As you may have heard, I have been on the most particular look-out for a prince as of late. I say most particular because we have a short but precise list of qualifications that simply cannot be ignored. They are as follows: He must be taller than five foot nine. (Can’t be shorter than the princess, you know.) Able and willing to wear a purple robe, get down on one knee, appear to be quite smitten, and pick up a Golux. Harmonica skills are helpful. And he can’t be on drugs.
If you’ve read a certain previous blog, you will know that we are looking for this prince to fill a roll in a play. (Princes who would like to fill non-stage rolls, please apply elsewhere.) Actually, we had found one already, and he was doing just swimmingly.
Until he got on drugs.
They weren’t kidding when they told you they ruin people’s lives. On stage and off.
We now find ourselves, having captured one once, utterly princeless again. Our back-up (we like to keep one on the shelf, you might say) absconded for the military. For the two others we petitioned, one fled the state, and the other is plagued by nightmares. I’m not joking either.
So, here I am, sitting at my computer, typing up an advertisement that isn’t really an advertisement at all. For the lost young man in question is still a man, if not a prince, and drugs are involved (as well as other things as bad, if not worse), and that is not a thing to be laughed at.
So, even though we are rather in need of a thing with a couple legs and arms and vocal capacity (preferably in English) for what we do on stage, there is a life that is not the stage at all, although it sometimes feels like it, and the choices we make there resonate throughout all eternity. (And that wasn’t just melodrama.) And this young man who used to be a prince isn’t doing so well. And I know a God who rescues the broken and responds to the prayers of His children. And my question for you is, “Will His children pray?”
