Remember your Heritage

I caught myself having to swallow a few tears the other day while sitting in the movie theatre, and I doubt that there was anyone else around who was so moved as I was at this point in the film I was watching, for to most, it would seem to be a rather detached, unrelatable moment, yet for me the imagery resonated deep within my soul.

Four children had just been swept away from the monotony of their everyday lives back into a magical world where they once had spent their entire lives… until, by the magic of the story, they were returned to their original world where only hours had passed. Upon their return to the magical world, these four children discovered that centuries had passed in this other kingdom: the castle that they had once ruled from now was a pile of decaying rubble, looking long forgotten. However, a hidden passageway in one of the remaining walls led them to a secret chamber, where these children had stored their prized treasures—gifts given to them from their sovereign, the creator of this magical world.
As I watched these four children walking to four separate chests, each with a marble statue of their former selves standing behind the individual boxes, I couldn't help but be reminded of the opening sequence of the film, where we were shown snippets of their "ordinary" lives. In one of these, we watch as the oldest of the four gets caught in a rough altercation with several other chaps, and after the scuffle ends, he remarks on how he hates being treated like a kid. "But we are kids," said one of his sisters, to which he replied, "Yes, but we weren't always."

Now the director's brilliance really shines through here, as the whole gambit of lighting, framing, picturisation and the rest of those toys at any good director's disposal come to impress the contrast of what they presently were—as children in England—with what they formerly had been: kings and queens of a glorious nation. As each opened their individual chest, a wave of remembrance churned through the characters (or at least in my experience/take of the film) when they became reacquainted with their treasures from a time that felt so long ago…

Yes, it was at this point—and a few others within the first 30 minutes of the film—that I had to fight back tears and swallow the hefty lump lodged in my throat. I was deeply moved, having been reminded of how these characters' situations were ever so much similar to mine (and possibly yours).

I am told that I am royalty, heir to the throne of Heaven—well, actually, co-heirs with the firstborn Prince of this kingdom called Creation. This firstborn prince and his Father decided to adopt me and vest in me the same authority as they have, insomuch as I remain or entwine myself in the character and presence of this supreme ruler. I am told that this King and his Son have brought their kingdom near to this world that we currently see, but that their kingdom is neither of this world nor fully made known yet. I am told that "for a little while" I'm to be living in this world as a foreigner, all the while trying to recruit others into citizenship in my adopted Father's kingdom—for all who are citizens acquire the rights, authority & privileges inherent to co-regency with the Firstborn.

Yet often I forget this. Often I get lulled into a sense of "that's a great idea or memory, but how much of it really effects my daily life?" Often I feel like this image of me being a prince of Creation is a nice thing or a good memory, and I shove it to the back of my brain because in this world, it really seems to not have much of a bearing on how things progress—much like the eldest child in the previously mentioned film, wishing that he were treated less like dirt in a kingdom that wasn't his. And often, I feel as if I act like the oldest sister, regarding the former kingdom as a thing gone by: a memory that makes her feel good, but one that really has little bearing on where she is right now.

Yet, as they open the chests, they remember their heritage. As each child lifts the lid on each of their treasure boxes, a recollection of who they are and what their true identity is floods back. They are not helpless, ordinary little people, trapped in a position where they can do nothing. They are kings and queens, endowed with gifts of power from their only Lord, the Creator of this magical land in which they sit as royalty.