Christ Our King

November 23, 2025 sermon at Ascension Lutheran Church, Montreal, QC by Rev. Charles St-Onge. Text: John 18:33-38, 19:12-15.

Transcript

Charles St-Onge
Last Sunday
November 23, 2025
Jesus Is Our King

In October there were mass protests across the United States, spilling over to the rest of the western world. Organizers called them “No Kings” rallies, and there were rallies in Canada, Australia and the United Kingdom as well as the USA. Of course the problem here is that we have a King – King Charles III – and we don’t have a particular problem with him! So organizers in commonwealth countries changed the name from “No Kings” to “No Tyrants.”

Given how many Christians there are in the United States, it might have made sense to call it “No Tyrants” there as well. When I took the oath of citizenship to become an American I had to “declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty.” I asked someone before I took the oath if that meant I was rejecting Jesus. “No,” they said, “he’s a local prince, not foreign.” 

The Last Sunday of the Church Year is sometimes called “Christ the King” Sunday. Whereas our focus has always been on Jesus’ fulfilling his remaining promises, some churches focus their attention on Christ as the one to whom “all authority in heaven and on earth” has been given (Matthew 28:19-20). We’re going to do that today, and ask ourselves the question, IS Jesus our King? And if he is our king, what does that mean? 

At the end of his earthly ministry Jesus is dragged before the representative of Palestine’s King at the Moment, the Emperor of Rome. Pontius Pilate has the final say in what happens to Jesus. And what will that be? If he is a king, then he poses a direct threat to Rome. You can’t have two rival kings, thinks Pilate. So Jesus, are you a king? The king of the Jews?

Kings extract taxes from us, time from us, obedience from us. In exchange, if we are fortunate, they build us roads and schools and hospitals. They maintain law and order, punishing criminals and protecting the innocent. They wage war on their enemies and defend their kingdoms’ borders. When Pilate asks Jesus if he is the King of the Jews, that’s what he wants to know. Is that who you think yourself to be, Jesus? A King? 

Jesus’ answer is telling. “You say that I am a king.” Those are your words, not mine, says Jesus. I have come to bear witness to the truth, not to boss people around – that’s what your Emperor does, doesn’t he? I don’t collect taxes or bribes. I don’t raise capital or armies. I speak the words of the Father, words that explain who you are – fallen away – and who I have come to be – Saviour and Redeemer of the world. In your sense, Pilate, I am no king at all. 

This is what has frustrated many of the Jewish leaders. This is precisely the kind of king they want. It’s the kind of king they’ve ALWAYS wanted. “Give us a king to judge over us,” the people told the last judge of Israel, Samuel. “There shall be a king over us,  that we also may be like all the nations, and that our king may judge us and go out before us and fight our battles.” (1 Samuel 8:19-20, ESV). 

“That we may be like all the nations.” We, who were delivered by the very hand of God from slavery with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. We, whose elders ate and drank with the Lord on the Holy Mountain. We who received the Temple rites and rituals that pointed to a future Christ who would save us from our sins. We reject everything that made us special, that made us different, that made us holy. Give us a king LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. 

Given the choice, then, between this miracle working, Word-proclaiming prophet from Nazareth, and the mighty ruler of Rome with his roads and fleets and armies, the leaders of God’s own people chose Rome. “Shall I crucify your King?” The chief priests answered, “We have no king but the Emperor.” 

In the words of singer Jon Guerra, “Christ … was killed… by a common consensus / everyone screaming “Barabas!” / Trading their God for a hero / forfeiting heaven for Rome. 

Only twice in all the New Testament outside the Gospels is Jesus referred to as “king.” In 1 Timothy Paul calls Jesus “the king of the ages,” and “king of kings.” Far more frequently is he called Messiah, or Christ, or Lord. The early church had an aversion to the word King in the same way Jesus had an aversion to the word Messiah – it was too likely to be misunderstood. 

 
The more important question was not who was king, but who was God. Not who was collecting the taxes, raising the armies, and sitting on the throne, but from whom could one expect the greatest good, grace, mercy and salvation? The answer to that question was clear. From Jesus, and not from Ceasar. The phrase “Jesus is Lord” – as opposed to the King, the Emperor, Caesar being Lord – was the great cry of faith for Christians. 

What does it mean for you, that Jesus is King? Do you simply see him as Pilate did, as a rival for political power? As a threat to the world order, someone who might upset the delicate balance of life in this world? 

Do you see him as the Jewish leaders did, as the one who should govern Canada instead of Mark Carney or Pierre Poilievre? As the one fighting for confederation or an independent Quebec, as if those questions would matter to the Lord of the million galaxies? Do you want Jesus to fight your wars for you, to balance the budget, to write the criminal code? 

Or do you see him as he wants to be seen? Do you see him as the bearer of truth, the saviour of the nations, the one who governs all things not through parliaments or thrones but as the fundamental principle of all things? The one who came not to be served but to serve? The one who calls on us to take up not a sword but a towel, not a spear but a washbasin? Whose kingdom is not of this world, and will never truly be of this world until the Last Day when all the world becomes his? 

Is Jesus a king, not of land or territory, but of your heart and soul? 

In the episode of the Simpsons called “Homer the Great,” Homer Simpson joins a fraternal lodge called “the Stonecutters.” He remembers how, when he was a kid, the neighbourhood had a club designed specifically to keep him out. It was called the “No Homers” Club. A young Homer is seen staring up longingly at the clubhouse but denied entry, even though “Homer Glumpich” seems to be a member. “How come he’s allowed in,” Homer cries. “It’s called the no Homers club,” one kid responds. “We’re allowed to have one.” 

As Christians we have been set free from sin and shame and fear by Christ’s death on the cross. We are no longer under judgment but are free to serve our neighbour just as Jesus did. We fear no kings and no tyrants, no parliaments or princes. No kings. But we’re allowed to have one. And we do. And that’s Jesus. 

Amen.