I sat in my parent’s office that afternoon, working diligently to get my lesson planned for our next meeting. The girls in my discipleship group would be gathering that week and we were going to be talking about intercession. Part of the lesson was on how Jesus intercedes for us, but I wanted to focus on what it means to intercede for others—just as we’re called to do in Scripture.
As I looked up verses, and wrote down ideas, I was praying that the Lord would help me make this idea of standing in the gap for those around us, perfectly clear.
And then I saw this picture in my head of a girl, standing in a battlefield, pacing a section of land with her sword drawn.
So instead of writing a perfectly outlined lesson, I wrote a little story.
This story didn’t end up becoming anything more than a paper my discipleship girls were given—but the ideas in it of a Kingdom, and battling an enemy, and a King who redeems and saves his people—these things became something much bigger.
I wrote a collection of stories through the next few years. Stories of how slaves were transformed into warriors, of a King who serves his people, of a Kingdom where hope and healing could be found for the most broken of hearts.
But I’ve always had a special place in my heart for that first sketch of an unnamed warrior-girl who served the King wholeheartedly and battled for her friends and neighbors with relentless fervor.
I’m sure hearing prayer referred to as a “battle” isn’t new for many people—but for those who feel confused at the idea, one of the reasons I use it in my story telling is because our bodies are designed to survive, which means fighting is a natural instinct. In our world today, we so often turn that instinct into a war against each other. We fight our family. We fight our neighbors. We fight strangers on the internet.
But what if we could redirect that natural instinct for battle? What if we fought for each other instead? What if we were warriors who recognized that every person was beloved of God and no matter how fierce they seemed, they were the ones we are fighting for not against? What if prayer, instead of our tongues or our keyboards, was the thing we used to fight?
Daughters of the King was written for this very reason—to inspire the next generation to look at life more deeply. To see a bigger story happening than just what is posted online or gossiped about after church.
In celebration of Daughters of the King releasing, I’m sharing “The Story that Started it All”, better known as The Warrior-Girl.
This isn’t a direct reflection of the Daughters of the King stories, it’s just the sketch that sparked the idea of them. But hopefully it is encouraging just the same.
At the end of this post, you’ll find an option to download and/or print your own copy of this mini-parable. May it bless you abundantly.
She was young, with dark hair and pretty eyes. She didn’t look particularly powerful or strong, but she wielded a sword like no other. Very few people knew that she went to war, but almost daily she could be seen (if one knew where to look), walking toward the battle ground with her sword strapped to her side.
The enemy knew her well and cringed when he saw her moving into position. He tried everything to distract her.
He would send handsome travelers her way, hoping they would entice her away from the frontlines. But she would always smile and shake her head as she walked away. Away to the battlefield.
He would send friends who talked much, but not of anything important. They would chatter to her about the freedom they had to play instead of work. They invited her to leave her work behind as well, but she would kindly say no, the King was in need of her. Then away she went. Away to the battlefield.
The enemy would attack those closest to her. Her sister. Her brothers. Her parents. Her dearest friends. But that only made her fight harder and fiercer. Away she would march. Away to the battlefield.
The enemy would throw darts at her while she was fighting. Ones that said things like, “You’re ugly,” or “Nobody care about you,” or “You won’t accomplish anything with your life.” This tactic worked with most girls—if nothing else would distract them, the insult darts would. But this girl learned to watch where the darts were coming from and block them with truth. “I’m created in the King’s image,” and “I’m loved by the King,” and “The King has already accomplished things in me.” Her position on the battlefield would not waver.
All of the enemy was afraid of her sword. It was well-worn and sharp. It fit in her hand perfectly, as if it had been made especially for her. She was focused and intense in battle, often singing as she fought. Her songs made the enemy retreat even further—for who wants to fight a warrior who is singing songs of life?
Not everyone respected her. They had no idea she was fighting for them. They thought she was no fun. They thought she was too focused. They thought her diligence meant she was condemning them.
But in truth, she was raising her sword and fighting for them as the enemy circled. She gave of her time and strength and hope—for them. She loved the ones the King loved, and that included every family member, every friend, every neighbor, every stranger.
So she battled on.
Many thanks to Gretchen Louise and her daughter, Ruth Anne for the photograph used on The Warrior Girl cover, as well as her daughter, Mary Kate who posed with Daughters of the King.