Who is Your King?

Sermon for Palm Sunday

Sermon for Palm Sunday

Main Text(s): Zechariah 9:9-13, Luke 19:28-40

When he was elected President in 1932, Franklin Roosevelt promised he would save America from the Depression. “This is preeminently the time to speak the truth, the whole truth, frankly and boldly,” he declared. “Nor need we shrink from honestly facing conditions in our country today. This great Nation will endure as it has endured, will revive and will prosper. So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance. In every dark hour of our national life a leadership of frankness and vigor has met with that understanding and support of the people themselves which is essential to victory. I am convinced that you will again give that support to leadership in these critical days.”

Roosevelt imposed sweeping progressive reforms and plunged the United States into World War II. His autocratic style of governance earned him four terms as President—the most in our nation’s history. It goes without saying that President Roosevelt was popular with the people. Though he came from privilege, he appealed to the common man. He understood their problems and wanted to help them. This was a man who was stricken with polio at a young age. He viewed it as a weakness, but he wasn’t going to let his affliction stop him from leading the nation through very dark times. Whenever he gave a speech in public, he didn’t appear to be in any pain. In fact, you wouldn’t have known his legs were weak. But while Roosevelt preached the gospel of recovery, he interned millions of Japanese-Americans in concentration camps and became best friends with Josef Stalin, the Soviet dictator.

This is not to disparage President Roosevelt in any way. I’m merely pointing out that we idolize our President. We tend to think of him as a “god” who works wonders with his fancy words and larger-than-life personality. He’s taken on the identity of a celebrity who’s more in tune with the fads of the day than he is with public policy. He makes policy decisions based on Facebook posts and Twitter feeds when they should be made in the halls of Congress. He listens to the radical when he should be listening to the common man. Such is the current state of 21st century politics, when one’s personal identity is more important than other, more pressing issues, such as national security or the economy. The President has no choice but to listen to the voice of the radical who calls for change, while the common man is left to suffer in despair.

The “radicalism” we’re now seeing taking root in this country has its origins in the idea of progress, where man is the maker of his own destiny. In this day and age, man feels worthless because he can’t quite seem to find freedom from his everyday existence. He questions whether he’s truly gone insane. Everything he says and does is scrutinized; his existence is contingent upon whether or not he conforms to certain standards which don’t support his worldview. Such standards may not fit his person, but he’s forced to accept them anyway, even if they violate his conscience. What is man to do if he can’t think on his own terms? What is man to do if he can’t be himself in a world that’s trying to make him into something he’s not?

I think what we’re dealing with today as a society and culture is this notion that I decide what’s best for me, not what’s best for me and my neighbor. One’s political decisions are based purely on self-interest, and how the President’s policies affect one’s own being in the world. Who cares about the person living next door? As long as the President speaks for me, that’s all I care about. Well, I’d hate to break it to you, but the President speaks for everyone. He isn’t limited to just one person, or group of people. He represents the entire country. And when you have a country vested solely in the interests of a select group of people, then inevitably, it’s going to collapse. To prevent such a collapse, a certain balance of power must be maintained. This means everyone must come together for the common good, and not be so vested in their own self-interests. You hear all the time about politicians who want to give away free stuff, or cut Social Security benefits. And you say, “How do these policies affect me?” As well you should. These policies do affect you. But what about the person living next door? Do they affect him any? Yes. Because what comes out of Washington and the State government doesn’t only affect you as an individual, it also affects anyone who calls him- or herself an “American.”

So, when Jesus is referred to as a “king,” we should really think about what this means. Is he king only for you, or for me? Is he the king of everyone? I’d like to think Jesus would be everyone’s king. But not everyone thinks of him as a king. Some think of him as a far-left radical who challenged a corrupt political and religious institution and was executed for it. Some think of him as a wise prophet and holy man who promised healing to the ill and infirm. Still others think of him as a cosmic judge who will come again to avenge God and punish his enemies. Whatever you may think about Jesus, it has serious implications. If you think of him as a radical who calls for the dismantling of corrupt social, political, and religious institutions, consider how that will affect the common man. If you think of him as a holy man and prophet, consider how that will affect a person of privilege, or one who holds power. If you think of him as a cosmic judge who’s ready to lay down the gauntlet, think about how that will affect those who live in fear of ridicule. How we see, understand, and talk about Jesus has implications that are far greater than any church or denomination. 

