Christ the King

Sermon text for November 23, 2008:
John 18:33-37
Preached at Thornton Presbyterian Church, Thornton, Colorado

A praise hymn says, “He is exalted, the King is exalted on high” and this morning we will sing, “Crown him with many crowns, the lamb upon his throne.” The image of Christ the King is probably as old as Christian theology itself. Yet in some ways it is an image with which you and I might struggle. As Protestant Americans our ancestors rejected both the monarch who ruled in England and the one who ruled in Rome. So perhaps it is difficult for us to speak of Christ the King.

In Israel’s far distant past they had no king. As they entered into the Promised Land, God created something brand new that the world had never before seen. As originally conceived, Israel was a completely egalitarian society. In the Promised Land each person had a birthright and no one had authority over anyone else. If God had an issue with the people, or if there was something important for them to know, God raised up persons known as “judges” to speak to the people. We know the names of some of these Judges well: they included people like Deborah, Gideon, Samson and Samuel.

But the idea of an egalitarian society, with no human in charge, was frightening. The Israelites looked at the neighboring nations and saw that all of them were ruled by a king and God’s people began to clamor for a king of their own. They insisted that Samuel appoint a king to rule over them.

God experienced the peoples’ desire for a king as a rejection, and told Samuel to anoint a king, but first to warn the people about the ways of kings. This is what Samuel told them: A “king will take your sons and appoint them to his chariots…” Some will be in the army, others will serve on the king’s farms, and in the king’s palace. He will take “one tenth of your grain and your vineyards and give it to his officers … and you will be his slaves.”

God’s original intention was for an egalitarian society ruled only by God, but a life of freedom was too frightening, and the Israelites traded freedom in God for the bondage of a king.

Today, on the last Sunday in the Christian year, we celebrate King Jesus, and taking an image from the Book of Revelation we sing, “Crown him with many crowns, the Lamb upon his throne.” But the image of King Jesus is probably largely unexamined by Protestant Americans. And the possibility threatened Pontius Pilate twenty centuries ago. When Jesus stood before him, Pilate asked, “Are you the King of the Jews?” It was a fair question.

By the time of his interrogation before Pilate, Jesus had probably been up all night. He had endured unspeakable humiliation that included betrayal, an arrest, a mock trial, as well as insults, and beatings.
Archeologists believe they have found the house of Caiaphas, the High Priest who presided over Jesus’ trial on the night of his arrest. I have been in the dungeon where criminals like King Jesus were held. It is dark, dusty, and damp. And like the stable in Bethlehem, it is not the kind of place where one would expect to find a king.

So on the day Jesus stood before Pilate he looked more like a vagabond than a king. The irony was not lost on Pilate, and I suspect that he was both fearful and amused when he asked, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus took the question seriously and asked, “Do you ask this on your own or did others tell you about me?” No one ever dared to interrogate Pilate, so he brushed aside Jesus’ question with another question of his own. “I am not a Jew am I? Your own people have handed you over to me. What have you done?”

Jesus answered, “My Kingdom is not of the world … As it is my Kingdom is not from here.” So now we and Pilate know, Jesus is King. But he is not the kind of king which anyone expected. King Jesus is very different from the tyrannical king anticipated in First Samuel.

The kings of Israel, like monarchs everywhere, ruled by intimidation. They conscripted young people into the army, and confiscated the peoples’ wealth to finance the kingdom. Pilate himself was a great intimidator. His word was law and it was backed up by the Roman army.

But Jesus has a vision of leadership which is not based on fear and intimidation. Instead of conscripting people, Jesus invites us to volunteer for service out of loyalty and love. Perhaps the most poignant picture of the reign of Jesus is found in the gospel of John. On the last evening Jesus spent with his disciples they were all together in the upper room when Jesus stripped down, took a towel and a basin, and began to wash their feet.

Imagine that! A king serving and loving his subjects instead of demanding that they serve him. Imagine a king on his knees, carefully washing his subjects’ feet. Now we know why Jesus told Pilate that his kingdom was not of the world. It is not that the kingdom exists in heaven instead of on earth. The Kingdom of Jesus is based on a concept that leaders like Pilate will never understand.

King Jesus expended every resource he had, including his own life to serve his people. Now you and I must decide if Jesus is the kind of King that we can serve – not in some way off distant time or space but right here and right now.

King Jesus does not demand that we follow and he does not rule through intimidation or fear. He simply invites us into the Kingdom saying, “Come, follow me”.

Copyright © 2008 by Dwight R. Blackstock

Where Does My Help Come From?

Sermon text for November 2, 2008:
Psalm 121
Preached at Valverde Presbyterian Church, Denver, Colorado

“I lift my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from?” I think that the Psalmist must have felt about mountains the way most of us do. Israel does not have mountains like our Colorado Mountains, but surely the Psalmist knew about the ragged and rugged peaks of Judea. And when he looked into the mountains he found strength. Among the peaks he sensed something eternal, strong, lasting, brutal, and serene. If he could find God anywhere surely it was in the high places where the vistas seemed to go on forever. “I lift my eyes unto the hills.” Surely the Psalmist felt about mountains the way many of us do.

We are not sure what the context for today’s Psalm is, but we can guess that the writer is going through some kind of inner turmoil. Maybe he has a difficult personal problem that defies resolution, or perhaps the nation is experiencing a time of unrest and the people are afraid and anxious. What we do know is that the Psalmist is experiencing a time of uneasiness and that he needs divine assurance. As a part of his search for God, he lifts his eyes to gaze upon the mountains.

Almost every fall my wife and I join friends in the mountains around Fairplay. This is one part of Colorado that makes me feel especially close to God. Coming over Kenosha Pass, we see high plains surrounded on all sides by rocky peaks that climb high above the timber line. The wide open expanse of grass gives me a feeling of freedom while the peaks speak to me of eternity, strength, and stability. When I need help I often lift my eyes to the mountains, and I marvel that the One who created the Rocky Mountains also holds us in the palm of his hands.

The Psalmist looked upon the mountains in a time when he was in need of assurance and courage and asked rhetorically, “From where does my help come?” The question is rhetorical because he already knows the answer, “My help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth.”

Perhaps this is a most basic statement of faith. Help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth. Unlike some of Israel’s neighbors who worshipped nature, the Psalmist did not believe that the mountains themselves were his help, they only pointed to the One who made them. The Psalmist found help from the One who created the mountains because they reminded him of the strong, eternal God. This God, who rooted the mountains so that nothing in nature can make them fall, also enabled believers to stand tall no matter what troubles life brings. By faith the Psalmist lived a victorious life when others seemed defeated.

The God whom the Psalmist finds by looking into the mountains is ever vigilant and never “slumbers nor sleeps.”

Almost every year my wife and I take one of our grandchildren to Ghost Ranch, a Presbyterian Conference Center in Northern New Mexico. Ghost Ranch is nestled in the kind of terrain that the Psalmist saw when he “looked into the hills”. The mountains are multi-colored, ragged, rugged, and gracefully beautiful all at the same time. In this place, maybe more than any other, I feel secure in the arms of the One “who neither slumbers nor sleeps.”

Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth; from the beauty of God’s creation; from brothers and sisters in faith who care for me and for one another. My help comes from sharing the elements of bread and wine which God provides to nourish our souls.

Friends, when you grow weary or anxious look into the hills, look to the mountains, and remember our ever vigilant, eternal God who neither “slumbers nor sleeps.”

Copyright © 2008 by Dwight R. Blackstock