Faith In The Ordinary

Choosing the Kingdom in Real Life

Leaving One World For Another

When I say, “I don’t live in that world,” I am naming a world where fear interprets reality, scarcity dictates identity, and survival depends entirely on my own strength. Coming out of that world does not mean I am claiming distance from hardship. My life carries real pressure—financial responsibilities that often exceed what my income easily supports, children entrusted to me, whose needs shape how I show up each day, and the weight of being the more stable centre emotionally, practically, and relationally. All of this unfolds while working, managing health, and slowly untangling the effects of a relationship that trained me, over time, to question my own reality. There are days when the margins are thin and the energy is thinner.

But I have come to understand that a different world exists—one where fear is not the interpreter of reality, where worth is not measured by output, and where strength is not something I must manufacture on my own. Choosing to live in that world is not an escape from pressure, pain, or responsibility. It is a decision of allegiance to a different authority, a different way of seeing, and a different source of life. So, this is not a declaration made from ease. It is a declaration made from within the constraints and pressure of life.

What Scripture Calls This World

The world I am choosing to live in is what Scripture calls the Kingdom of God. Not a distant place, and not a future escape, but a present reality—a way of life ordered under God’s rule. Jesus spoke of the Kingdom as something that was “at hand” (Mark 1:15), already breaking into ordinary human life, and later said that it was “in your midst” (Luke 17:21). The Kingdom of God, then, is not primarily about where we go one day; it is about who governs us now. It answers a very practical question: who gets to define what is true, what is necessary, and what is possible when life is heavy? Jesus taught us to pray not for escape, but for God’s rule to take shape here and now — “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10).

When Jesus spoke about the Kingdom, He did not describe an idealized life without pressure. He was clear that trouble would still come —“In this world you will have tribulation” (John 16:33)—and that storms would still hit both the wise and the foolish alike (Matthew 7:24–27). What He announced instead was a different authority breaking into ordinary, difficult human existence. To live in the Kingdom, then, is to live under God’s rule rather than under the rule of fear, scarcity, or self-reliance. And because a kingdom always reflects the nature of its king, the strength of this Kingdom is found not in my capacity, but in the character of God Himself—revealed fully in Jesus, to whom “all authority in heaven and on earth” has been given (Matthew 28:18).

Why This Kingdom Can Be Trusted

To say that I live in the Kingdom of God is not simply to name a belief — it is to place my life under a Person. Every kingdom reflects the nature of its king, and the way this Kingdom carries me is shaped entirely by who God is. What makes this Kingdom strong, safe, and liveable is not my faith in it, but the character of the One who rules it.

The Kingdom Is Strong Because God Is

When I say that the Kingdom of God is the only framework that can sustain my life, I do not mean it as a vague spiritual comfort. I mean it very specifically. Because the Kingdom is defined by who rules, its strength does not come from my capacity to hold things together, but from the One who governs it. Scripture says that God’s Kingdom is an everlasting Kingdom and His dominion endures through all generations (Psalm 145:13). That means the stability of this world does not rest on my emotional endurance, my financial margin, or my ability to stay composed—it rests on the unchanging character of God Himself.

The Kingdom is not strong because I am strong; it is strong because of who God is. Jesus shows me exactly what that strength looks like when it enters ordinary human life. He does not display strength through control or self-preservation, but through trust, surrender, and love. Even in weakness and suffering, He remains anchored in the Father’s will and is able to say, “Not my will, but Yours be done” (Luke 22:42). And after the cross, He declares that “all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to Me” (Matthew 28:18), revealing that the Kingdom is upheld not by force, but by divine authority and faithfulness.

Because of this, my responses to pressure, conflict, lack, uncertainty, and exhaustion are not shaped by positive thinking or self-mastery. They are shaped—sometimes clumsily, sometimes faithfully—by the character of the King under whose authority I am learning to live. As Scripture says, “The Kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power” (1 Corinthians 4:20), and that power is not something I generate; it is something I learn to trust. The strength that holds my life together does not come from me holding on harder—it comes from being held by a King whose rule does not falter.

