If Children, Then Heirs

I can’t speak for the gentlemen, but most women you’ll meet will admit to have wished at least once in their life that they were royalty. It’s not uncommon for a little girl to want to be a princess. She’ll act like a princess and loved ones will treat her like a princess, often telling her that—in their eyes, at least—she is a princess. Then the adults will walk away smiling at the child’s naivety.

But in the midst of the roleplaying, it would be naïve of us not to consider that the reason we desire a regal title so much is because we actually deserve one.

We may not have the epaulettes, tiaras, and sashes to go with it, but attire has little to do with our royal responsibilities. Recalling the wardrobe of our most beloved Prince is evidence enough. I can’t imagine Him, after a long day of preaching and performing miracles, hanging up a variety of golden, silken vestures in His closet (as finely crafted as I’m sure that was).

Look at what He accomplished.

As adopted sons and daughters of the One, True King, it’s surprising that our royal titles aren’t more frequently recognized. The first time I was told I was a princess—the authentic kind, not the Disney kind—was in attendance at the 2013 Steubenville West Conference in Tucson, Arizona. I was seventeen years old when Catholic Speaker Leah Darrow said emphatically to an auditorium full of high school girls that “[God] is my King, I am His daughter, and if He’s my King, and if He’s my Dad, I am a princess.”

It makes sense when you think of it that way, yet we tend to convince ourselves that such notions are preposterous. Why make fools of ourselves, proposing that we belong to a royal family, when in this twenty-first century of ours it’s more popular to adopt a political title, or a doctoral one? To combat this question too often posed by society, we can always echo Pope Saint John Paul II’s observation, that “the truth is not always the same as the majority decision.”

However unpopular it may be, the truth, we know, is worth defending. Saint Thomas Aquinas believes, “As a matter of honor, one man owes it to another to manifest the truth.” Part of manifesting the truth involves taking our place in the royal family tree during Baptism. Our Prince desires us to remain in Him as He remains in us, inviting us to count ourselves among the well-pruned branches of the “true vine” (John 15:4).

“Amen, amen,” He says to us, “no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit” (John 3:5). This warning appears earlier in John’s Gospel and promises us two things: first, Jesus wants us to become His princes and princesses, and second, He’s giving us instructions on how to do it.

If we still find it difficult to attach the title “Prince” or “Princess” to our names, further persuasion is offered by Saint Paul, who expands on the first Sacrament of Initiation. His comforting Letter to the Romans celebrates what It offers each of us:

“Are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were indeed buried with him through baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life. For if we have grown into union with him through a death like his, we shall also be united with him in the resurrection” (Romans 6:3-5).

According to Paul, not only are we called to join the royal family through Baptismal birth, but also to later enter the Kingdom and take our rightful place through Baptismal death. Jesus invites us to prepare for taking our seat in the Heavenly Kingdom, the same One that He opened up to us when He opened up His arms on the Cross.

How, then, must we prepare? How do we continue to fulfill our role after becoming members of God’s family during Baptism?

Luckily, we were given additional advice by our predecessors. They remind us that, like any respectable prince or princess, we’re expected to defend, expand, and fortify our Kingdom. Take a look at any saint’s life and you’ll see that he or she has done at least one of these things.

Saint Peter did all three. He went from living a simple fisherman’s life; to denying any relations with his best Friend, the Prince of Peace Himself; to leading and converting early church followers entrusted to him by that very Prince; to building up the Church after becoming Her rock; and finally, to giving up his life for Her on a cross.

Sounds awfully princely to me.

That’s not to say we should all begin striving to perform the same duties of our first pontiff. Every prince and princess is subjected to the unique circumstances and environments in which God placed him or her. But that’s not to say we’re free to take a back seat on protecting the Kingdom we will inherit, knowing that other saints have already done such a good job at it. Our older brothers and sisters in Christ have run the race well, leaving us some pretty big Nikes to fill in the process (1 Corinthians 9:24).

You’ll never hear of a prince or princess in short supply of adversity, but you’ll always hear of his or her duty to overcome it. Our parents may have signed us up during Infant Baptism (think Prince William), or we may have sought the title ourselves in Adult Baptism (think Kate Middleton); either way, we’ve all inherited the same responsibilities, and must remain confident that we will inherit the same Kingdom after completing them.

In any kingdom, princes and princesses are expected to honor their king and his wishes. This is perhaps the greatest expectation of any royalty, and princes and princesses of Christ are no exception. As such, we must constantly remind ourselves to proclaim as Saints Paul and Barnabas did in Lystra, “Not to us, Lord, not to us but to your name give glory” (Psalm 115:1).

It is worth mentioning that these two men also happened to recognize that “It is necessary for us to undergo many hardships to enter the kingdom of God” (Acts 14:22). Aha, so it all comes full circle.

The best part of being a prince or princess of God is rejoicing in your ability to serve His—and your—Kingdom. It’s certainly no fairytale, but the mantle isn’t without its rewards. Jesus cautioned us that, “In the world you will have trouble,” yet in the same sentence, assured us, “take courage, I have conquered the world” (John 16:33).

The world may have previously convinced us otherwise, but it is well within our responsibility to take courage and begin acting like the princes and princesses we were called to be.

Then we can work on dressing like ones.