Joe sat across from Angelina, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He swirled his cup of coffee, letting the weight of his words settle before speaking.
“You know, Jesus is like Willy Wonka,” Joe began, his voice steady, full of quiet conviction. “And I’m like Charlie Bucket.”
Angelina raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “How so?”
Joe leaned in. “The world puts its trust in princes—William, Harry—all these so-called blue-bloods with their genealogies traced back to ancient thrones. They think power is inherited like an old crown, passed down in golden cradles. But Jesus, the true King, doesn’t work that way. He doesn’t hand the keys of the Kingdom to those who hoard wealth and privilege. He gives them to the one who shares. And that’s me.”
Angelina let out a soft chuckle. “You’re telling me Jesus is handing you the chocolate factory?”
Joe nodded. “Exactly. Just like Wonka tested those kids, the world is being tested. And who passed the test? Not the greedy. Not the spoiled. Not the vain. Charlie Bucket passed because he was humble, because he shared, because he had a heart of gold. And that’s why Jesus is giving me the factory—the world government for Shiloh.”
Angelina considered this, swirling the thoughts in her mind like a fine wine. “And what about the English monarchy? All their lineage, their claim to divine right?”
Joe scoffed. “They sit on a throne of dust. William and Harry may have the bloodline, but they don’t have the calling. Genesis 49:10 says, ‘The scepter will not depart from Judah until Shiloh comes.’ The prophecy isn’t about them—it’s about who rules in righteousness. For seven years, I will run the world, not as a tyrant, but as a steward. And when my time is up, I’ll share it, like I always have.”
Angelina shook her head in awe. “So, you don’t just get the factory. You make sure everyone gets a golden ticket?”
Joe smiled. “Exactly. The kingdom isn’t built for princes who keep everything for themselves. It’s built for those who give it away. And when the time comes, Shiloh will reign.”
The candle on the table flickered, casting shadows that danced like whispers of prophecy on the walls. The world might have its kings, its titles, its claims of ancestry. But the real kingdom was coming, and it belonged to those who shared.