(Here is the rough draft of the forward/first chapter of my book.  It is the backdrop and illustration that I will refer to throughout the book about our growing and deepening intimacy with God.  Would love feedback…is the correlation clear?)

Once upon a time, in a land not so very far away, there lived a King.  He was a kind and good King.  A generous and just King. He ruled His kingdom fairly and with great love for the people who lived in and outside the kingdom.

One morning, before the sun had come up over the horizon, as he stood on his balcony, he heard a faint cry in the distance.  The sound of someone in trouble.  A damsel in distress. His heart went out to her.  He called out to her to tell her that he would rescue her and that she would be alright.  But though the crying ceased when he spoke, she did not respond to his offers for rescue and relief.

The King’s heart grieved for her.  Every day, the same scenario would play out.  She would cry.  He would call.  He would offer help.  She would become silent, unresponsive.   And the king would leave his balcony once again, broken hearted, longing to save the girl.

Now the King, good and just and merciful, was also wise.  He understood that this girl was most likely silenced by shame, by a sense of unworthiness.  Intimidated by the King’s majestic stature, in her humble peasant state.  No doubt she was fearful of him and of his response to her. Such things stood in the way of her rescue.  And so he devised a plan to reach her…

The King had a son.  The Prince.  He was a good young man who reflected all of his father’s qualities and character.  And it would be this son that would carry out the King’s plan.

After full disclosure and lengthy conversation, father and son were ready to carry out their strategy to bring this girl to safety. Removing his crown,  the Prince took off all of his royal wardrobe, dressing instead as a commoner.  He would be unrecognizable as royalty and thus, would more likely be able to approach the girl in her helpless state.

As the Prince and King went to the balcony they listened for the daily cry of distress from the girl.  As if on cue, the faint sound of painful whimpering once again floated through the air to the ears of the King and his son.  The cry that at the same time warmed and pierced their hearts.  But instead of answering with His call of help, the King turned to his son with tears in his eyes and said, “It is time.  Go find the girl.”  And after an extended embrace and the sound of a hurting soul still ringing in his ears, the Prince headed out.  Not with a crown or a robe or  a white horse, but as a mere man on foot with a mission to save.

As he left the grand doors of the castle, the once muffled, distant cry became clearer and more distinct.  It was a cry of pain and desperation.  Of torment and fear.  As he got closer to its source the lump that grew in his throat gave way to tears.  This was, indeed a damsel in distress.  Up ahead he saw where her cries came from.  A rundown shack. As he drew nearer the stench of filth filled the air.  The cries more pathetic and heart-wrenching than ever.

He entered the makeshift dwelling and saw her.  She was gagged and tied to a chair by her hands and feet.  She was dirty, her clothes tattered.  And as he made his way toward her through the rubble, he noticed the fear in her eyes when she saw him. The same cry he had heard from the castle escaped through her gagged mouth and fell as tears on her stained cheeks.  She wrestled to free herself from her bondage, but to no avail.  Clearly, those who approached her before had not been there to help her, but to hurt her, to enslave her and hold her captive.  And as he turned, he saw the source of her fear.

There in the corner was a man dressed in black from head to toe. A menacing and arrogant character. As the prince looked at him, he smiled a devious smile and let out a hideous, mocking laugh.  It was clear that he had this girl under his power and that she was helpless to stop what he was doing to her.  Slowly the man in black walked over to the girl, spit out curses and accusations at her, and then with the slightest touch of his hand, pushed her and the chair she was tied to, to the ground.

Though the girl did not recognize the Prince for who he was, the man in black did, and yet continued to abuse and humiliate the girl shamelessly in front of him. The girl looked at the prince, blood now dripping from her forehead, wondering if he would be the next to take his turn at her. But the Prince, overcome by the passion of anger and protection, brought back his fist, his nostrils flared, his eyes flaming.  He stormed over to the man in black and let him feel the fury of his wrath in a powerful blow.  The man scratched and clawed and bit and did his best to thwart the valiant efforts of the Prince. A bloody fight for the girl ensued, and at long last, a final blow to the head left the man in black on the floor.

Still bleeding, the prince went to the girl and loosened her bindings, dropping them to the floor.  He gently removed the gag from her mouth.  She breathed in deeply, as if for the first time.  As the man in black still struggled on the ground, dazed by the impact and hurt by the blow, the Prince picked up the girl and carried her out of the shambles.  And looking deeply and tenderly into her eyes, he whispered, “I am taking you to my father’s house”….

By the time they reached the castle, the girl was limp and nearly lifeless in his arms.   His father came out to greet them and welcome them home.  He took the girl from his son and carried her through the massive doors.  He laid her on a bed where nursemaids cared for her.  The poor girl was malnourished, dirty and in need of a good, hot bath.  They washed her, fed her and brought her new clothes.  Exhausted and hurting, the girl was barely aware of her surroundings and fell in and out of sleep.

