Read here to see what happened in The Tale of Two Kingdoms Part One.
Eli turned the story over in his mind. “So the garden is…?”
“The life of Christ within you,” Micah said. “The hidden life. The inner kingdom. The place where God grows what only He can grow. But many disciples, while speaking of Jesus, spend their strength building towers He never asked for.”
That week, Eli began to notice the two kingdoms everywhere.
He noticed them when he was ignored and felt a surge of resentment. One kingdom whispered, “Make them regret overlooking you.” The other whispered, “You are already seen by your Father.”
He noticed them in ministry meetings. One kingdom wanted credit, subtle control, and the final word. The other was content to serve, listen, and decrease.
He noticed them in suffering. One kingdom demanded immediate explanation and escape. The other invited trust, even in darkness.
He noticed them online. One kingdom fed on performance, outrage, vanity, tribalism, and the endless need to be right in public. The other seemed almost invisible there, except in those rare souls who spoke truth with gentleness and then disappeared back into prayer.
At first Eli thought the kingdoms were merely “out there,” in culture, politics, institutions, and systems. But gradually he discovered their battlefield was much nearer.
It was within him.
There were mornings when he prayed, yet inwardly negotiated with God: “Bless me, enlarge me, establish me, make my work succeed.” None of these requests was necessarily wrong. Yet often beneath them sat an uncrucified self still hoping to recruit Jesus into its own advancement.
The kingdom of self can sing worship songs, quote Scripture, and volunteer on Sundays.
The kingdom of heaven cannot be counterfeited so easily.
For the first may use God to strengthen the ego. The second always brings the ego to the cross.
Weeks passed. Eli began a new habit. Before answering emails, before posting online, before stepping into church, before making plans, he would sit quietly and ask one question:
“Which kingdom is speaking now?”
Sometimes the answer was painful.
Sometimes he deleted what he had written. Sometimes he kept silent when he wished to defend himself. Sometimes he confessed envy. Sometimes he chose hidden service over visible opportunity. Sometimes he failed entirely and had to return, yet again, to mercy.
But something changed.
He became less hurried.
He no longer needed every room to affirm him.
He began to enjoy prayer when nothing dramatic happened.
He found joy in small obedience.
He listened more carefully.
He repented more quickly.
He spoke of Christ with greater tenderness and less performance.
And though his public life became, in some ways, smaller, his inward world became vast.
One evening he met Micah again.
“I think I’m beginning to understand,” Eli said. “The first kingdom promises life, but it feeds on striving. The second asks for death, but gives life back fuller than before.”
Micah nodded. “Yes. One kingdom is built by grasping. The other is received by surrender. One survives by appearance. The other grows in reality. One is always asking, ‘How do I secure myself?’
The other rests in the King.”
They walked on in silence for a while as the city lights flickered around them.
Finally Micah said, “Never forget: the kingdoms do not merely differ in methods. They differ in source. One rises from Adam. The other from Christ. One says, ‘My will be done.’ The other prays, ‘Thy kingdom come.’”
Meridian still stands, and so do the two kingdoms.
You and I walk through them every day.
Every interruption, every ambition, every offence, every wound, every opportunity, every hidden act of obedience becomes an invitation to one throne or the other.
The kingdoms may even use similar language. Both may speak of purpose, identity, community, calling, and impact. But listen carefully. One draws your eyes toward self-preservation. The other draws your heart toward the Lamb.
And here is the wonder: the kingdom of God rarely arrives with spectacle. It comes like seed. Like leaven. Like light. Like a cross carried willingly. Like a Saviour who had no earthly beauty that men should desire Him, and yet who now reigns above all powers.
Blessed is the disciple who learns to recognise the two kingdoms.
More blessed still is the one who stops building towers and begins tending the garden.
For in that garden, watered by surrender and kept by grace, the King Himself walks.
For His Name’s Sake
C. L. J. Dryden
Shalom
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