Kingdom Confessions

• I no longer live in the world where my strength determines my survival.
• I live in the Kingdom where the Lord is my strength and my shield (Psalm 28:7),
  where His grace is sufficient for me and His power is made perfect in my weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).
• When I am weak, I am not disqualified—I am aligned, because it is then that Christ’s strength rests on me (2 Corinthians 12:10).
• I do not stand by what I can hold together. I stand by the authority and faithfulness of the King under whose rule I now live.

The Nature Of The King Behind The Kingdom

God Is Love — So I Am Learning to Live From Grace, Not Fear

At the centre of the Kingdom is not power, control, or perfection. It is love. Scripture does not say that God has love — it says, “God is love” (1 John 4:8). That means everything about this Kingdom flows from who God is, not from how well I perform. Love is not an accessory to the Kingdom. It is the atmosphere of it.

But love in God’s Kingdom does not reach us as sentiment — it reaches us as grace. Grace is love that moves toward people who cannot earn it, cannot sustain it, and cannot fix themselves. “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). God did not wait for me to be healed, whole, or faithful before He loved me. He loved me while I was still learning how to live.

This is what makes Kingdom life possible. I am not relating to God from a position of worthiness, but from a position of grace. “By grace you have been saved through faith… not by works” (Ephesians 2:8–9). That means I am not carried by how well I’m doing, but by how deeply I am held.

And yet, learning to live from love is not easy. Grace may be freely given but receiving it takes time. Extending it — to myself and to others — takes even longer. I am not writing this as someone who has mastered love. I am writing as someone being slowly reshaped by it. “We love because He first loved us” (1 John 4:19), but that love is something I am growing into, not something I have fully arrived at.

Because God is love, I do not have to live as though I am constantly auditioning for belonging. “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear” (1 John 4:18). Fear says, You could lose your place. Grace says, You were never holding it in the first place. God’s love does not retreat when I struggle. It does not disappear when I fail. It holds me while I am still being formed.

This is why I do not live in that old world anymore — the world where worth must be earned, where failure means exile, and where love is conditional. I live in a Kingdom where grace came first, love remains steady, and belonging is not up for negotiation — even while I am still learning how to live from it.

Kingdom Confessions

• I no longer live in the world where love must be earned.
• I live in the Kingdom of a God who is love (1 John 4:8).
• I am held by grace, not by my performance (Ephesians 2:8–9).
• I am loved before I am healed, before I am strong, and before I get it right (Romans 5:8).
• I am learning to love because He first loved me (1 John 4:19).
• Fear does not rule me, because perfect love is casting it out (1 John 4:18).
• I belong to a Kingdom where grace holds me while love continues to shape me.

God Is Faithful — So I Don’t Interpret Delay as Abandonment

Kingdom living is not the belief that things will resolve quickly. It is the confidence that God does not disengage when things are slow. Scripture names Him as “the faithful God who keeps covenant” (Deuteronomy 7:9), and even when I falter, “He remains faithful” (2 Timothy 2:13). His faithfulness is not reactive; it is rooted in who He is. It does not rise and fall with my consistency, my clarity, or my progress. It is anchored in His character.

In a world that equates speed with success, waiting easily feels like failure. When finances are tight, progress is invisible, or answers do not arrive on my timeline, the default conclusion is often that something has gone wrong. But under the rule of the Kingdom, I am learning a different measure. Faithfulness is not measured by speed; it is measured by trust that remains when outcomes are still unseen. God Himself tells Habakkuk, “If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come” (Habakkuk 2:3), not because waiting is easy, but because His promises are sure.

Because God is faithful, I am learning to respond to delay not with panic, but with steadiness—planning without despair, obedience without guarantees, and perseverance without interpreting silence as rejection. What looks like waiting in the world is often faithful alignment in the Kingdom. God’s work does not stall just because I cannot yet see it.

Kingdom Confessions

• I no longer live in the world where delay means abandonment.
• I live in the Kingdom of a faithful God who keeps covenant and does not forget His promises (Deuteronomy 7:9).
• Even when I am uncertain, He remains faithful (2 Timothy 2:13).
• If the vision seems slow, I will wait, because what God has spoken will surely come (Habakkuk 2:3).
• I am not behind. I am being held inside His timing.

