How to Follow Christ, the Merciful King: Sermon for Christ the King Sunday.

Following Christ, the Merciful King.

They said, “We can’t have him corrupting all these innocent people, so let’s kill him.” Then they arrested him, and they crucified him. That is the reading for the celebration of Christ the King. 

The church year seems to culminate with death, instead of the light and hope of Easter. Most good music steadily builds towards a crescendo. Yet the church year does not end with Easter, Pentecost, or the eschaton. It ends with darkness covering the land and Jesus dying the death of a criminal.  

I would have bypassed this passage in Luke and jumped to John’s Revelation; “I saw the Christ seated on a throne surrounded by the saints.” That is my vision of a king. 

What if I have it wrong and this passage teaches us what it really means for Christ to be king and God’s call for us to follow him?

The Gospel reading emphasizes a contrast between God’s ways and the ways of the world. It’s about the contrast between royalty and servanthood. Today unveils the difference between self-righteousness and mercy. Today is about the distinction between a throne and a cross.

What I want to preach about today is following Jesus, what that means, and how we do it:

Following Jesus means choosing mercy instead of severity. 

Let me give a disclaimer about today’s sermon. For three years, I’ve studied mercy and how it combats religious shame. Mercy is an overlooked practice! We speak of God’s mercy in the liturgy, yet our seminaries don’t teach a pastoral theology of mercy. The word does not even appear the canons of discipline.

Our rules and canons for discipline are longer than the Gospel of Mark

By mercy, I don’t mean what my dear grandmother said to me when I was four and painted a white streak down the back of my white cat. “Mercy… help him, Lord.”

By mercy, I mean adultery. John said they caught and threw her at the feet of Jesus. “Let the sinless throw the first stone.” — “Apparently they aren’t as holy as they act. Go in peace, my daughter.”

By mercy, I mean the deliberate humiliation of a family. Yet Luke said the prodigal son returned. The boy’s father saw his walking home in repentance, “Is that my son? Yes, my God, it is. He’s alive. I can tell it’s him by the way he walks.” He hugged him and said,  “Come here boy, I love you.” Probably followed by, “Whew, you smell bad. You need a bath.”

Following Jesus means choosing mercy. Mercy means opening the self (the heart, the center of our emotions) to another’s sin, pain, and their wounds, then choosing leniency on them and for their benefit. 

By mercy, I mean Jesus prayed for the soldiers who crucified him. As they mocked and tortured him, he prayed, “Father, forgive them because they just don’t understand.” Some last words Jesus ever said were merciful, “Forgive them.” He chose forgiveness over punishment. My inclination is to pray, “God, avenge me and show them they were wrong!” It’s hard to pray, “Forgive…” 

When I was a chaplain, I did all the marriage counseling… Once a couple continually said harsh things to one another during our sessions. Things like, “He needs to learn how to communicate,” and, “She needs to learn how to respect me and not call a handyman before asking if I can fix it.” They kept saying, “I’ll forgive you, but I won’t forget this.” So I wrote on the whiteboard, “Things Jesus never said… “I’ll forgive you, but I’m not forgetting.” 

Following Jesus to the cross means putting aside severity and selfishness, even when we’re right, and showing mercy even when we feel justified.

God is merciful to us, may we be merciful to ourselves and others.

Following Jesus also means choosing the role of a servant. 

He didn’t speak to the soldiers or the thieves as Pilate, as Herod, or as the high priest Caiaphas. He spoke as a shepherd. 

Jesus proved again and again that God operates differently than we do. Earlier in Luke, the disciples argued about “who was the greatest.” Jesus said, “When will y’all get it? Those are the things that politicians, the 24-hour news channels, worry about.” “If you want to be great, you must be willing to become the servant of all.”

A ministerial mentor in a different denomination gave me a towel on the occasion of my ordination to the priesthood. He told me, “Jesus didn’t lead with a PowerPoint, a seminary style lecture, a systematic theology, or even a bible. He modeled leadership when he washed the disciples’ feet and dried them with a towel.”

What my friend meant is Jesus was a servant. He washed the mud, and the ugliness, and the contents of the streets off of their feet. He metaphorically put his hands in their unsanitary journey and washed their sins. That sounds like the job of a servant.

Jesus also showed us that servanthood means inclusion. He never retreated from the outcasts. He wasn’t afraid of leprosy, adultery, deceit, blind eyes, deaf ears, “those people” the gentiles, tax collectors, zealots, alcohol addicts, the possessed, or the unclean. He even included the soldiers and the thieves. He chose death to show us life.

Following Jesus means flipping the roles of our natural inclinations. 

Christ the King: The Merciful One

So, why is Christ the King the day we read the crucifixion narrative? I can’t answer that for you, but I can tell you what it means for me. 

It means Jesus is the savior, and I’m not! In fact, I’m the leper. I’m the blind man. I’m the woman caught in adultery. I’m prodigal. I’m the thieves. I’m the soldiers. Today means that Rian has failed and that Rian is guilty of missing the mark of love.

A few hundred years ago, the king of England often visited the prison. He listened to the prisoner’s stories to see if any deserved freedom. One day he listened to every prisoner proclaim his innocence, as they always did. They all told him how they were there unjustly, how someone framed them, how it was a lie. 

The king asked a young man, “What’s your crime, son?” He said, “Your Majesty, I stole bread from the guards to feed my sisters. I released the gate behind me, and it fell on a cart filled with royal wine. I did it, and I’m here because I’m guilty.”

The king told the jailor to open the door, and he said, “Son, walk with me, we’re leaving.” 

The jailor said, “Your Majesty, why are you freeing him when he’s the only one who confessed his guilt? Everyone else claims their innocence.”

The king said, “Well, we can’t have him corrupting all these innocent people, now can we.” 

Amen. 

Poem.