Which is why Luke is so focused on difference and seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary. For when you see something ordinary, like a flower, there’s beauty in it, if you’re willing to see the flower for its beauty, and not for its specific purpose or function—decorating your house, or showing affection toward a loved one. When you see someone who’s different, or who functions outside the acceptable norms of society, you’ll find he or she is just as human as you are. So it is with Jesus. When you see him for who he truly is—the Son of God, King in Jerusalem—then suddenly, things have meaning, and you’re no longer left wondering if he’s the real deal. It doesn’t matter what the culture says he is, or what the elites believe he is. What matters is who he says he is and why he came into the world.

For Luke, things aren’t always what they seem. If you think a tax collector can’t be saved, you’re wrong. If you think a leper can’t be cured of his disease, you’re wrong. If you think a carpenter’s son can’t be crowned king while riding into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey, you’re wrong. This is why Jesus is special, why his public ministry is so significant, because he challenges us to rethink the status quo. In Luke’s day, Roman emperors were thought of as gods who were sent from heaven to save mankind from divine judgment. Luke’s audience had this expectation of Jesus. They thought Jesus was this cosmic king who would save man not only from himself, but from the wrath of God. 

Of course, as you well know, Jesus didn’t meet these expectations. He was meek and humble. He wasn’t interested in power or privilege or violence, only serving God. He was committed to doing his Father’s will and serving his fellow man. And when he didn’t meet the people’s expectations, they had him executed. What does this say about human beings when they hear of a Savior who will come and save them, but then have him killed? It says that we’re only interested in what the Savior does for us, not what he does for our fellow man. When a nation and people hope and pray for a political figure to come and save them from destruction, it says a lot about who they are. Political figures don’t save anyone; only God saves. Political figures are only concerned with special interests; God is concerned with everyone’s interests.

I think we need to have a serious discussion in our churches and our communities about how we perceive political figures. They aren’t saviors sent down from heaven to rid our country of its ills. No politician is going to grant you free healthcare benefits for life, or make abortion illegal. So why not lean on the one who is all things, and does all things? Why not trust the judgment of the one who can put both body and soul in hell? God is the one you should turn to for hope and comfort, not senators, representatives, or presidents. God can save you; they cannot. 

Charles Dickens opens his novel A Tale of Two Cities with these words: 

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

He was writing at a time of great political upheaval. Great Britain was the most feared country in the world—an empire that controlled nearly the entire globe. France was on the verge of collapse, about to descend into a violent political revolution after the French people had overthrown their king. “The king doesn’t represent us,” they said, “he only cares about himself and his reputation.” So they chopped off his head and instituted a reign of terror, going after anyone who didn’t support the revolutionary ideals of fraternity and brotherhood. Dickens was warning his readers about the implications of political revolution. It really doesn’t solve anything; it only plays into the hands of radicals who desire to overthrow what they perceive to be corrupt political systems. But the hope that comes from revolution is resurrection. A country that dies in the throes of revolution is reborn, its reputation restored. The same goes for human beings. When a human being dies, the hope is that he’ll be born again into new life. This is God’s promise to us, and the one Jesus sought to fulfill. But, for that promise to become a reality, one must recognize that it can only come about through Jesus, the one who is Lord and Sovereign over all. As he says to Martha, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whosoever believes in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever lives and believes in me will never die.” If you believe this, then you must submit to Jesus as your king, and he will grant you eternal life!

In our country, some believe these aren’t the “best of times.” But they’re not the “worst of times,” either. There’s no doubt that we’ve had dark periods in our history. But we’ve overcome them before, and we’ll overcome them again. Overcoming the darkness within ourselves begins at the crucifixion, at the foot of the cross, which is where Jesus was headed on route to Jerusalem. There were dark times ahead for Jesus. He was about to be executed as a criminal for inspiring a revolution. And that’s what the people wanted; it’s what the people had hoped for. Jesus would come and save them from the Romans. Sadly, they couldn’t see him for who he truly was—a humble servant who had come to preach the kingdom of God. And he went to the grave having accomplished what he set out to do, although no one believed him… until after the resurrection. Will it take the resurrection for you to see Jesus for who he truly is, or do you accept the results of his election as the Son of God? The choice is yours.