Exchange Rate

I get a cold and rainy January day, you get yet another blog post.  

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.” 
― C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

Sometimes I tune into the TV show Extreme Makeover. The looks on their faces right after they start to move the bus is enough to get me to stay tuned in until they've televised and traversed through every inch of the new house.

My dad is a king, and since I'm his daughter I live in the palace.  

My father, the king,  is good and kind, all the time.  When I walk through the halls, I feel warm and safe.  I feel like a princess. He is forever trying to get the point across to me that I am worthy of his love.  He imparts faith to me on a daily basis.  He  tells me how great I am.  He prepares feasts and is constanlty remodeling my rooms. He doesn't let me believe the lies and He longs for me to sit down by the fireside and learn of his ways and worship him. 

My father the king, hosts an extreme makeover every day.

His exchange program, is the likes of which I can't even begin to understand or fathom.  He takes my garbage and leaves me a banquet.  He wants to exchange my fear for faith. He wants to take my sickness and give me health. He wants my messed up check-book for financial freedom. He wants my lonliness in exchange for a relationship. He takes the curse and gives the blessings. He offers joy for sadness and peace for worry.

My father, the king, has new surprises for me every morning.   The price has been paid.  He bought me over 2000 years ago. He cared and loved me enough to send his son to take the punishment for me.  What can I do, but follow his lead and put on the robes of kindness, gentleness, love, faith, mercy and grace. I must not walk around with my head down.  I refuse to mope or complain. I won't worry or whine.  I can't, because my father, the king, has adopted me into his family. I'm the daughter of a King. I live in a palace.

Without fail, and absolutely WHENEVER I see a picture of Prince William and Princess Catherine, I think royalty!  They dress like Royals, they act like Royals, they smile like Royals, and they even wave like Royalty. 

So excuse me if I sound like a princess, but it's time to start living like royalty.

But You, O LORD, are a shield for me,
         My glory and the lifter of my head. Psalm 3:3

 Lift up your heads, you gates; 
   lift them up, you ancient doors, 
   that the King of glory may come in. 
 Who is this King of glory? 
   The LORD Almighty— 
   he is the King of glory. Psalm 24:7-10

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