By Martha Bush
On May 19, 2018, the world tuned in to watch on television as Meghan Markle arrived at Windsor Castle. All eyes were upon her as she walked down the aisle in St. George's Chapel to say, “I do” to Prince Harry.
Meghan was referred to as a commoner because she was not born into a royal family bloodline. Yet, on that day, Queen Elizabeth gave the bride and groom the ultimate wedding gift - brand new royal titles! From that day forward, Harry and Meghan would be known as the Duke and Duchess of Sussex.
It was a fairytale wedding - one that all little girls dream about. It took me back to my childhood when I played pretend games with my girlfriends. We often pictured ourselves in a faraway land where we would meet our prince charming and ride away in a carriage drawn by white horses just like Meghan. Oh, the imagination of a child!
Just for fun, take a stroll with me back into one of my fantasy lands once again.
Suppose you were standing outside the palace gates of a king. As you stood there, your attire looked something like this:
- You were clothed in filthy rags of self-pity, anger and resentment.
- It was plain to see that you always tried to borrow from others the kind of love you desperately needed.
- You rummaged through garbage pails looking for your identity.
- The life of a pauper was your lifestyle - you felt no worth at all.
As you stood outside the place gates in your filthy drab inside and out, you heard the king beckoning someone to come to him to be his bride. You look around to see who he is calling, but there is no one else standing at the gate at this time.
Then you hear him issue the call again. You look up to the window where he stands. Your eyes meet his gaze, and you say to him: “Are you talking to me? You can’t mean me-why I’m just a pauper. I’m not good enough for you. And my appearance, well, I am not the prettiest woman in the world. I wouldn’t be a very good helpmate either, because I am just so dumb like one of my teachers in school once told me. No, I can’t marry you; I’m just too unworthy to be your bride.”
Without another word spoken from the king, he stretched forth his hands beckoning you to come into his arms. This time, you caught a look of love on his face that you had never ever seen on another. It penetrated into the very depths of your heart, and you at last realized that, “Yes, he wants me!”
You accepted his proposal, and you were quickly ushered into the palace to say, “I do” to the king. He placed a crown on your head, and instantly, you were given a brand new title – Bride of the King.
Oh, my dear friends, this is no fairy tale, it is for real. It is a story about YOU and ME, and how quickly we transitioned from our pauper state into a place of royalty when we accepted Jesus Christ as Savior.
I will never forget the night I said, “I do,” to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.
My pastor had finished his sermon, and he extended the invitation to accept Jesus by saying: “There are three people here tonight who need Jesus.”
Before the words were barely out of his mouth, two people raised their hands. Then there was a deadly silence that swept over the congregation that seemed to last for all eternity.
“Somebody needs to speak up. Where is that third person,” I wondered, as I clung to the pew in front of me.
Then ever so gently, I could hear the Holy Spirit whisper to me: “The third person is you, Martha.”
No more rebelling and running for me, and I instantly said, “I do,” as the congregation and all heaven looked on.
And in that moment, my Lord (my husband) bestowed upon me, not one, but many brand new royal titles!
- Beautiful (Song of Solomon 1:15)
- Beloved (Deuteronomy 33:12)
- Chosen (Colossians 3:12)
- Favored (Psalm 84:11)
- Valued (Matthew 6:26)
- Victorious (1 Corinthians 15:57)
What about you?
Do you remember the day you said, “I do” to the King of Kings? I would love to read about your wedding story and the titles He has bestowed upon you in the comments. (Love names, if you please.)
Sometimes, we need to go back and reminisce the beauty and splendor of that day.