H. Michael Brewer
Crescent Springs Presbyterian
22 November 2005
FIT FOR A KING
Colossians 1:11-20
The passage in which Paul writes to the Colossians about the sovereignty of Christ has always
reminded me of the Hallelujah Chorus. “For the Lord God omnipotent reigneth forever and ever…
King of Kings forever and ever! And Lord of Lords forever and ever! Hallelujah, hallelujah!”
Even the choirs of heaven sing the same theme: “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom
of our Lord and of his Christ, and he shall reign forever and ever… To him who sits upon the throne
and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!”
We believe one reason the apostle wrote to the church at Colossae is because the Christians there
were being tempted to take up angel worship. So Paul writes to assure them that God has exalted Jesus
Christ above every power on earth or in heaven—angels included—and that God in Christ alone
deserves worship and loyalty.
For Christ is the first-born of creation. If we didn’t have the rest of the New Testament to guide us,
that expression might make us think that Christ was the first being created by God. But Christ was not
created; Christ was begotten of the Father and has existed from all eternity. No, the phrase first-born of
creation refers not to Christ’s origin but to his authority. In the ancient world the first-born son had
special rights of inheritance and wielded great authority. When Paul calls Christ the first-born of
creation, he means that Jesus wields all authority over the created world.
After all, the universe was created in Christ. All things live and move within the will of Christ—within
the realm of his power from subatomic particles to swirling galaxies. Even the angels of heaven—
thrones and dominions and principalities—even the angels live and move and have their being in Christ
for in Christ all things are held together, and every created thing finds its purpose in Christ and all of
creation is moving toward the goal of Christ.
And Christ is also head of the church. In Greek, the word for head may mean ruler. In that sense,
Christ is the Ruler of the church. The only reason the church exists is to carry out the will of Christ. But
head can also mean source. The life of the church began in Christ and our continuing life flows from
Christ. Thus, Jesus both commands the church and empowers the church to fulfill his commands.
But still Paul isn’t finished, for Christ is also the Lord of the New Creation. He is the first-born from the
dead, the first of a vast family who will rise from the grave. Christ is the beginning of a new world, a
new universe, in which we are brought home to God and restored according to God’s eternal purposes
for us.
Paul didn’t dwell on these matters because the Colossians had asked for abstract theology. Quite
the contrary, the Colossians needed practical help for the daily living of their faith, and that is precisely
what Paul has given to them—and us. When we ponder who Christ is in his greatness and his eternity
and his sovereignty, we are reminded of what we owe to such a lofty Lord.
What do we owe to Christ? First, Christ deserves our worship. We owe Christ the praise of daily
thanksgiving in our personal prayers and the corporate worship of the family of Christ gathered on the
Lord’s Day.
Several centuries ago a European nobleman built a magnificent church to leave as a legacy to the
local people he loved. When the building was opened for the first time, the townspeople were stunned
by the beauty of the building—vaulted ceilings, stunning stained-glass windows, a mahogany pulpit,
hand painted murals. No expense had been spared, but apparently one detail had been overlooked:
there were no lights in the church. When someone asked about the oversight, the nobleman smiled and
pointed to the small shelves built into every pew.
“When you come to this house of praise, bring a lamp with you from your home. The place you sit
will be lighted for you and the people around you. But if you aren’t here, that place will be dark.”
Whenever one of God’s people fails to join the worship of the risen Christ on the Lord’s Day, the
light of that presence is darkness, the voice of that praise is silence, and the honor that belongs to Christ
is emptiness. Christ deserves our worship.
Christ also deserves our trust. He has proven often enough that we can rely on him no matter what.
Sir Wilfred Grenfell, a medical missionary in Labrador, was the guest at a dinner party one evening and
he told about the time he found himself adrift on an ice floe, floating out to sea.
“What did you do?” someone asked.
“First, I killed my sled dogs,” said Grenfell, “an act of mercy for the poor frightened animals. Then I
wrapped myself in their hides and took a nap.”
“How could you possibly sleep in such a terrifying situation?” he was asked.
Grenfell said, “There was nothing to be afraid of. I had done what I could and the rest was in God’s
hands. What safer place, what more secure place, could we hope for than to lie down in God’s hands?”
We worry so much. We fret so often. We live with fear as a constant companion. And why? Are
we not the children of God? Hasn’t our Savior overcome death and risen to the highest place where he
rules over all things? If God is truly God and we are truly the children of God, what can undo us?
A couple of years ago when I was in Scotland with Bethany, I came upon a prayer passed down from
the 6th Century Irish monk Columba who risked the wild seas in a leather boat, faced the relentless
elements, and braved barbarian kings so tht he might plant the cross of Jesus in the pagan land of
Scotland. He left this prayer behind:
Alone with none but thee, my God
I journey on my way.
What need I fear, when thou art near
O king of night and day?
More safe am I within thy hand
Than if a host didst round me stand.
If we cannot trust Christ, there is no one to trust.
And Christ deserves our loyalty and obedience. It is all well and good to declare that Christ rules the
universe, rules the church, rules the New Creation that is coming to be. But for each of us the crucial
question is, Does Christ rule me? We confess that Christ reigns over the cosmos, but can we also
confess that he reigns in our lives?
This is no idle question. It demands an honest response. This is the one question we dare not leave
unanswered. Have I given myself to Christ—my Source, my Savior, my Lord—or have I not?
When the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius destroyed the city of Pompeii in the 1st Century, the frightened
citizens fled in every direction. Some sought shelter underground. Others climbed into the hills or ran for
the sea. When the city was excavated many centuries later, the remains of a Roman sentinel were found
at the city gate. While others panicked, he died at his post, still grasping his spear. While the earth
shook, while gouts of flame seared the sky, while ashes and cinders fell like burning sleet, he did his
duty. He remained where his captain had placed him.
Surely Christ deserves as much loyalty as Caesar. Blessed is the Christian who is obedient to the
end. Blessed is the believer who knows that “Christ is not valued at all until he is valued above all”
(Augustine).
What does it mean to enthrone Jesus Christ as Lord and King and Ruler in your life? C. S. Lewis
explains it like this in Mere Christianity (page 205):
“I think that many of us, when Christ has enabled us to overcome one or two sins that were an
obvious nuisance, are inclined to feel that we are now good enough. He has done all we wanted him to
do, and we should be obliged if he would leave us alone. But the question is not what we intended
ourselves to be, but what he intended us to be when he made us...
“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can
understand what he is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on.
You knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised.
“But presently he starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem
to make sense. What on earth is he up to? The explanation is that he is building quite a different house
from the one you thought of -- throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up
towers, making courtyards.
“You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage, but he is building a palace. He
intends to come and live in it himself.”
That is what is means to confess Jesus as Lord and Ruler of my life. It means I make myself
available to built into a mansion of such purity and such holiness and such righteousness that I become a
fit dwelling place for a king—for the King—for the King of Glory!
Soli Deo Gloria!