Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
When Queen Elizabeth II of England died in September, the
rest of the world got a glimpse into the monarchy of England, something which
most of us are not familiar with. The major news outlets all had special
reports to talk about Her Majesty’s reign, the major world events that happened
during her almost 71 years on the throne, how she came to be Queen after her
father passed, and how Prince Charles would become King after her death. As a
lover of history, I appreciated seeing something that had not taken place since
1952 and I watched it with both curiosity and reverence. But I also felt deep
compassion for the Queen’s family. Regardless what you think about politicians,
the British, and their Monarchy, remember – while she was lovingly referred to
by citizens of the Empire as “Queen Mother,” it was easy to forget she was also
a mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. I cannot begin to imagine having
to grieve for a loved one on a world-wide stage. It was moving, too, watching the soldiers,
men who faced death in foreign lands and who stood guard outside the palace
gates, ready and willing to defend both nation and monarch, many openly weeping
for her.
Even so, everything was so prim and proper, from the places
where family and dignitaries stood, to the motions and words of the presiding
clergy at her funeral, to the manner in which King Charles was publicly
declared His Majesty, ascending the King’s throne for the first time. The trumpets sounded as he climbed the steps
to the dais. The throne was gold with red satin. His jet-black, pin-striped
suit was crisply pressed and his tie held with a perfect Windsor knot. His
wife, elegant in her flowing gown, sat in the throne to his left. Behind him
was a line of soldiers in their ceremonial dress. Spokespersons of both houses
of Parliament carefully addressed him, offering their words of support and
condolence. The room was filled with various nobles, officials, and dignitaries
from not only across the British Empire but also the world. The scene was
majestically regal and elegant as the choir sang, “God save the King” for the
first time since 1952.
Today is Christ the King Sunday. Yes, the Gospel reading is
correct, the crucifixion. It seems strange to have a reading most commonly
associated with Good Friday to be read on this, the last Sunday of the Church
Year and on a day so nobly entitled. Christ the King, indeed.
You could hardly find a sharper contrast than to consider
Jesus’ earthly coronation against what we saw a few months ago. Jesus, declared by Pilate to be King of the
Jews, was treated as anything but. He was whipped and beaten. The authorities
had plotted to have Jesus arrested and killed, His own fellow countrymen and
religious leaders turning against the One they claimed to be waiting for because
He didn’t meet their expectations and threatened their own power and standing.
Law and order was exchanged for expediency and timeliness. First crowned with
thorns and wrapped in an old, purple robe, He was stripped naked, His clothes
stolen to become a gambler’s prize. His throne was a rough-hewn wooden cross
which first He had to carry, then was nailed to before being hoisted into the
air. He hung in shame and humility. Crowds of passersby mocked him, their cries
joining with the soldiers who made sure no one tried to help or conduct a
rescue. Even His mother could only look on with horror while His Heavenly
Father remained silent to His Son’s plea. When He cried with thirst, a sponge
of vinegar was offered. And, then He died, a fact noted by one soldier in
particular who confessed Jesus as the Son of God.
Kings are supposed to reign with power and authority,
soldiers and servants standing by to do His majesty’s bidding, to kill those
they are told to kill and do what they are told to do. Kings don’t associate
with commoners, they rule over them. Kings fight to live and maintain power and
control. Kings are kingly. Jesus was anything but kingly. Kings aren’t supposed
to reign from crosses. Kings aren’t supposed to be betrayed by closest allies.
Kings aren’t supposed to be sacrificed. Kings aren’t supposed to be humiliated
by their own.
Yet, this is exactly why He came to earth, setting aside His
Divine Kingship to become the least of all. He did not come to be served but to
serve and give His life for man. He didn’t come merely to rule politically in
time but to rule into eternity. He did not come to conquer an unwelcome
political government. He came to conquer the eternal enemies of sin, death and
the grave. He didn’t come to force peoples and nations into submission. He came
to rescue and redeem then from a life of damning bondage. To do all of this, He
came to die, trading His life for those whom He created, those whom He loves
with an unending love – even, those who then and now reject His kingship.
Jesus, though He died, also rose, conquering sin’s
stranglehold on man, the grave’s terror over death, and satan’s lies toward the
Christian conscience. When Christ rose Easter morning, there was no doubt that
this Jesus, whom the world mocked saying, “Hail, King of the Jews,” is in fact
the King of Kings and Lord of Lords who ruled before the world began and who
will rule when the heavens and earth will be renewed and restored, creation
returned to the wholeness it had before the separation of the fall.
We’re not there, yet. We see Him, now, in His glory, with
eyes of faith – albeit dimly. Because He died, we shall live. Because He rose,
we shall rise. On that great day of our own resurrection, we will see Him fully
resplendent with our own resurrected and whole and holy eyes.
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