God Is Provider — So I Don’t Live as Though Everything Depends on Me

Kingdom living does not remove responsibility; it reframes it. Under this world’s system, responsibility quietly turns into burden, and burden turns into self-reliance. As a parent and provider, the temptation to believe that everything will collapse if I falter is constant, especially when margins are thin. Scarcity thinking tightens quickly in those moments, urging me toward control disguised as wisdom. It whispers that safety comes from holding tighter, planning harder, and never letting anything slip.

But under the rule of the Kingdom, I am reminded that I am a steward, not the source. My role is faithfulness, not omnipotence. When David said, “The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want” (Psalm 23:1), he was not denying effort or responsibility—he was refusing to place himself in God’s position. And when Jesus says that the Father already knows what we need (Matthew 6:32), He is not dismissing our work; He is restoring the proper order of trust.

Because God is Provider, I am learning to respond to lack not by hoarding control or carrying silent panic, but by planning and acting inside trust. I work, I decide, I prepare—but I no longer pretend that my ability is the source of what sustains me. Even my capacity to do is something I receive, not something I generate. So I take responsibility without self-deification, effort without desperation, and action without the burden of pretending I am God. What I have is stewarded. What I need is supplied. And everything I do stands inside the provision of the One who never runs out.

Kingdom Confessions

• I no longer live in the world where my provision depends on my panic.
• I live in the Kingdom of the Lord who is my Shepherd, and therefore I lack nothing I truly need (Psalm 23:1).
• My Father knows what I need before I ask (Matthew 6:32), and He is faithful to supply what I cannot produce.
• I am a steward, not the source.
• I do my part in faith, and I rest in the provision of the King.

God Is Peace — So I Don’t Let Chaos Dictate My Pace

Kingdom peace is not emotional numbness or withdrawal; it is inner governance. Scripture is clear that “God is not a God of confusion but of peace” (1 Corinthians 14:33), and Jesus makes a sharp distinction when He says that the peace He gives is not the kind the world gives (John 14:27). The world offers quiet through avoidance or control. The Kingdom offers peace through alignment—through being rightly ordered under God’s rule.

Life still brings demands, emotional spillover, and moments when everything feels urgent, but the Kingdom teaches me that urgency is not the same as wisdom. In a fear-driven world, speed often masquerades as clarity. But Kingdom peace slows me enough to hear what actually matters. It becomes a signal of alignment, not avoidance. Because of that, I am learning not to make decisions while flooded, not to respond simply because something is loud, and not to mistake adrenaline for discernment.

This matters especially when something is genuinely wrong. There are moments when the issue is not internal fear but real injustice—something that needs to be confronted or changed. Kingdom peace does not silence me in those moments; it steadies me. It keeps my actions anchored in truth rather than driven by panic, rage, or desperation. I am still fully present in this world, still willing to act—but I am no longer governed by chaos.

Kingdom Confessions

• I no longer live in the world where urgency decides my direction.
• I live in the Kingdom of the God of peace, not confusion (1 Corinthians 14:33).
• The peace Christ gives me is not dependent on circumstances, but on alignment with Him (John 14:27).
• I do not have to rush to be faithful.
• I move in step with the peace of the King.

God Is Truth — So I Don’t Build My Life on Distorted Narratives

The world forms identity through accusation: you’re behind, you’re failing, you should be further along. Accusation becomes the lens through which everything is interpreted—circumstances, relationships, even the self. But the world also offers another distortion: the idea that truth is whatever I feel, believe, or experience it to be. Between accusation and subjectivity, reality becomes either condemning or self-constructed.

The Kingdom operates differently. It exposes lies before it demands change. Jesus says plainly, “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32). Freedom in the Kingdom does not begin with improvement; it begins with illumination — with something outside me speaking what is real, even when it contradicts what I feel or fear.

Living under truth means I stop rehearsing narratives shaped by past harm, manipulation, internalized blame, or even my own emotional certainty. It means learning to distinguish between what is loud, what is familiar, and what is actually true. Distorted interpretations can feel convincing — whether they come from accusation or from self-justification — especially when they have been repeated over time. But the Kingdom does not ask me to treat sincerity as truth.

