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Good morning. On my first Sunday as a new undergraduate at Cambridge I went to Evensong at Trinity College. The preacher was the Dean, John Robinson, author of the controversial book Honest to God. Opposite him sat the 20-year old Prince of Wales soon to graduate with a degree in Archaeology and Anthropology. ‘We all must follow our vocation’ the Dean said, ‘Even if it is to be King of England.’ All this came back to me this week as, on Tuesday, the King presided at his first investiture since his illness. Later the same day a new portrait of him by Jonathen Yeo was unveiled which has been much praised and much criticised. The King’s face emerges from a swirling sea of red brushstrokes which are so arresting that it takes time to see his hands, his Welsh Guards uniform and his sword. A butterfly hovers over his right shoulder, a reference to the King’s passion for the environment while also suggesting ancient themes of metamorphosis and spiritual transformation. I couldn’t help thinking that, fifty five years on from the evening in Trinity College, this is where his Christian vocation has led him. He is now our national symbol of continuity while the red rages about him: life, energy, passion, danger, blood, even the Holy Spirit coming in fire: those red brushstrokes can mean so many things. But what the portrait also reveals is that being Prince of Wales and then King has not spared King Charles from having to learn life’s difficult lessons, or saved him from suffering. The lines are etched on his face, his fingers are gnarled with age. At the investiture earlier in the day King Charles knighted Justin Welby the Archbishop of Canterbury and also made a Dame of that Queen of the saucy Rutshire Chronicles, Jilly Cooper. This is what in practice being a monarch means, the daily round of recognitions, of honouring and affirming people and places, of being a servant to the nation as King Charles promised in his Coronation. The portrait has set me thinking about how any of us might be portrayed if we let an artist like Jonathan Yeo have a free hand. Would our face reveal our true age, or be more flattering? How would we choose to be dressed? What would we be holding and would nature flutter in to symbolise our part in it? And perhaps most important, what storm of colour are we emerging from and what might it mean about our vocation in life? There is your spiritual exercise for today.