why?

Mine was misplaced because I didn’t understand my true identity. Somehow I thought I had to earn the right to wear that crown. I didn’t know it was placed on my head due to no effort of my own, but just because the Prince wanted me to have it.

I’m wearing my tiara these days. I finally figured out that God sees it on me whether I’ve hidden it in the closet or shined it and placed it on my head. My status doesn’t change because of my failings or my disappointments. To Him, I’m always a princess.

So are you.

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November 28, 2005 —

All Things Glittery

^“Who redeems your life from the pit and corruption, Who beautifies, dignifies, and crowns you with loving-kindness and tender mercy;” Psalm 103:4 (AMP)

My husband spent the first 40 years of his life as a bachelor. His was a sterile world, devoid of most anything soft, pretty, colorful, or sparkly. The walls of his home boasted no paintings; the most exciting decoration in his living room was a pile of old newspapers.

Having no woman in Jerry’s life to challenge his cerebral approach to things, there wasn’t much room in his world for bright, glittery, colorful things.

My husband stretched a good deal once he met me. But when our daughter was born, he was undone. Jerry picked her name, Sarah, which means princess. He couldn’t give enough to his little girl. He toted her around, told her he loved her, and called her sweetheart. As she’s grown into a teenager, he’s even learned to put up with lots of girly stuff—sparkly, glittery, Sarah kinds of things.

For Sarah’s tenth birthday Jerry even bought her a white shirt with princess written across the front in silver, shimmering letters. His sister happened to be visiting and commented, “I never thought I’d see my brother buy something like that!”

We all had a good laugh. My left-brained, black and white, philosophical husband had been conquered by one little girl: his princess. Jerry couldn’t help it. All those austere years as a confirmed bachelor couldn’t compete with the bright green eyes, teasing laugh, and sweet hugs of his Sarah.

Jerry and I have done our best to convince Sarah that she is our princess. We want her to feel adored and cherished. Yet, we haven’t done a perfect job and I already see the world trying to take this truth from her.

I hope as our daughter grows into womanhood that she never forgets she is a daughter who is deeply delighted in. I pray she always knows she is her daddy’s princess. And I ask the Lord to someday bless her with a husband who will affirm this in her, not tear it down.

I know as parents we can give Sarah a good start on her identity, but there is only One who can see she has it for keeps.

Sarah’s Heavenly Father has gone even farther than Jerry has to bestow this upon her. His sacrifices on her behalf include the entering the fallen world, receiving its rejection, and dying a cruel death on the cross. From that sacrifice comes something precious that cannot be taken away: Sarah’s position as beloved daughter of the King of the Universe.

He purchased this identity for you, too.

God bestows upon his daughters more than a t-shirt with a title etched across the front. He crowns her with His compassion and lovingkindness. The Bible says He beautifies and dignifies her and invites her to spend eternity with Him, living as royalty in a kingdom that never ends.

All she has to do is receive it.

Won’t you?

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