Sermons

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A Different Kind of King
November 25, 2001
Pastor Dan Baumgartner

Psalm 72:1-7, 11-15

Today is the day on the church calendar we call “Christ the King” Sunday, or sometimes the “Reign of Christ” Sunday. It is the Sunday immediately preceding the beginning of Advent. The colors in the sanctuary change from the green of many weeks of “ordinary time” to the white of Christ the King Sunday . . . and then to royal purple for Advent next week. Christ the King Sunday invites us to explore one of the images of Christ we find in scripture.

Perhaps the idea of a “king” sounds somewhat archaic to you. Around the world, kings are less and less influential in political systems. Or perhaps the image of “king” just conjures up a male-dominated hierarchical structure that is less than helpful for you when thinking about God.

But let’s not be too hasty. “King” is a title, a person, an image which appears well over 3,000 times in scripture. And in Revelation, it is Jesus himself who wears on his person the words “King of kings and Lord of lords.”

If we’re going to be open to God’s Word this morning, there are at least two barriers we’ll have to overcome:

First, the basic idea of KING. Most all of us have grown up in a democracy, and have very little understanding of a monarchy. In fact, in many ways our political system developed out of a reaction against monarchs. One of the foundational elements of our democracy is a series of checks and balances which keep one person from getting too much power. Inherently, there is a belief that any one person is untrustworthy, and will eventually abuse their office. Thus they are subject to the electorate. But it is hard to put God into that democratic framework. It makes for a God who is untrustworthy . . . and who would have to run for re-election every four years! . . . But a king . . . is a much more permanent image.

Secondly, we will have to deal with the different images of kings that flash through our minds. Perhaps you think back in your history reading to France’s Louis XIV, the 17th century “Sun King,” who envisioned himself something of a god after Apollo. Louis controlled a reign of wealth, power, increasing French territories, was a great patron of the arts. Yet his reign also was one of terrible excesses, extravagant aristocracy . . . and terrible hardship on the ordinary people of his country. Or maybe you think Biblically…back to Herod the Great, the pseudo-king of Israel at the time of Jesus’ birth.

Herod on the one hand built architectural wonders the world had never seen . . . and on the other was so paranoid and suspicious that he murdered many of his supporters, including his family. In fact, there arose a saying which said, “Better to be one of Herod’s pigs than one of his sons.”

Israel had a long history with kings . . . though not its entire history. Originally, God’s people acknowledged just one Ruler . . . God Almighty. They were a PEOPLE, God’s people . . . not a nation like others. But eventually they began to demand a king, so they could “be like other nations.” And somewhat reluctantly, God allowed it. First Saul, then David, then Solomon, then many others. Though some were wise and good, there were many, many bad kings. Even good ones, like David, fell far short of the people’s ideal, abusing power, acting vindictively or ignoring God. And yet . . . it seemed that all of these never took away the longing for a good, just and godly king.

We hear echoes of that longing in Psalm 72. Some think it is a prayer of David for his son, Solomon. But I believe that it looks beyond, off into the future. And there are at least two of the roles of an ideal king are found in this Psalm:

1) The king is responsible for the cohesiveness of the community. The king was to judge rightly, enact justice, maintain peace, protect the community…to rightly exercise power.

2) The king was to provide for the needs of the whole community . . . ESPECIALLY for the poor and needy, those unable to watch out for themselves. Psalm 72 says the ideal king is to “defend the cause of the poor, deliver the need, crush the oppressor…deliver the poor and needy when they call, pity the weak and needy, save the lives of the poor, redeem them…for precious is their blood in his sight.”

Wouldn’t it be something to have a king like that? A different kind of king. A king that could be trusted, that gave himself for the people, for those in need.

By the time of Jesus, Israel had seen many power-hungry, dominating, proud kings from foreign countries rule over them. Alexander, Ptolemy, Antiochus, Caesar . . . all galloped through, dominating the landscape. An average person was of little consequence. Israel was barely a pawn on the huge chessboard of the Mediterranean.

It is no wonder that people misunderstood Jesus. They thought that perhaps he might be the next white-horse mounted warrior, one from their own ranks, bringing them back to be a mighty nation. And then He came as a servant king, bringing them back to be . . . God’s people. And so he rides into Jerusalem, in Luke 19, people shouting “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord.” And he enters . . . a very different kind of king: walking with the people, touching and healing, teaching people to pray, questioning the practice of religion and instead calling people back to God. We find him most of the time among the people Psalm 72 describes: the poor, the weak, the needy. Far from being a distant, aristocratic figure . . . this King Jesus is very different.

