This one time I met a Nigerian Prince... Seriously

Kyle and I slipped out last Friday evening to attend a Robin Mark concert at Lakeside Church in Guelph. The lovely wee man is from Belfast, Northern Ireland and has precisely the same accent as one half of my extended family. Although it was nearly a sold-out show in a room with a 1000 person capacity, I felt like I was in my Aunt May's living room with the McChesney/McShane connection. Hearing that accent makes me feel there's someone in the room who understands me. There are few feelings of comfort like it... I needed only a wee cuppa Earl Grey and a Rich Tea biscuit, and I would have been in my version of heaven.

The concert was lovely; an evening with my man, enjoying that familiar voice leading 1000 people in beautiful songs of praise. The highlight of the evening, however, was when I met a Nigerian Prince. Ok. I almost met him. Well, I was in the same room as him as he played a drum set. Stay with me.

While introducing his band, Robin Mark arrived at his drummer and with a smile this Irishman told us he would keep the story short; ha. Keeping stories brief is not the strong suit of any of my relatives. I knew we were in for a good one. This is how he introduced his drummer...

(Side note - if any incorrect details are apparent, please post a comment with the correction. I only heard this tale once, but some stories simply must be repeated at the risk of some minor occurances of misinformation.)

In the 1960's, a young man came from Nigeria to study in Belfast. While there, he fell in love with an Irish woman. After a while the young woman became pregnant, and when word of this soon-to-be grandchild found it's way to Nigeria, the young man's father collected his son, bringing him home in shame.

Letter after letter was sent from the young man to the mama-to-be, who ripped up each one without examination. As such, the young woman remained ignorant of the truth about the child's father, why he left and of the blood ran in the veins of the child she was carrying.

32 years later, no longer a child, Nicky decided it was high time he spoke to his father. After a few security hoops, the phone was finally connected to the right office in London,

"Hello? Who is this?"
"This is Nicky McWilliams."
"..." ... "I've been waiting on this call for 32 years."

Unbeknownst to him, a young man born and raised in Belfast, Northern Ireland, Nicky was the son of a Nigerian Tribal King. His father now occupied the throne. Nicky was by rights, a Nigerian Prince.

Soon after, Nicky was flown to Nigeria to meet his family and to be a part of an adoption ceremony (in which he had to dance - Mr. Mark says he saw a video of this and has to testify that his drumming abilities come from the African connection, but his dancing legs have Belfast written all over them).

At a banquet held for the extended royal family while Nicky was visiting, his father, the King, stood up. "For the past 32 years, at every banquet held for this family, a portion of meat has been set aside, for the long-lost prince. Today, we do not need to set a piece aside. My son, finally, is here."

Mr. Mark then motioned to his drummer and requested of the audience, "Would you now all join me in welcoming to the stage, PRINCE Nicky McWilliams!"

I love this. The man didn't become a prince at the moment of realization at the age of 32. Although he had not been aware, he had been a prince his whole life. His surroundings, his paycheck, his up-bringing, his circumstances, his fame, or lack-thereof, did not take away from the truth of who he really was.

What an illustration!

Hearing the tale of the Belfast-raised Nigerian Prince reminded me of another I heard years ago called "You Are Special" by Max Lucado. 

Punchinello, a wooden 'Wemmick' lives in a town where all day people go about covering each other with stars or dots. The most admired and celebrated Wemmicks had the most stars to display. Those who were teased, and insulted sported the most dots. Punchinello, was one of the latter. One day he meets someone unlike anyone he had seen before: a Wemmick with no stars or dots. When asked why she doesn't have any, she says they simply don't stick because every day she spends time with Eli the carpenter. After Punchinello works up the courage to visit Eli too, he starts to lose some dots when he dares to believe Eli when he is told, "you are special because I made you...". 

And, what a great reminder. If I was to strip away others' perceptions of who I am, my 'success' at my work, the size of my bank account, the measure of prestige I may enjoy placed on me by various positions, titles or degrees, I would still be a person of worth because I belong to and am loved by the Someone made me. Just like Prince Nicky McWilliams, the truth of who I am and my worth as a person remains regardless of my life's circumstances of who acknowledges it. 

Ephesians 2:10 says that we are God's handiwork, his masterpiece, created with a purpose in mind.  

Whether or not we feel like masterpieces, (honestly, many days I feel far from it), or worthy of being called "God's handiwork", that doesn't take away from it being true. 

You. Me. Masterpieces. Uniquely and lovingly created by God himself.

Incredible.