The next day, the King came in to check on her.  As she lay sleeping, He sat with her on the bed and stroked her hair, so glad to have her safely in the castle.  His touch startled her and she woke with a jolt.  And the first thing she when she opened her eyes was more than she could believe.  She was in the presence of the King!  It was too much to comprehend.  She began to recall the events of the prior day.  Only a day ago, she had been trapped in a rubbish heap, tied down by a maniacal man whose daily habit was to abuse her.  A man had come and rescued her.  A man she now realized was the Prince. And now here she was, waking up in the house of the King. It made her head spin.  Her world had truly changed over night.

As the days went on, she went from feeling unworthy and shamed at the loving care that she was receiving, to feeling the deepest sense of gratitude to the King.  She learned to be able to look at him when he spoke to her.  She learned to trust his intentions toward her.  She began to value his wisdom and teaching in her life.  And when she went back to her old way of thinking or acting, she learned to accept his correction as loving and beneficial.

She knew the King loved her.  He told her daily.  He gave her everything she needed and lavished her with gifts that she could never have imagined.  He invited her to grand galas and introduced her to interesting and amazing people.  He fed her only the best food and took long walks with her in the palace gardens, overflowing with fragrant, beautiful, colorful flowers.  They would engage in meaningful conversations and he would impart his great knowledge to her.  He had, in fact, become her Father in every sense of the word.  She was now part of his family.  She finally knew the meaning of “home”.  She had become a daughter of the King in every sense of the word.

Years passed and the girl grew in stature and maturity.  She had, in fact, become a woman.  A woman who loved her Father and King and  who had devoted her life to pleasing him.  Her distant past now seemed just a faded memory and the shame and guilt that she once felt was now replaced with a true sense of worth and acceptance.  And it was in these years that she sensed a shift in her relationship with the King.  As their conversations deepened and as she understood more about the things he spoke of, she realized that she had something to offer him as well.  Her friendship.  Her ever more trusting heart that shared her fears and secrets and hopes and dreams. Exchanges that were reciprocal  – equal sharing and listening.  She enjoyed being with him and joining him in the daily duties of his kingdom.

And not just with him.  But with his son, the Prince, as well.  They would spend hours together, laughing, crying, talking and just reveling in each other’s company.  They had become  inseparable friends with a common goal. To  serve and love the people inside and outside the kingdom and to let it be known throughout the land, the love of a very good King. And as the days went on, this common bond drew her heart more closely to the Prince and to his heart.

As the friendship  with the King and Prince deepened, she found that she was not just approaching them for their advice and wisdom, but to know them better.  She wanted to be more like them in their character and love.  And the more time she spent with them, the more she seemed to carry the imprint of their  impact upon her.  The scars of her past seemed to be hidden by the beauty of the essence that their  influence brought out in her.  She began to see herself not only as a rescued subject and cherished daughter, but as a valued friend.

Years passed and the girl grew in grace, beauty and wisdom.  She laughed easily and loved well.  She rarely spent a moment without the King or the Prince.  She not only depended on them, but adored them.  She could not even remember her life without them.  She could not recall the day before the Prince rescued her from her certain doom.  They were her existence.  Her life.  Her love.

One day in the midst of normal kingdom occurrences and protocol, the King called the girl into His chambers.  She gladly came, certain that he had some task for her to perform or some event to attend.  But as she entered the room, she saw a smile on his face like she had never seen before. The Prince stood there grinning next to him.  As if the King had a most wonderful gift to give her.  But he had given her so many gifts already.  He had, in essence, given her the entire kingdom.  What could he possibly have left to give?

He called her to his side.  And there in the quietest and most intimate of moments, He took her hand in his own.  After once again declaring his endless love for her, he took her hand and put it in the hand of the Prince.  The three of them had walked hand in hand many times before, but she had never experienced the depth of what she felt at that moment.  She looked down at the Prince’s hand.  Scars still marked his palms where the man in black had struck him in her rescue.  But beside the scars, she saw a mark she had noticed.  There inscribed in the center of his hands was her name.  HER name.  She could scarcely believe what she saw.  And before she could catch her breath, the Prince was down on one knee, asking for her hand and slipping a ring on her finger.

She gasped out a tearful “yes!” and fell into his waiting arms.  Her hero, her savior, her friend, was now asking her to be his Bride.  And her King was now, more than ever, her father. Love that began in the midst of shambles, had grown into a thing of beauty.  The lost girl had become a Princess.  And the girl lived deeply in love forever after….