Future World Administrators: The Law Division

Reading this article, Preparing for Rulership by J. Charles Ogwyn,  feels like flipping through the strangest recruitment pamphlet you've ever seen-welcome to the Davidic School of Future World Government. 

Not everyone gets in. 

The curriculum? The law. 

The hands-on training? Your entire life. 

Job placement? That's reserved for a select few in a corner of the Churches of God. 

Jesus? He's conveniently listed as King, which makes sense, because someone needs to sit on the throne while the fresh batch of administrators walks the world through ancient statutes.

There's a running joke where the New Covenant keeps returning their application, stamped with "wrong job description." Want to apply? The listing says: "Rulers. Must love the law. Christ experience a plus."

"God has chosen each of us individually," says the brochure. But in this context, it's not a wild celebration of grace-a Father who loves the undeserving. Here, it means a small, informed group who think they've been picked to be the future world's teachers of the law. Everyone else in the faith? Well, they can just be grateful for their baptism-as long as they know not to expect a leadership gig.

There's a lot of bravado packed into a tradition that's spent years splitting over dates, forms of government, or who gets to wear the legacy crown. If the nations are banking on a united legal faculty from here, they should probably keep their options open.

Let's talk Moses. He said, "I can't speak." God just said, "I'll be with you." The article, though, hears a modern pitch about "leaning into your calling"-cut from the same cloth as your average TED Talk, more branding than burning bush.

What kind of king does God actually want? The article lines up Saul and David and nails the first bit: God cares about your heart, not your LinkedIn photo. But then it fumbles: "So, better start shaping a David-like heart by treating the Mosaic code as your professional development plan." The New Testament already filled that blank in. God's ideal king isn't a more devout David with a perfect performance review and a calendar bursting with feast days. God chose David's Son. The one who kept the law, took its curse, and then finished the job for good. Paul says it straight: "Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to everyone who believes." That shreds the whole brochure. If salvation and standing with God still somehow depend on outperforming the rest at law-keeping, then Christ died to set up just another apprentice program.

Sure, the old covenant had a kind of glory. But Hebrews just calls it "obsolete." The tablets of stone were death's ministry, but the Spirit's ministry blows past it. Every time the old covenant gets read without Christ in view, a veil drops. Only Christ lifts it. David loved the law he had, but the law was pointing to someone else.

Faithfulness, trust, time spent with God, zeal, humility, correction-all of that still matters. But the focus has shifted. Faithfulness isn't about quietly keeping sheep and food laws anymore. It means not drifting away from Christ's finished work and back toward ticking old boxes. The tutor's time ended when the heir showed up.

Trust in God? Still everything. Difference now is, in the New Covenant, that trust lands on something specific-a risen Lord who's already handed down the only verdict that matters. It doesn't mean training for your future spot in a world government.

Spending time with God makes the same divide but on different terms: David meditated on the law because that's the only light he had. We have the Light Himself. The article's proposal? Step backwards into the shadows, digest the code all over again, and hope we come out better. Jesus had a word for that: "You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have life, but they point to Me, and you won't come to Me."

Zeal still counts-Saul's fizzled, David's danced, Paul's was intimidating on any résumé. Paul tossed his zeal in the loss pile, though. Zeal that never comes face to face with the Son is just busywork in religious packaging.

Humility? It still looks like David heading back to the sheepfold, not like a church group declaring they've been specially prepped to outrank the entire spectrum of Christianity as the Millennium's law faculty. Revelation 5 isn't an exclusive mailing list. It's a celebration-every tribe, all bought by the Lamb, made into a kingdom and priests. Royal priesthood isn't a jump up the ladder. It's an identity won with blood.

Even the response to correction still splits Saul from David. The most urgent correction now is Galatians 2:18-if we rebuild what Christ tore down, we prove we're transgressors all over again. Turning the law into the end-all, be-all constitution for the future, with Jesus reduced to law enforcement? That's a rebuild. Real confession is, "We confused the signpost with the destination."

The future, honestly, is incredible. But organizing it like a flow chart isn't the gospel. Yes, God's people will reign. Yes, the world can't limp on as it is. But the hope for the nations isn't that some law-trained inner circle finally gets their day. The hope is that the Lamb is on the throne, and His sacrifice unlocked something entirely new.

Rulers in the Kingdom aren't different because they passed an advanced Mosaic law course. They're different because they're one with a King who washed feet, bore sin, and fills hearts with the Spirit. The law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus sets us free from the law of sin and death. That's not a footnote. That's the headline.

Everything you suffer isn't a leadership practicum. It's the Father shaping you into the image of His Son. That image doesn't need a Future Administrator badge. It needs the cross front and center, with the law finally in its right place: fulfilled, not sitting on the throne.

The pamphlet/article pushes a code. The New Covenant introduces a King. Only one is still hiring.