Posted by Holly Ordway in Uncategorized | 0 Comments
Honoring Christ the King
The Feast of Christ the King is significant to me, perhaps because I didn’t grow up learning about Jesus in Sunday school, reading kid-friendly picture books about how Jesus loves me and is my best friend. Now, that’s an understanding of Jesus that’s appropriate to a child… but as adults, have we grown in our understanding of who He is? To be sure, Jesus is our friend and companion as well as our Savior, but it’s all too easy, these days, to view our Lord as “Buddy Jesus” – a righteous dude you hang out with, who’s always going to stand up for you, who will give you a pat on the back when you do a good deed or an comforting word when you’re down.
There’s another aspect to our Savior. He is our King.
What does the title “King” mean to Americans, born and raised in a democracy (and one in which our elected leaders all too often turn out to be less trustworthy and upright than the average guy)? Too little, I think.
“Christ” is the title of Jesus of Nazareth, not His last name. Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah, God’s Son and the King of the Universe. In 1 Corinthians, Paul reminds us that “God has put all things in subjection under his feet” (1 Cor 15:27). All things! Consider the visionary description of Christ the King in Revelation: on a white horse sits the one “called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges and makes war. His eyes are like a flame of fire, and on his head are many diadems, and he has a name written that no one knows but himself. He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and the name by which he is called is The Word of God” (Rev 19:11-13). Awe-inspiring… and a far cry from the soothing image idea of a tame “Buddy Jesus.”
Here we see Christ as truly the “King of kings and Lord of lords” (Rev. 19:16). It is this image of the King that we should hold in our mind as we hear Jesus’ parable concerning the final judgment.
When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. And he will place the sheep on his right, but the goats on the left. Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’ (Mt 25:31-40)
So far, so good; we can all probably think of some example of kindness or charity that we have done. It is not hard for us to imagine ourselves at the King’s right hand. That is, until the King continues in judgment:
“Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?’ Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.” (Mt 25:41-46)
“As you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to me.” There are few more terrifying phrases in Scripture. Why? In this parable, the King does not condemn the unrighteous for murder, or theft, for cruelty or for deliberately denying food, drink, or clothing to the needy. No: He condemns them for sins of omission: what they have not done.
Have we ever passed up the chance to help “one of the least of these” – not just “the poor” in the abstract, but any instance, any time, anywhere, when we turned away from one who was hungry, or thirsty, or naked, or lonely? In case we start thinking that “loving our neighbor” means doing something nice when it’s convenient for us, Jesus makes it clear: “just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another” (Jn 13:34). How did Christ love us? By willingly going to His death on the cross for us, while we were still alienated from Him.
I know that my conscience convicts me of falling short of Christ’s call to self-sacrificing love of God and neighbor. I can remind myself of all the good things that I have done and continue to do, but God knows my heart; He knows all the opportunities that I have missed, all the times when I was too busy or too tired or too caught up in my own things to help another. And yet, God is totally and utterly holy; His righteousness is perfect, not just “good enough.” His justice is total justice; He is not misled by surface appearances. He cannot be bought off.
This is Christ our King.
In the words of the Psalmist, “If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand?” (Ps 130:3). As the Psalmist well knows, no one can stand before God, trusting in his own righteousness.
What, then, can we do?
Consider what the unrighteous do in the parable. They try to argue with God. “Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty?” You can almost hear the offended tone. “If it had been brought to our attention we’d have done something – how can you blame us for not noticing?” This is the sin of pride. Those who are blind can ask for the gift of sight – or they can keep on being blind, but blindness is no excuse.
What do they do after the King explains the reason for their guilt? They say no more, but go away. This, too, is pride, or rather the flip side of it, which is despair: rather than confess their sins and ask for mercy, they go away, into eternal punishment.
And so the parable in which Jesus convicts us of our own sins of omission also shows us the way forward.
What can we do that the unrighteous in the parable do not? We can kneel before the Lord our King and say, “Lord, have mercy.”
Psalm 130 calls our attention to the overwhelming justice of God, before which none can stand – and continues:“But with you there is forgiveness, that you may be feared.” (Ps 130:4).
Forgiveness and fear; mercy and awe. The two go together. Our King is both just and merciful; His holiness convicts us of our own unrighteousness, and His death on the cross offers us salvation. Here the idea of “Buddy Jesus” is revealed as too shallow. What can a friend, even our best friend Jesus, do for us when we are faced with the overwhelming holiness of the Father and the utter failure of our own attempt to save ourselves? Not a whole lot, it seems. And so we should rejoice in being subject to the authority of Christ our King, who does what no other can do: He forgives us and clothes us in the righteousness of His blood.
Let us, then, honor Christ our King; let us kneel before His majesty; and let us say what the unrighteous in the parable do not: “Lord, have mercy upon us.”
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