NaNoWriMo 2022
Kingdom Coming
American Kingdom: Day 8
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“Smooth operator,” I said as Brian — Sir Brian! — aimed the car back to the Airbnb.
“He’s got a magic about him, sure enough,” agreed Marion.
“Look,” I said, “I need time to process all this. What would really help are some details, something to base a decision on. No offense but this sounds pretty flaky to me right now.”
“Fair’s fair,” Marion said. “How about we fill up the time before your schoolteacher friend comes to collect you with an Ask Me Anything session? We’d love to have you come join us but if your heart is uncertain that doesn’t help anyone.”
“Deal. I’ve got a bunch of questions and I suspect Google won’t give me answers.”
“Just call me the driver,” Brian said, setting the indicator for a left turn into the apartment block.
“Sir Brian, you drive me crazy,” Marion said.
They both chuckled. A polished double act.
The apartment's small balcony gave us a view over the river. Sheltered from the worst of the wind and rain, now moving off east, it had remained mostly dry. Marion pulled out some towels to cover the damp spots.
“Sit down, honey. You too, Molly. Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
Brian looked at me, and I looked at him.
He spread his hands out. Ask me anything.
Okay then.
“This organization of yours sounds like a Mickey Mouse Faire thing, all these bullshit titles. Americans don’t have royalty and titles. What’s the deal there?”
“We are all loyal Americans but as Duke Francis said, we have a higher loyalty. Our King is in Heaven, and will return. We work to prepare the way for our King. We hold no public office, we hold no church office, we simply find ways to aid the coming Kingdom.”
“Yes, but the titles? Who hands those out?”
“They come from above. They are heritage and merit. They are held by service. I was given a knighthood for service to country and service to the King. Marion…”
“I am the Duchess of Dallas and Fort Worth because my father was the Duke there and I have been true all my life,” Marion said, setting down a tray of coffee cups and cookies.
I sipped my joe in silence for a while. The rain had gone, the low afternoon sun was gleaming on the puddles, the sidewalk was steaming and if I were able to look to the east, I am sure I would have seen a double rainbow.
Taking tea with a duchess. Who would have thought it?
“It’s not just fancy words and tinsel titles,” Marion said. “We have real power, real responsibilities, real duties. Duke Francis hinted at some of them. Influencing legislation, helping make the nation more aligned for those with faith, less comfortable for those who do not believe. Our way is clear in most things and when we need to decide, we meet to pray, to consult, to find the best way.”
“And your workforce? You want me to join the Lord’s Army as a grunt, I imagine. Where are your battalions?”
Brian answered. “We don’t have anything like that. We don’t have quantity — what would thousands of warriors do? — we have quality. People with skills, people with training, people with experience. People who can look at the forces and see the critical points.”
“People like you, Molly,” Marion said. “People of faith, people with the Lord in their hearts, people who have thoughtful minds instead of shallow, dogmatic, and simple.
“People with love in their hearts and not hatred. People who don’t see the world through rose-colored glasses, but with eyes opened by scripture and compassion.”
“And, if I may say so,” added Brian, “people who do not necessarily follow all the rules. Those with a Special Operations mindset, those who fight with victory in their thoughts, regardless of the rules of the game.”
“Jesus accepts that earthly laws are not above His own, Duke Francis made that clear, I hope?”
“I can break the law and I still get a free pass into eternal bliss so long as I pray to Jesus just before they throw the switch on the electric chair. Sounds rather cheap and fake to me, to be honest.”
“When you put it like that, of course it is,” Marion said. She sipped her coffee as we watched a fishing boat head downriver. Rusty and cluttered, it stood in contrast to the gleaming charter boats in the marina.
“Our Lord,” she went on, “preached to the poor, the workers, the cripples. They saw him as their guide to eternal glory, lifting them up. He found his followers amongst fishermen — smelly people doing a simple job — not the rich or the learned, and those unlettered people spread the word through time and space so everyone could hear. Two thousand years on and everyone in every corner of the world has heard the name of Jesus.
“He let a prostitute wash his feet and cover them in perfume. What sort of scent does a whore use? Nothing fancy, I’ll bet. His life on earth was spent in the company of the lowest of Jewish society. People who worked with their hands and probably were not too tidy or bathed as often as they might.”
I looked at her, a rich woman lawyer with a gimcrack title, lecturing me on the poor and downtrodden. I fed them soup every Friday, washed the clothes of the homeless, and helped them deal with public servants and their endless forms. What did she know of simple charity and love?
“Our Lord died in pain and humiliation, in the company of criminals, sentenced unjustly, mocked and tortured. The rich, the priestly, the worldly elite not just rejected Him, but hated Him so much they sent him to an ignoble death.
“When you say cheap and fake and tawdry, then you are describing the life of Jesus amongst those who listened best. He wasn’t anointed by the High Temple Priest; He was served by a working girl whose cosmetics were kept in a jar made of cheap alabaster, not gold or silver or marble or onyx. And yet, even the lowest, the poorest, the most despised of humanity has an immortal soul. Jesus saw this clearly and he reached out to them.
“We draw our titles of nobility and honor, not from earthly kings, but from the common people. We work to bring salvation and glory closer to all, not just those who live in mansions.”
“I see doubt on your face,” Brian said. “We are hardly living on the streets. If you accept Jesus as your savior and give him the sweetest spot in your heart and you truly believe then what does anything else matter? Loaves and fishes or caviar and champagne; it is all shadows compared to the reality of His majesty and the vast scale of His work to liberate humanity.”
Marion smiled at her husband. “Well put, Brian. Molly, our work is focused on the return of our King to this earthly realm and the saving of all those who accept and believe. If we are supported in our work by those with the means to give and give generously then it means that we do not have to spend time simply earning a living. We can devote all of our efforts to finding the best path to restoring Jesus to his majesty among us, and we in his court. Our titles are intended not to elevate ourselves but to acknowledge His Kingdom. I call Francis a Duke and I meet with Princes and Countesses and every time we bow or salute each other, we recognise the truth and the glory of our Heavenly King.”
“Those,” I said. “are a lot of words to convince an ex-soldier to join some phantom army. The reality for me is that I am homeless, without money, at a low point in my life. It’s all very well to talk about heavenly riches and glories but in a week I’ll probably be a waitress at some student bar, and I’ll still be helping those in need beside Pastor Adams and Teacher Leonie and Gardener Kenzie and I’ll be content in my own heart that I will find Heaven as surely as any other companion in faith.”
“Of course.” Marion said. “We ask only that you listen, and when you look up at the words of Matthew above the door to your church, think back to a little earlier in the same chapter of the Gospel, where Jesus talks about the talents. You may tell Him, when He returns, ‘I was a waitress and I did a little for you by serving the poor’ and that will be good enough. Or you may say, ‘I was a warrior for you, my King, and I put my talents to work to bring your heavenly realm of everlasting glory closer and to defeat Your enemies who were tireless in their efforts to deny You.’ It is your choice entirely.”
Goodness, where had the time gone? Our cups were empty and cold, the dusk was drawing in, and there was my friend Leonie waving up from the street below. Cheerful, smiling Leonie, always there with a hug and a happy heart.
“Thank you for all your help,” I said, standing up. “Pass my thanks on to Duke Francis again. I will have to say No for now, but I will sleep on it, and I will pray for guidance.”
Next chapter:
The whole story (NaNoWriMo 2022 work in progress)
