I took a ride with royalty once. No joke. I spent one day with an African Princess – the oldest child of the last Absolute King of Africa. The conditions of our acquaintance were both serendipitous and irrelevant, but nevertheless her driver picked me up that morning in royal wheels, and from Los Angeles to San Diego I wondered what it must have been like to grow up with royal blood running through one’s veins. The luxury. The popularity. The power. I learned a lot during my day with Her Majesty, The Princess. She was kind, cool, and suitably inquisitive. But more than anything she understood the authority she held by rights as a child of her father, The King. And I should not have been surprised that when she began praying to her Heavenly Father – His Majesty, King Jesus – she prayed with lion-like boldness. With reverence. And with awe.

At some moments her prayers were faith-laced love notes scribbled on whispers and wrapped in a million pounds of adoration. At other times her prayers became zeal-tipped tongue-lashings hurled like daggers at demons and at Satan himself to put the Foul Enemy in his place. And still at others a holy discontentment would rile up within her and she would become a child with a laundry list of audacious wishes she expected her Father to permit.

I prayed along with her in the backseat of her royal carriage, with half the zest, half the zeal, and a mountain of longing to know King Jesus like she seemed to. Between her gasps for air I began to wonder if a child of God was really allowed to be so bold. The minutes turned into hours and I also wondered if Christians were supposed to pray for so long… and why my prayer life was so different from the prayers of the Princess.

My day with Her Majesty reminded my forgetful heart that my Heavenly Father is a REAL King. THE real King. And if my Father is a King, then that changes the prayer-game. Moreover, the sovereign power wielded by my Good-King-Jesus is both furiously infinite and ravishingly intimate. He is a better King than any human mind could conjure up. With His inestimable supremacy He created a world in which His children would delight in Him. And when His royal children lost sight of their identity He employed that same power in an all-out pursuit to get them back. His goodness is as His power: ineffably immeasurable to the human mind and unspeakably delightful to the human heart.

When we know ourselves in light of our Good-King-Father we pray like Spartans fight: with joy, with anticipation, and with certainty. When your Dad is the King, you don’t walk around doubting your authority. You tell the driver to turn whichever way you please expectantly because the driver is in subjection to your Father and you are, after all, your Father’s child. You live with reckless and obedient abandon because Your Father is the only King with the keys to Death. You ask bold things of your Father because He’s got the power and the desire to level mountains through you. You have only to ask.

That night, as my head hit my pillow and I began talking to my Father, these words rolled off my tongue in a prayer for the first time “Your Majesty, King Jesus, it’s such a pleasure to belong to You…”

 

Writer’s Bio:
Kyle Donn is a faith-blogger and advocate for orphaned and destitute children with Children Of The Nations International. He and his wife, Brittany, love rock climbing and backpacking and currently reside in Bremerton, Washington, USA.   URL/Website: kyledonn.com