Today, I want to share a parable with you by Soren Kierkegaard titled, “The King and His Maiden.” I think it will bless your heart.
Suppose there was a king who loved a humble maiden. The king was like no other king. Every statesman trembled before his power. No one dared breathe a word against him, for he had the strength to crush all opponents.
And yet this mighty king was melted by love for a humble maiden who lived in a poor village in his kingdom. How could he declare his love for her? In an odd sort of way, his kingliness tied his hands. If he brought her to the palace and crowned her head with jewels and clothed her body in royal robes, she would surely not resist—no one dared resist him. But would she love him?
She would say she loved him, of course, but would she truly? Or would she live with him in fear, nursing a private grief for the life she had left behind? Would she be happy at his side? How could he know for sure? If he rode to her forest cottage in his royal carriage, with an armed escort waving bright banners, that too would overwhelm her. He did not want a cringing subject. He wanted a lover, an equal. He wanted her to forget that he was a king and she a humble maiden and to let shared love cross the gulf between them. For it is only in love that the unequal can be made equal.
The king, convinced he could not elevate the maiden without crushing her freedom, resolved to descend to her. Clothed as a beggar, he approached her cottage with a worn cloak fluttering loose about him. This was not just a disguise—the king took on a totally new identity—he had renounced his throne to declare his love and to win hers.
And yet this mighty king was melted by love for a humble maiden who lived in a poor village in his kingdom. How could he declare his love for her? In an odd sort of way, his kingliness tied his hands. If he brought her to the palace and crowned her head with jewels and clothed her body in royal robes, she would surely not resist—no one dared resist him. But would she love him?
She would say she loved him, of course, but would she truly? Or would she live with him in fear, nursing a private grief for the life she had left behind? Would she be happy at his side? How could he know for sure? If he rode to her forest cottage in his royal carriage, with an armed escort waving bright banners, that too would overwhelm her. He did not want a cringing subject. He wanted a lover, an equal. He wanted her to forget that he was a king and she a humble maiden and to let shared love cross the gulf between them. For it is only in love that the unequal can be made equal.
The king, convinced he could not elevate the maiden without crushing her freedom, resolved to descend to her. Clothed as a beggar, he approached her cottage with a worn cloak fluttering loose about him. This was not just a disguise—the king took on a totally new identity—he had renounced his throne to declare his love and to win hers.
This parable is such a beautiful reflection of how King Jesus has pursued your heart…has pursued mine. Paul described it this way:
[Jesus] who, being in very nature God,
Did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
But made himself nothing,
Taking the very nature of a servant,
Being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
He humbled himself
And became obedient to death –
Even death on a cross!
Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
And gave him the name that is above every name,
That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
In heaven and on earth and under the earth,
And every tongue confess that
Jesus Christ is Lord,
To the glory of God the Father (Philippians 2:6-11)
Did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
But made himself nothing,
Taking the very nature of a servant,
Being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
He humbled himself
And became obedient to death –
Even death on a cross!
Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
And gave him the name that is above every name,
That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
In heaven and on earth and under the earth,
And every tongue confess that
Jesus Christ is Lord,
To the glory of God the Father (Philippians 2:6-11)
Why would God do such a thing? Because He loves you and longs to have an intimate, personal relationship with you. It was a high price to pay, but Jesus knew you were worth it.
The entire Bible from Genesis 3 to Revelation 22:21 is a record of God’s passionate pursuit of the human heart. We end the last chapter of the Old Testament with silence. And then 400 years later, God breaks the holy hush with the cry of a babe in a manger as the story picks back up in Bethlehem.
From God’s first question, “Where are you?” until Jesus’ final words, “It is finished,” we see God drawing mankind with cords of kindness that sometimes appear anything but kind—drawing people back to Himself with ties of love (Hosea 11:4). We’ve wiggled and wrangled trying to break free of those cords, but He continues to lasso us with love and draw us in again.
Passionate pursuit. He’s pulled out all the stops. Moved heaven and earth—literally—to win us back, to reestablish the glory that was lost in the Garden. As Tozer said, “The whole work of God in redemption is to undo the tragic effects of that foul revolt, and to bring us back again into right and eternal relationship with Himself.”
Most of us feel that we have to pursue God continually, as if He is hard to find. And as long as we believe that, our faith journey will be difficult. But didn't Jesus say, “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30)? God always makes the first move! :) #TrueLove
