Audio Christ the King Nov 24 2019
Jeremiah 23:1-6, Psalm 46, Colossians 1:11-20, Luke 23:33-43
Christ the King Sunday, the ultimate paradox. Christ the
King, whose throne is the cross. What we see is not what we get. This
particular paradox is difficult for me. Kingship as we have learned throughout
history has been much more about tyranny than about justice and mercy and
charity.
You may have gathered that my favorite reading material is science fiction and
fantasy, with some historical fiction thrown in. There are two books in which I
have learned most about the kingship of the cross. In The Horse and His Boy,
book 5 in the Chronicles of Narnia series, by C.S. Lewis, King Lune says to his
son Prince Cor, “For this is what it means to be a king: to be first in every
desperate attack and last in every desperate retreat, and when there's hunger
in the land to laugh louder over a scantier meal than any man in your land.”
And the other book is a trilogy of stories called collectively The Song of
Albion, by Stephen R Lawhead. This is an epic story about a young man who
enters into an alternate world, a world of kings and queens, of quests and
wars, an alternate world that is quite related to our own world, what happens
in one affects the other. Our main character enters this alternate world
through one of the thin places of Celtic mythology. Upon entering, he begins to
live a new life with new hopes and dreams. Eventually it becomes clear that he
is to be the king of this land. He becomes a king who understands his kingship
as constituted by the people, he is only king as much as they are his people. He
leads his army into the battles, he gives up his coat, his food, for those of
his land that need it. Eventually he comes to the time when he must ultimately
sacrifice his life for his people, it brings him great sadness, but he does so
out of mercy and compassion.
Is there a king that is recorded in the history books like these kings? Most
often, history books are about the winners, not the kings who gave their lives
for their people. Those kings would be regarded as weak, noneffective, and are
quickly forgotten.
Christ the King, whose throne is the cross. Jesus, the shepherd through whom we
know God. Jesus is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all
creation; for in Jesus all things in heaven and on earth were created. In Jesus
all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through Jesus God was pleased
to reconcile all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through
the cross.
One of the criminals who was hanged there with Jesus said to him “Are you not
the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” And it is as if Jesus thought to himself,
“I am King of the Jews, but I can’t save myself because I am saving you.” Here
is the paradox. This is kingship as presented by God through Jesus. It runs
absolutely counter to Messiah as it had been conceived in those times, Messiah
as those who waited were prepared for.
Jesus, born in a barn, proclaimed as a King, as Mary’s song proclaims, he has
scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts, he has brought down the
powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly, he has filled the hungry
with good things, and sent the rich away empty.
We use Kingly language, like sovereign Lord; we use Kingly images, like Christ
who sits on a throne, and yet we also tell the story of the baby born in a stable,
to parents who had nothing, who grew to be a man who was thrown out of the
temple and whose throne is a cross.
Jesus announced the kingdom of God was drawing near. But Jesus upended and
undermined the whole concept of kingship. The world’s kingdoms are about power
and prestige; Jesus is about mercy and compassion. The rulers of this world may
be about coercion and violence; Jesus’ life was characterized by peace and
reconciliation.
I think this paradox of Jesus as King, and Jesus as the one who eats with tax
collectors and women, whose closest friends were of bunch of smelly fishermen,
is the most difficult image for me to reconcile. I am much more comfortable
with the Jesus who wears Birkenstocks and jeans and a tee shirt, than Jesus who
wears a crown and a robe. Kings spent all of their time building up riches of
gold, silver, and jewels, but Jesus owned nothing at all. Kings surround
themselves with servants; Jesus chose to be a servant. But, today, we are asked
to hold both images in tension, Christ the king, whose throne is a cross, and
in so doing we see a fuller picture.
Worldly kingship implies power; power over others, authority over people. But
Jesus did not exercise this sort of power and authority. Jesus’ power and
authority are shared, not possessed. Jesus’ power is not over people, but with
and through people. Kingdom is the inbreaking of a new order, an order that
doesn’t just drive out the old order, but that reorders all relationships. The
criminal hanging on the cross next to Jesus recognized this power and
authority, the power and authority to love absolutely, the power and authority
to forgive. Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.
Jesus, the one who comes to show us the way to God, Jesus, the one who is King
of all creation, is at the very same time the one who lived life just like you
and me, who loved his friends and family, who suffered and died, just like you
and me. For what good is a God who sits back and watches, what good is a God
who rules from afar, what good is a God that holds power over people. Jesus is
the one who loves, the criminal who hangs next to him, the mother who cries
below him, the friends who betray him.
Kingship for Jesus is giving himself totally and absolutely for the love of his
people. It is this love that you and I must respond to. It is this love that is
transforming love. It is this love that reconciles and redeems. It is this love
that causes us to love ourselves, it is this love that causes us to love one
another, it is this love that gives us hope. Jesus’ love changes us.
We are changed through the realization that each one of us is loved completely
and absolutely, just like that person on the cross next to Jesus, not for what
we’ve done or not done, but for who we are. What kind of change happens in us
for us to declare, Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom? It is
the kind of change that causes each one of us to know that none of us is in
this life alone, and none of us gets out of this life alive. It’s the kind of
change that causes us to know that perfection is not the way, but love and
forgiveness are. It is the kind of change that causes us to serve, like Jesus
serves, the person next to us. Whether that person is next to us in our pew
here in church, or that person is next to us in line at the grocery store, or
that person is the one with whom you disagree most vehemently.
We are changed through the realization that when we fall short of the kind of
love Jesus demonstrates for us, and we will fall short, that is part of being
human, we are forgiven. Forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.
Forgiveness not just once, but time and time again. Not even just until we get
it right, because it’s not about getting it right. It’s about responding to
Jesus love with love, and when we don’t, we ask for forgiveness. It’s about
responding with love to the encounters along our paths, and when we don’t, we
ask for forgiveness.
We begin our Advent journey next week. We begin our preparations for the coming
of Christ into our hearts, and into our lives, for all time and all places. We
begin our waiting in hope at this place of the cross, and this place of
paradox, at this place where kingdom comes, and where love and forgiveness
prevail. We begin at the place of remembering, Jesus, remember me when you come
into your kingdom. We begin at the place of forgiveness, today you will be with
me in Paradise. We begin at the place of grace, for you are absolutely and
abundantly loved. Thanks be to God.
