Kevin Baugh has his own country—The Republic of Molossia—and if you don't mind, he'd prefer you call him "His Excellency Kevin Baugh." After all, he has an impressive khaki uniform with six big medals, a gold braid, epaulets at the shoulders, and a blue, white, and green sash. Oh—and a general's cap with a gold starburst over the bill.

Have you ever heard of The Republic of Molossia? That's understandable because it consists of Baugh's three-bedroom house and a 1.3-acre yard outside of Dayton, Nevada. According to an article in the Chicago Tribune, "He has a space program (a model rocket), a currency (pegged to the value of chocolate-chip cookie dough), a railroad (model size), a national sport (broomball), and—in his landlocked desert region—a navy (an inflatable boat)."

The newspaper goes on to say: "Baugh, a 45-year-old father of two, is a micro-nationalist, one of a wacky band of do-it-yourself nation builders who raise flags over their front yards and declare their property to be, as Baugh puts it 'the kingdom of me.'"

It’s tempting to try this: declare my house and my lot an independent country.  I suppose I could tell the US Treasury not to expect any more checks from me.  I wonder if Border Patrol would set up a passport check station at the end of my driveway?

I would do things differently than Kevin, for sure.  I would name my country “Claylandia.”  I would not want to be called “His most Excellency.”  I think I would prefer “The Exalted and Mighty Clay.”  Our official currency would be ribeye steaks, and since I have a pond in my backyard, I would have a better navy than Kevin: a john-boat with a 12 gauge shotgun.  The official animal of my country would be my dog, Moo.

The truth is most of us actually do treat our lives as our own little kingdoms.  We raise a flag over our souls and declare that we are in charge.  We make decision after decision, thinking we can control people and situations. Then we are surprised when we find out people don’t recognize our kingdom.  We are outraged when cancer invades.  We can’t stand it when laws are applied to us; we think they are for other people. 

When Jesus teaches us to pray “Thy Kingdom Come, thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven,” he’s telling us that we are better off under God’s rule than our own.  God’s soul is infinitely better than ours.  God is far more trustworthy than we are.  Everything in God’s Kingdom may not go according to our plan, but it will go according to His plan.  The question is not if God’s Kingdom will prevail; the question is when it will prevail.

Asking for God’s Kingdom to come means we are also committing ourselves to live in harmony with the ruler of that Kingdom.  Here is what makes God’s Kingdom unique: Jesus pays the price not just for us to enter the Kingdom, but to become children of the King. 

I don’t think I want to live in the Republic of Molossia.  Kevin doesn’t sound like a very appealing King to me.  But I realize I don’t want to live in the Kingdom of Claylanda either.  The King there doesn’t do a very good job. 

The best Kingdom is the one with the best King. The best King is the one who laid down his life for me and rose again with power for me. His is the Kingdom for me. And I hope, for you too.