H. Michael Brewer
Crescent Springs Presbyterian
21 November 2004
KING JESUS
Revelation 1:4b-8 and John 18:33-37
Today is the Sunday of Christ The King, and it is also the last Sunday of the church year, which
means that the Christian year ends in the same way that the world will end--with the recognition that
Jesus reigns in power and glory.
At least I think that’s what it means, but I confess I get mixed up trying to figure out what kind of a
king Jesus is. When I think of a ruler I think of power. That’s why I like the picture of King Jesus in
the book of Revelation.
Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven
spirits who are before his throne, and from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead,
and the ruler of the kings of the earth. To him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood,
and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion
forever and ever. Amen. Look! He is coming with the clouds; every eye will see him, even those who
pierced him; and on his account all the tribes of the earth will wail. So it is to be. Amen. ‘I am the
Alpha and the Omega,’ says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.
(Revelation 1:4b-8 NRSV)
That’s a proper king!
On the other hand, I don’t care much for the King Jesus from the trial scene in John’s Gospel.
This is a bloodshot Jesus being pushed around at spear point. The Temple guards have already
roughed him up a little, so maybe he’s got a puffy lip or a black eye, which is nothing compared to
what’s coming.
Then Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King
of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” Pilate
replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me.
What have you done?” Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were
from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But
as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” Pilate asked him, “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You
say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.
Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” (John 18:33-37 NRSV)
Jesus ends up hanging on a cross with a sign over his head that says, “King Of The Jews”, and I
guess it’s just not the kind of king I had in mind. The problem is we don’t get to pick whether we
want to serve the King of Glory enthroned in the heavens, or the Crucified King enthroned on
Calvary. Somehow Jesus is both of those kings and always will be.
When I can’t figure something out, I look for a story to help me. And I was found by two stories
this week--the kind of stories that might point in the right direction for the Sunday of Christ the King.
I’m sitting in the Presbytery meeting at Cedar Ridge Camp on Monday afternoon, and in the
opening worship the preacher has put us in small groups to discuss a Bible reading. In my group was
an Elder I had worked with before--we’ll call this guy John. John begins to tell about his experience
as a prisoner-of-war in World War II, and it’s a harrowing story.
John says, “We were kept in underground cells and we were kept isolated. The conditions were
horrible. Medical care was non-existent. We were fed once a day: a bit of uncooked rice and a raw
fish head. I lost eighty pounds. When I was finally released I had to eat through a tube for 18 months,
and I suffered from bleeding ulcers for years and years afterward.
“We were beaten often, sometimes every day, beaten with rifle butts. I had my hands broken.
My arms were broken. My teeth were knocked out.”
I say, “John, how did you hang on?”
He says, “Most of us were Christians. Even though we were kept isolated, we worked out a code
for communicating, and we’d tap out passages of Scripture to each other. The one we loved the most
was the passage we’re supposed to be talking about right now. It was Romans 8.
“We are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death,
nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor
depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus
our Lord.’“
I said, “And that got you through?”
He said, “It got some of us through. There were fourteen hundred prisoners in the camp. Eight of
us survived.”
At this point I’m outraged. I want someone to hurt those people who did the hurting. I want them
to be on the other end of the rifle butt.
And it’s as if John reads my mind--or maybe he just reads my expression--because he looks me
in the eye and he says, “Mike, it’s the strangest thing. I really can’t account for it, but through all that,
I never hated my captors. I hated what they did to us, but I never hated them. I don’t really
understand it,” John says.
But maybe I understand it. Maybe it’s King Jesus. Maybe it’s the power to overcome hate.
Maybe it’s the power to forgive the unforgivable. Maybe the power of our King enables us to live
through the worst without becoming the worst. Maybe King Jesus makes us strong enough to endure
life’s crucifixions without becoming crucifiers.
I was hoping for a King who would come on like gangbusters and punish the wicked. Oh, I still
believe in righteousness and justice, but maybe the righteousness of Christ doesn’t have all that much
in common with the anger of Mike. Maybe the justice that God will bring isn’t quite the same thing as
the revenge that I would bring.
Is Jesus the kind of King I want? All I know is that my friend John is not crippled by hatred; has
not spent his life dreaming of revenge; instead he has gotten well, raised a family, and three of his
children are medical missionaries. Not too bad. Maybe that’s the measure of our King’s power. It
always takes more power to heal than to hurt.
The other story isn’t nearly so dramatic. The day after the Presbytery meeting I get a call at home
from a fellow minister. We’ll call him Don.
Don says, “I wanted to talk to you yesterday at the Presbytery meeting, but you must have left
early.”
I said, “I did. I had to get back here for a Session meeting.”
Don says, “I left early, too. So-and-so got up to speak at the meeting, and I decided it was a
good time for me to leave. I’m so angry at that man. He’s done me a great wrong, and I can’t stand
to be around him.”
Don explained what had happened between him and this other minister, and he said, “I know he
didn’t mean to do me any harm, but that doesn’t undo the damage.”
I said, “Have you talked to him?”
Don says, “Yes, and it didn’t do a bit of good.”
“So what will you do now?”
After a moment of silence Don says, “I guess I have to forgive him. That’s why I called you.
Would you make a covenant to pray for me every day for thirty days? I’ll pray for you, too. I’m
going to need some help to forgive this guy, and I thought maybe you’d pray with me.”
And I realized that King Jesus makes us a kingdom; that is, we’re not all alone. The power of
Christ breaks loose among us when we are tapping out Scriptures in secret code or listening on the
phone or praying for one another or even struggling to forgive each other. Part of the grace of our
King is that he gives us to each other.
I promised Don I would pray for him. Then he said, “I left Presbytery several hours early because
I was so angry, and five minutes after I got home there was a phone call about one of our members
who had just been diagnosed with a brain tumor, and I went right over to sit with them. Later my wife
said, ‘You know, God used your anger to get you home in time to help this family.’“
“Can you beat that?” Don says. “Christ overruled my sin and made it serve his purpose.”
“You know, that might preach for Christ the King Sunday.”
Don laughs and says, “I’m not about to tell that story, but you’re welcome to it.”
So what kind of a King is this Jesus anyway? I can only tell you as much as I’ve figured out.
Jesus is a King with the power to sustain us and see us through, to see us through sometimes
terrible hardships and awful suffering, to see us through all the way to the other side.
Jesus is a King with the power to overcome hatred and to make forgiveness possible.
Jesus is a King with power enough to over-rule our sins, to make even our disobedience serve his
will.
Jesus is a King with enough power to rescue us from our lonely isolation and to bring us into a
kingdom of sisters and brothers, a kingdom in which our great strength is that we take turns holding
each other up--in person and in prayer.
That’s the kind of king Jesus is, and that’s the kind of power that Jesus wields in our world and in
our lives. Is this the kind of King I want--this King of grace and love and mercy? No, that’s not
always the kind of King I want, but when I’m honest with myself, I have to admit that Jesus is exactly
the kind of King I need.
Long live the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords, forever and ever!
Soli Deo Gloria!