The Lost Prince...

On Sunday evening, we enjoyed a praise service led by Robin Mark from Ireland. I was really blessed by all the words from the songs he led, most of them taken straight from the Psalms. When he introduced his band members, I was blown away by the story he told of the drummer in his band. I found another person's record of it here, and I chose to share her words here because it is such a good story, and has many spiritual lessons in it. We were lost princes and princesses, too and the King found us and claimed us for His own as well. I hope you enjoy this story like I did:

"While introducing his band, Robin Mark arrived at his drummer and with a smile this Irishman told us he would keep the story short; ha. Keeping stories brief is not the strong suit of any of my relatives. I knew we were in for a good one. This is how he introduced his drummer...

(Side note - if any incorrect details are apparent, please post a comment with the correction. I only heard this tale once, but some stories simply must be repeated at the risk of some minor occurances of misinformation.) 

In the 1960's, a young man came from Nigeria to study in Belfast. 

While there, he fell in love with an Irish woman. 

After a while the young woman became pregnant, 

and when word of this soon-to-be grandchild found it's way to Nigeria,

 the young man's father collected his son, 

bringing him home in shame. 

Letter after letter was sent from the young man to the mama-to-be,

 who ripped up each one without examination. 

As such, the young woman remained ignorant of the truth

 about the child's father, 

why he left and of the blood ran in the veins 

of the child she was carrying.

32 years later, no longer a child, 

Nicky decided it was high time he spoke to his father.

 After a few security hoops,

 the phone was finally connected 

to the right office in London,

"Hello? Who is this?"

"This is Nicky McWilliams."

"..." ... "I've been waiting on this call for 32 years."

Unbeknownst to him,

 a young man born and raised in Belfast, Northern Ireland, 

Nicky was the son of a Nigerian Tribal King. 

His father now occupied the throne. 

Nicky was by rights, a Nigerian Prince. 

Soon after, Nicky was flown to Nigeria to meet his family

 and to be a part of an adoption ceremony

 (in which he had to dance - Mr. Mark says he saw a video of this 

and has to testify that his drumming abilities 

come from the African connection, 

but his dancing legs have Belfast written all over them).

At a banquet held for the extended royal family 

while Nicky was visiting, his father, the King, stood up.

 "For the past 32 years, at every banquet held for this family,

 a portion of meat has been set aside, for the long-lost prince. 

Today, we do not need to set a piece aside. 

My son, finally, is here."

Mr. Mark then motioned to his drummer and requested of the audience, 

"Would you now all join me in welcoming to the stage, 

PRINCE Nicky McWilliams!"

I love this. 

The man didn't become a prince at the moment of realization

 at the age of 32. Although he had not been aware, 

he had been a prince his whole life. His surroundings,

 his paycheck, his up-bringing, his circumstances, 

his fame, or lack-thereof, 

did not take away from the truth 

of who he really was. 

What an illustration!"

(I understand from what I heard on Sunday that

the mama-to-be threw away the letters without

reading them because she felt that her child's father

had abandoned them and she did not understand

why he had left so suddenly and without warning).

I was so blessed to hear this story

and to think about it that

I am royalty. I have been royalty

even when I was eating the

husks from the pigs' food.

I am redeemed royalty now.

The King of Heaven is my Lord,

and I am so blessed to be His daughter,

and to serve Him with my life.

He is more than anyone or anything

could ever be in this world or in the next.

Hallelujah!