The Hunt for a Prince

I’m going to throw out titles like I Kissed Dating Goodbye and Captivating to start this particular blog post off with this sentence: Two years ago I went on the hunt for a prince.  We were putting on a play with an evil duke, a warm princess, and a Golux.  We had all those.  But we were missing a prince.  I only needed one.  Just one single solitary prince.  Surely, he couldn’t be that hard to find.  Surely, they make those still in Nebraska . . . Three yes’s turned to no’s later, I wasn’t so sure.  On performance day, we ended up with a girl playing the part of the prince in place of an actual guy.

She did a great job.

But it wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind.

You’d think I would have learned my lesson.  Don’t look for princes in Nebraska.  Try California or Russia maybe.  Only traipse through the cornfields if you’re casting parts for “Gone with the Wind.”

Apparently, I like tackling impossible situations.

Several weeks ago, I mentioned something about a musical drama called The Thorn Princess.  You may have seen a cast photo on facebook.  You may have heard the noise from the E-Free church where we’re currently holding practices.  We may even have knocked on your door.  But what I didn’t tell you is that I was going on the hunt for princes again.  Only this time I needed five.

(If you haven’t visited Nebraska recently, you should know that asking for five princes here is like asking for five cows in downtown New York City.)

Watch out for cows next time you visit New York.

I’ve got my five princes.  Through threats, extortion, bribery, and getting down on my knees. (I only did that once . . . Okay, not really.) But that’s not all I got.  I’ve also found three very wise women, a handful of ruffians, a couple street kids, and a Witch of What.

Who knew such jewels existed hidden amongst hundred-year-old farm houses?  Who knew you could find talent like this so far from Broadway?  It’s like a treasure hunt involving facebook stalking, free pizza, a couple school teachers, and endless rows of corn.  I’m pretty proud of my cast.

I’m not quite sure what they think of me.

I tell jokes sometimes that nobody laughs at.

I’d like to introduce you to the cast of The Thorn Princess.  I’d like you to know their names and see what it’s like when they take the stage.  I want you to see what happens when God is in charge of a play performance.

. . . Unfortunately, you’re going to have to wait till November to actually see most of that.  In the meantime, you’re welcome to join us and pray.  We don’t want the spotlight on us.  We want it on Him.

Unofficially

I’m three weeks into directing my fourth theatrical performance.  I think I might finally be getting the hang of this.

Unofficially.

My life hasn’t been very official yet.  I can make it sound like it has been, if I try hard enough.  But, really, I’ve been ducking under quite a bit of red tape for the last three decades.  Teaching in a classroom without a college degree.  Running Quickbooks without taking a single finance class.  Directing plays without having studied . . . well, anything, really.  The only opera I know is “Phantom of the Opera.” (. . . Does that even count?)

Most of what I’ve done the last ten years, I wasn’t qualified to do.  No training, no diploma, no title.

Thankfully, God doesn’t seem to care.

Thankfully, the cast we’ve gotten together to fill all the roles in The Thorn Princess doesn’t seem to care either.

(. . . Although it might be best if you don’t tell them I have no real training for this.)

We practiced just last night.  Complete with Cockney accents, flailing canes, and a flying cardboard box or two.  Apparently, our rehearsals are a little dangerous.

But it’s not just the I-can-tell-you-to-say-that-line-again-for-the-fifth-time-because-I’m-the-director role that I love.  I also love that when I watch our cast rehearse, I see brilliant possibilities.  I see a play that would look good on Broadway.  I see a backdrop that’s going to drop jaws.  I see a cast that could stand unabashed with Sean Connery.

. . . Well, maybe.

I see a God who has a place for an unofficial Bohemian like me.  Without the title.  Without the degree.  Without the training.

“But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong . . . so that no one may boast before Him.” (I Corinthians 1:27,29)

And then it goes on to say, “Therefore, as it is written: “ ‘Let him who boasts boast in the Lord.’ ”

Death and God

If you’re in Nebraska, you’ve probably heard at least a little bit about the Blue Hill tragedy.  A bus taking kids home after school collided with a semi-truck carrying hay.  It affected some very good friends of mine in the area.

As Christians, how do we respond?  What happens in our hearts?  What happens to our prayers?  How do we approach a God who, being omnipotent, held the power in His hand to stop this from ever happening?

“Day and night they never stop saying: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was, and is, and is to come.’ ” (Revelation 4:8)

It happened after school on Wednesday.  The bus was on a gravel road bordering cornfields when it collided with a semi-truck.  Both drivers were killed.

“He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them close to His heart.” (Isaiah 40:11)

The bus burst into flames.  All passengers on the bus were trapped inside.

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are Mine.  When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.  When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.” (Isaiah 43:1,2)

Two farmers working in a nearby field saw the flames.  They rushed to the scene, pulling several kids from the burning bus.  But they couldn’t get them all.  Two of the children inside the bus died.

“Where, O death, is your victory?  Where, O death, is your sting?  The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law.  But thanks be to God!  He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” (I Corinthians 15:55-57)

I don’t know how the parents of those children were told.  I don’t know when the rest of the school heard the news.  I don’t know what they told the students.  I don’t know how the kids on the bus who survived felt.

“At this, Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head.  Then he fell to the ground in worship and said: ‘. . . The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.’ ” (Job 1:21)

How do we live in this tension between the heart-wrenching shocks of reality and the truths of God’s Word?  Do we turn a blind eye to one?  Do we forget the other?  How could a holy, just, loving God possibly let innocent children die?  Did He stop being holy for just one second there?  In that instant, was He not love?  Did His justice falter?  Did He blink at the wrong time?

Where is God when a 10-year old girl is trapped in a bus that’s on fire?

“But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed.” (Isaiah 53:5)

Where is God when the child dies?

“Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Trust in God; trust also in Me.  In My Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you.  I am going there to prepare a place for you.” (John 14:1,2)

Go stand in the throne room of Heaven.  Throw yourself at the feet of the King of kings.  You will hear a far different story than the one printed in the newspapers.  Does it mean answers for all the questions?  No.  Do we still mourn for the families and friends involved?  Yes.  But there is a much larger story than the one we hear with our ears and see with our eyes.

“BE STILL AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD.”