As Paul writes, I am learning to “take every thought captive to obey Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:5) — not by suppressing my thoughts, but by placing them under a higher authority. In this Kingdom, neither fear nor feeling gets the final word. Christ does.

Kingdom living does not pretend lies do not exist — whether they come dressed as condemnation or personal “truth.” It refuses to build a life on either. Truth becomes the governing framework — not accusation, not comparison, not emotion, not memory. Under God’s rule, identity is no longer something I must defend, invent, or prove. It is something I receive and learn to live from.

Kingdom Confessions

• I no longer live in the world where accusation defines who I am.
• I no longer live in the world where truth is whatever feels real in the moment.
• I live in the Kingdom of truth, where what God says carries more authority than fear, shame, memory, or emotion (John 8:32).
• I bring my thoughts under the obedience of Christ, not because they are harmless, but because they are not sovereign (2 Corinthians 10:5).
• I do not have to agree with every thought I have.
• I live by the truth of the King, not the narratives of the old world.

Jesus Is Lord — So I Don’t Need to Control Outcomes

Kingdom living is not passive, but it is surrendered. Jesus’ declaration that “all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to Me” (Matthew 28:18) changes the weight I place on my own decisions. It frees me from believing that every outcome rests on perfect execution, because authority does not sit on my shoulders—it belongs to Christ. The Kingdom is not sustained by my precision, but by His reign.

This surrender has cost me something. It has cost me the illusion of control and the belief that I can save myself. As Jesus said, “Whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it” (Matthew 16:25). Obedience in the Kingdom is not compliance; it is trust made visible—choosing alignment over certainty and direction over comfort. I do not obey because I am afraid of losing God; I obey because I trust Him enough to follow where He leads.

Kingdom Confessions

• I no longer live in the world where control is my security.
• I live in the Kingdom of Jesus Christ, to whom all authority in heaven and on earth belongs (Matthew 28:18).
• I do not have to save myself; I entrust my life to the One who already has.
• Even when obedience costs me comfort, it leads me into life (Matthew 16:25).
• I walk under the rule of the King, not the pressure of outcomes.

Repentance and Confession — How the Kingdom Handles Failure (Gospel-anchored)

Living in the Kingdom does not mean I stop failing, but it does mean failure no longer defines where I belong. This is where repentance and confession matter—not as rituals of shame, but as pathways of return. In the world, failure is exposure, and confession is dangerous because it costs status and safety. But the Kingdom is built on grace, not image. Jesus did not come to expose me; He came to save me. Scripture says that “there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1), which means that even when I am wrong, I am not cast out.

In the Kingdom, confession is not about securing forgiveness, as though forgiveness were fragile or conditional. “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us” (1 John 1:9) is grounded in the truth that Christ has already borne the weight of sin at the cross. Forgiveness is not negotiated—it is accomplished. Confession simply brings me back into alignment with what is already true.

Repentance, then, is not self-punishment or grovelling; it is a change of mind—a turning back toward truth when I have begun living as though fear, control, or self-reliance were my authority again. When I repent, I am not exiting the Kingdom. I am re-entering its order, returning to the rule of the King who has already paid for my restoration.

I’m not writing this from a place of arrival. I’m learning it in real time, often through missteps and quiet corrections. But because Christ has already secured my place, I do not repent in order to stay in the Kingdom—I repent because I belong to it. This is lived forward, not mastered.

Forgiveness — How the Kingdom Breaks the Power of the Past (Gospel-anchored)

The Kingdom also asks something difficult: forgiveness. Not denial of harm. Not permission for injustice to continue. But freedom. Forgiveness in the Kingdom is not rooted in human willpower; it flows from what God has already done. “God demonstrates His own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). The cross is where God absorbed the debt of sin so that it no longer had to be carried.

God’s forgiveness toward me is foundational—He removes my transgressions “as far as the east is from the west” (Psalm 103:12). But the Kingdom does not stop with forgiveness received; it reshapes forgiveness extended. Because Christ has released me from a debt I could never repay, I am no longer required to carry the debts of others in my own body and spirit.

Forgiving others does not erase truth, remove boundaries, or require reconciliation. It releases me from being ruled by what was done to me. To forgive is not to say what happened was acceptable; it is to say it will not be my master. Unforgiveness keeps me tethered to the very world I am trying to leave. Forgiveness loosens that grip.

