A few weeks ago, I had the immense privilege of having some distinguished visitors to my church: King Charles III and Queen Camilla. The experience was everything you might expect. It was electric in atmosphere, a little bit pompous but tastefully polished—from the Bible readings to the hymn lyrics, and everything in between. The experience led me to reflect deeply on the King of kings, the Lord Jesus. We welcomed a majestic person—arguably, one of the most majestic in the world!—to our church. How can it be that afterward, I was left more in awe of Jesus than ever? More starkly struck by how much greater he is, than even the greatest of earthly kings?
Perhaps you might come on this journey of awe with me.
Lauded Then Reviled
“God save our gracious King”, the royalists outside shouted, queueing with flags and bouquets. It reminded me of the crowds who lauded our King Jesus as he entered Jerusalem. If there’d been iPhones, everyone would have been clambering over each other to get a selfie with Jesus. With a twinge of guilt, I remembered how three days after Jesus was heralded by the crowds, he had not a single friend and was led “like a lamb that is led to the slaughter” (Is 53:7).
With a touch of sadness I think of how full our church was—every man and his dog had turned up for this special occasion. I was so excited for my friends who were snapped by the press: captured in the present of royalty! Would I have been so excited to be seen, if snapped by the Jerusalem Press, with bleeding Jesus the night before his death?
A few hours after the royal visitation our evening congregation sang:
See him in Jerusalem
walking where the crowds are.
Once these streets had sung to him,
now they cry for murder
The question is not whether we will stand with a celebrity king, but rather will we stand with a hated, mocked king? Although St. Thomas’ was the place to be on that Sunday, the same church building is ordinarily filled with the glorious royalty of the true King, shining in unseen splendour (2 Cor 4:6–7).
The King Who Served
Inside the church building, the poignancy was palpable. “Kings will shut their mouths because of him” we read in Isaiah. A servant “so disfigured beyond that of any human being”, “despised and rejected by mankind”, one who “bore our suffering”, “was pierced for our transgressions” (Is 52:14; 53:3–5). No extra cushion on the pew for King Jesus. No bodyguards lining the walls, straight-faced. No, only soldiers smashing nails into his wretched hands and feet. My heart raced at the irony. Jesus is unlike any other king. One day, King Charles will shut his mouth in the presence of Jesus.
More humbling still, is to think that Jesus has looked at us, has known our ugly and selfish hearts, and poured out his life for us in love so we can be saved from God’s wrath! With all due respect to His Majesty, the servant of Isaiah 53 was so unlike the king I saw at church a few weeks ago. King Charles does not know me, nor does he likely wish to. To be frank, if he really knew me, he would understandably pretend he didn’t! So is it not the most beautiful mystery that the one most worthy of worship is the one who so willingly served, by giving “his life as a ransom for many” (Mk 10:45)?
See the King who made the sun
and the moon and shining stars.
Let the soldiers hold and nail him down
so that he could save them.
The Power of Immortality
On that Sunday, I saw a very well-dressed man, only a few metres from where I was leading the singing. But he is just a man. An ill man, in fact, who, even if he should recover, will still die eventually. And he will stay dead, because that’s happens to human kings. But Jesus was so powerful that he looked death squarely in the eye, in all its horror, and defeated it.
I realised afresh that the world is dangerously askew in its praises. Cute wee Georgie practiced her curtsy for hours to show appropriate honour to Charles and Camilla, but in the end, he has no power over what really matters. My heart broke again that so many in our world continue with their heads in the sand, believing that the best they can hope for is a brief brush with royalty after queuing for ages outside a church building or some other venue. What they don’t fully realise is that the King of the whole world has come to us all, not in ceremony and grandeur, but in self-giving humility.
