The Reign of Christ (The King) Sunday
The Reign of Christ (the King) Sunday
A CASE STUDY OF “TRYING TO LIVE IN CHRIST’S REIGN”
Martin was a man of faith ... but not without his private doubts. He attended worship regularly, though if the truth be told, at times he worried about his frequency ... “every now and then everybody needs a break from Church,” he often rationalized. But when he came, he almost always was grateful he did. Long ago, as a teenager, a youth minister once told him that “getting something out of Church is 50% your responsibility – don’t worry about Jesus or the minister doing their part ... if you don’t come ready to do your part, to be surprised by God, to be changed by the Spirit, then you put Jesus at a huge disadvantage ... it’s as if you’re challenging God to make something out of nothing, when God only ever wants to help you to make something out of someone.” Martin always remembered that, so almost always came ready. Such a morning it was on that cool, cloudy Sunday in November when Martin sat in church and felt himself resisting, even hurling his own insults under his breath. “I just don’t get this King idea when it comes to Jesus. What’s the point? I’d much rather have a Companion than a King ... someone who loves me, not lords it over me.”
So what do you make of this “Christ the King” idea? Why do you suppose the church in its wisdom has set aside this concluding Sunday in our worship year to focus on the kingship, the lordship, the reign of Jesus? And perhaps even more curious, why choose this Gospel reading as the narrative to help us appreciate Jesus’ role and rule in our lives? Maybe that’s what’s bothering Martin. Maybe Martin is torn between wanting an all-powerful, sovereign God to make everything alright – every debt paid, every bruise healed, every disease vanquished, every hunger satisfied, every conflict resolved, every regret redeemed – torn between wanting a God powerful enough to make his life worry-free ... and needing a God who’s willing to be present amid the blood and gore of the Skull – a God present enough to bring peace and purpose to even Martin’s own messy life. We can only hope that Martin heard the Gospel writer’s appeal in the midst of all the gambling and sneering, the mockery and insults, the injury and suffering and dying ... in a place and time seemingly emptied of God’s grace and devoid of God’s power, Jesus finds his voice deep within his soul where God alone reigns ... and when he speaks, he FORGIVES … “Father forgive them, they don’t know what they’re doing.” Who can possibly hear Jesus’ plea? Who would ever pay attention to the dying whisper of a crucified king? Apparently, one of the criminals did, and in that moment it made all the difference in the world. And we can only hope that Martin also heard ... and like it did for the second criminal, we can only hope it has a similar effect.
Martin was a man of faith, but not without his private doubts. As the Gospel was read that Sunday morning he imagined himself standing there watching in the crowd as the crucified king was loudly ridiculed, his own silence breaking his heart. “Is this what I would have done?” he thought. And regrettably Martin suspected he knew the answer. He wouldn’t condemn or torment, but probably wouldn’t defend either … just stand there, dumbfounded. What perplexed him, though, was a gut feeling that there is really nothing to say that would alter the inevitable – Jesus was dying. And even though Martin felt some certainty that through Christ’s crucifixion any worldly understanding of Kingship was being rejected, he was uneasy with a heavenly alternative ... it just felt too easy to believe that Jesus died to rise and become the King of Heaven. And so he sat there in church dumbfounded, listening to a sermon, his own silence breaking his heart. And that’s when Martin heard it ... first from someone he least expected ... from a criminal in a Gospel story who obviously also heard Jesus’ prayer to FORGIVE ... and trusted it as a promise. And Martin felt that old familiar surge of excitement he always felt when he consciously promised God again to do his part. But what was it? What was going on? Then he heard it again - first from the criminal, the least likely ... “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And then, regardless of what the criminal may have meant in the story, Martin heard himself speak those words under his breath, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
So what effect does this momentary insight have on Martin’s life? What difference could it possibly make for him or for any of us? Perhaps it is enough to realize that whether we imagine ourselves condemning and ridiculing Jesus or just standing in silence as Jesus dies, we are forgiven, because Jesus’ prayer is in actuality God’s promise. Perhaps it’s enough to know that Jesus’ death is not the final word, and that when he rises to new life, his followers in every generation are blessed to live with his presence as our compassionate king. Perhaps it’s enough to know that Christ’s spiritual realm does have direct implications in our everyday lives, and that Christ’s reign among us is not hierarchical, from the heavens downward, but rather a spiritual partnership that expands as we reach out in Christ’s love to an ever widening circle. My guess is that’s some of what Martin began to realize. But what might not be as obvious to us is what Martin reported in the days that followed.
Martin was a man of faith, but not without his private doubts. Later that Sunday he committed to begin each day that week with this simple prayer … “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” But it wasn’t until Thursday lunch hour that he heard again Jesus’ answer, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” As he walked along the downtown street where he worked, scanning his Blackberry in clueless self-absorption, the faceless person right in front of him stumbled and fell hard to the sidewalk. Since Martin almost stepped right on him, he stopped and without thinking knelt down to help … and that’s when he realized this was not anyone he expected. Instinctively he had reached out to help lift this person back to his feet before Martin realized he held in his arms the downtrodden street person he walked past every morning week after week. He felt awkward, and ashamed, and at a loss for what to do or say next. And you can make of this what you will, but Martin is certain that’s when he actually heard it … he’s not sure where it came from … from the bruised man on the street? From one of the onlookers? From a heavenly voice or the still, small voice deep within? But the whisper was unforgettable … “today you will be with me in paradise.” And that’s precisely when Martin realized what trying to live in Christ’s reign would require from time to time.
May it be so for us all.
The Rev. Dr.