Royalty

 So there I was, skimming some ads on a social media site, hovering momentarily at one link before jumping to another. Then another. Just passing time while Nancy made dinner. And then I happened on an ad from an ancestry site: Do You Come from Royal Blood?

I know enough of my ancestry to know my progenitors eked out meager lives in Jewish shtetls across parts of Europe. But as quickly as I dismissed the idea of any royal blood in my past, the thought evaporated with a second:

“Of course I come from Royal Blood! My Father is the King of kings. He is the Lord of lords. And He adopted me into His family and made me His son when He purchased me with His own Royal blood.”

I nearly shouted out loud at the realization.

Some find great personal value – even personal worth – knowing their blood line flows backward to earthly kings or queens or princes or dukes. I think it sad that some people find personal worth in an ancestry of aristocracy – many of whose royal bones by now have turned to dust.

It's sad because the King of the universe invites anyone of any race, class, rank, or stature to become part of His royal blood line – and to find their value, their self-worth in things which will never turn to dust; things of eternal substance.

All one needs to do is bow at the foot of the cross and say to Jesus – “I am Thine, O Lord. I have heard Thy voice. Please consecrate me to Thy service, Lord, and make my will to be lost in Thine.”