I’m not writing this from a place of arrival. I am learning this in real time—often slowly, sometimes reluctantly, and with more resistance than I would like to admit. But because I no longer live in that world, I no longer interpret forgiveness the same way. Even when resistance remains, the Kingdom’s view is quietly reshaping mine—loosening fear, undoing old defences, and slowly breaking the grip that unforgiveness once had on me. This, too, is lived forward, not mastered.

Strength That Doesn’t Depend on Me (Cross-anchored)

Living from identity would still be impossible if strength depended on my capacity. One of the quiet lies I absorbed over time was that survival required constant strength—emotional, mental, spiritual. But God speaks directly into that illusion: “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). That power flows from the risen Christ—the One who was crucified in weakness and raised in glory (2 Corinthians 13:4). My weakness does not disqualify me; it connects me to His strength.

Kingdom living is not about becoming unbreakable; it is about becoming dependent without shame. And that dependence was never meant to be solitary. The Kingdom was never designed to operate only vertically. God’s strength often reaches me through others, as Scripture reminds us to “bear one another’s burdens” (Galatians 6:2). Receiving help is not a failure of faith; it is often the very way God supplies what I cannot generate myself.

This is not something I live out perfectly or consistently. There are moments I slip back into old ways of interpreting reality. The difference now is not perfection, but where I return for alignment—remembering that I simply do not live in that world anymore.

Formation, Not Performance (Christ-centred)

As I learn to live from identity and lean on God’s strength, formation begins to take shape. I am not forming myself; the Spirit of God is at work—leading, convicting, and shaping what I could never manufacture on my own (Romans 8:14). His purpose is not self-improvement but transformation—forming me into the likeness of Christ Himself (Romans 8:29).

Confidence grows not from self-assurance, but from knowing who holds authority. Relationship with God becomes central rather than transactional. Discernment replaces reactivity, and rest becomes an act of trust rather than collapse. These are not techniques or achievements; they are the fruit of the Spirit’s work.

I do not practice these behaviours to qualify for the Kingdom. I practice them because I already belong to it.

This World Is Open — The Gospel Invitation into the Kingdom

The words “I don’t live in that world” are not meant to draw a line of exclusion. They are meant to point to an open door. Scripture calls this world the Kingdom of God—not a distant place and not a future escape, but a present reality where life is ordered under God’s rule. And the way into that Kingdom is not self-improvement, spiritual insight, or moral effort. It is the good news of Jesus Christ.

Jesus did not come simply to offer a better philosophy of life. He came announcing a Kingdom and opening its gates. He said, “The time is fulfilled, and the Kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel” (Mark 1:15). The Gospel is the announcement that God Himself has come near in Christ, taken upon Himself the weight of sin, broken the power of death, and restored the way back into His rule. When Jesus says, “I am the door” (John 10:9), He is saying that entrance into this Kingdom is found not in what we do, but in who He is and what He has done.

To enter the Kingdom, then, is not to escape real life, but to receive a new authority over it. It is to turn from false rulers—fear, self-reliance, shame, control—and entrust oneself to the One who has all authority in heaven and on earth. Through Christ, forgiveness is given, identity is restored, and a new way of living begins under God’s reign. This Kingdom is defined by “righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit” (Romans 14:17) because it is built on grace, not striving.

This Kingdom is not theoretical. It meets people in unfinished healing, practical pressures, and ordinary responsibilities. And it is moving history toward restoration. God has promised, “Behold, I am making all things new” (Revelation 21:5), which means that what is broken now will not remain broken forever.

You are not excluded from this world. You do not have to become worthy to enter it. The Gospel itself is the invitation. The Kingdom is near. The door is open. And through Jesus Christ, the King Himself invites you in.

With Christ:

• You will not live in a world which teaches you how to survive.
• You will live in the Kingdom of the living God
• You are held by His faithfulness, supplied by His provision, steadied by His peace, guided by His truth, restored by His mercy, and governed by His Son.
• You do not earn your place in the Kingdom, you receive it
• This is the Kingdom you will learn to live in, and you will answer to no lesser authority.

Don’t you want to be a part of the Kingdom of God?