The Danish philospher Kierkegaard tells a wonderful parable I was reminded of this week. It’s about a king who falls in love with a poor common maiden, and desires to marry her, though she doesn’t know he is the king. Yet the king agonizes over what to do. If he reveals his royal identity, he would overwhelm here and at best she would love him out of obligation. If he hides his identity and reveals it later, it would be unfair to her and she could never trust him. And so, to woo her, the king not only puts on a beggar’s cloak . . . but quite literally gives up his kingship, for her sake.

Kierkegaard uses the parable to teach this: In Jesus, God woos us. Jesus was a different kind of king. Non-violent, self sacrificing, caring for those the world did not notice, joining those the world called insignificant. Jesus was a different kind of king.

I wonder this morning . . . if he is the king for us? His reign and rule encompass both the heart and the world. And while he does not assert his authority to take our lives by force . . . he asks us to give Him everything. The kings of the nations demanded oaths of lifetime loyalty . . . with a sword. Jesus merely says “Follow me. I will provide for you . . . with a cross.” Jesus is the king…who can be trusted. “No matter what others have done to you,” he says . . . “Trust me.” Others will tell you that you are insignificant, boring, a statistic . . . but Jesus says “You are special, full of life, unique . . . and beloved.”

Can we trust him? Will He really be with us? Even when bad things happen, can he really bring good out of them

If we choose to follow a different kind of king . . . then He make us into a different kind of people. He will be at work transforming us . . . OUT of people who focus on ourselves, on ensuring our visibility, on living our lives based on how other’s may perceive us, on trying to outshine those around us. And INTO people who can look out for others, allow others to be in the spotlight, even help them to shine. We don’t remake ourselves like that. But we follow this different kind of King . . . And like Him:

We will be concerned about the cohesiveness of our community.

We will watch for ways to encourage people, and to welcome the gifts of the many, not just the few. . . . One of the growing edges for us here at Bethany is the way in which our Sunday community is gradually merging with our Wednesday Night community. A few Wednesday Nights ago, Anne and I led worship after the dinner. There were perhaps 10 people still around, and we wanted to talk about Fear. People listed out the things they were afraid of. Then we looked at the story of Jesus calling Peter to walk on the water towards him. In that setting, I could have given the best sermon of my life, and I’m not sure people could have heard it. But we spontaneously acted out the story together instead.

I asked for volunteers, and the first person to raise their hand, I said “Come on up here.” And as he came, I said “I want you to be Jesus.” He stopped in his tracks. “You want me to be Jesus?!” Yep. Others came to be in the boat with Peter, and someone else provided the sound effects of the wind and sea. So we acted it out, and then talked about battling fear by keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus. Somehow God took it all, and used all of us fumbling around . . . to preach his word. The community came together.

If we are concerned for the cohesiveness of the community, we will look for ways to lovingly confront where there are problems, and to help resolve in ways that are clean and healing. At my daughter Dana’s school, they train kids to be Conflict Managers (never had those when I was a kid!). Literally, after training them to recognize conflicts occurring on the playground, they help the kids think through ways to get kids in conflict to talk together and come to resolution. Pretty neat. I thought, what a great job description for people in our community: Conflict Managers. Imagine people walking around here, sensitive and attuned to folks who are struggling together, helping them find ways to care for one another. . . . These things, of course, require that we KNOW the community around us . . . as the King knows us.

If we follow a different kind of king, we will be concerned about the needs of the whole community . . . particularly those less able to care for themselves. One of our great areas of growth as a faith community here is the steps we are taking in reaching out to people across economic, educational and other barriers. And at the same time, one of my great frustrations is that there are people who come to us, Wednesday Nights, Sunday mornings, during the week . . . that I don’t know how to help. People sleep on the sidewalk outside, whom I find on our front porch here. People in our midst are addicted, people are angry, unable to trust help, mentally unstable . . . I don’t know what to do with so many. I know Jesus is teaching us. I know that all are significant in his eyes, all are loved in His heart. I long to see the possibilities with his eyes. But in order to see this way, we again, have to KNOW those around us. Jesus the king knew those of little means more than those of power and influence.

And yet . . . underlying everything is our recognition that we are unable to BE the king. And so we look for opportunity to point people towards Jesus, to help them make space in their life for the King. The King who has given everything . . . and gently, patiently, lovingly . . . asks for everything in return. He is a different kind of king. He is King of kings, and Lord of lords. Amen.

This morning, I’d like to ask you to join with me in saying the Apostles’ Creed. It’s written on an insert in your bulletin. The Apostles’ Creed is an ancient way, one way, that as God’s people we affirm who it is that we follow:

I believe in God, the Father almighty,
creator of heaven and earth.

I believe in Jesus Christ, God's only Son, our Lord,
who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,
born of the Virgin Mary,
suffered under Potius Pilate,
was crucified, died, and was buried;
he descended into hell.
On the third day he rose again;
he ascended into heaven,
he is seated at the right hand of the Father,
and he will come again to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the holy catholic church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and the life everlasting. AMEN.