SUNDAY SERMON: Christ the King, a great contrast
By Rev. Stephen Baldwin
NT: Luke 23.33-43
Things aren’t always what they appear. Kerry and I went to China in college. Early on in that trip, we did homestays with families of local students. When we got to the place where I was staying and I saw the exterior of the house, I began to panic. It looked like it was next on the demolition list, in a strange country, where I couldn’t speak the language, halfway around the world. But when we walked inside, it was as if we’d been transported into an urban loft in New York–new floors, the best furnishings, and they showed us Lord of the Rings on the biggest TV I’d ever seen.
The contrast between what I saw on the outside and what I found on the inside was jarring. Things aren’t always what they appear. Contrast does that to us, right? It jars us.
We live in a time of great contrasts here today. This is the richest country in the history of the world, and we’ve spent the last month or so making sure the poorest among us have food to eat. That contrast is hard to understand. Nonetheless, you spent the weekend delivering turkeys and stuffing and mashed potatoes, and then serving a full hot meal to folks just yesterday. Thank you. Thank you for living the Gospel in this land of contrasts.
We live in a world of contrasts. There are more churches than Walmart has food products on the shelves, yet most churches are struggling to get by with smaller rolls each year.
We live in a world of contrasts. We can connect with people on the other side of the world via something small enough to fit in the palm of our hand, yet we hardly know our neighbors.
I’m not judging these contrasts; but you can’t help but observe them. Contrasts are everywhere, and they are worth observing because they teach us something. Have you ever tasted a dish that combines sweet and salty? Salted caramel or peanut butter cookies or trail mix. The contrast of sweet and salty intensifies the taste of both things, producing something altogether new. That’s why it’s important to pay attention to contrasts. Not to judge but to learn.
Today’s reading is a story of contrasts from which we can learn. It is Christ the King Sunday, when we read about Jesus’ death on the cross. How does that make any sense? Why celebrate a king by telling the story of his lowest moments, dying on the cross? Because it is a story of contrasts. And Jesus was a very different kind of king.
Think about all the contrasts in the story today. An innocent man placed on a cross in between the guilty. They mock and ridicule him, yet he asks God to forgive them.
This is a story of contrasts. The king who reigns from the cross. The son of God who gives in to Caesar. The wronged who makes all right. It is the moment when Jesus is most alone that he connects with all of humanity, by offering love and forgiveness.
Christ is a very different kind of king. He rules not by power, but by forgiveness. Not by strength, but by love. Not with violence, but with peace. Not to win, but to lose. He loses to Rome, so he can win the world.
The contrasts of Christ the King Sunday teach us that mercy is more powerful than might. Mercy for the criminals at Jesus’ side. Mercy for the soldiers who mock him. Mercy for the disciples who betray him. Mercy for the politicians who arrested him. Mercy for everyone as the King says. “Today, you will be with me in Heaven,” because that’s what a merciful king does.
The contrast of mercy in a world ruled by judgment is striking. It’s enough to stop you in your tracks and take your breath away.
Which is why, for us as Americans, Christ the King Sunday comes at a good time as Thanksgiving approaches. Because things aren’t always what they appear.
What would appear to be a middle child of holidays, stuck between Halloween and Christmas–a simple meal loaded with carbs, with a side of some football or a parade, thanks to some time off work…goes much deeper.
For one day, or perhaps for an hour or two at a family meal, we live a contrast. We come together. We break bread alongside people who are different from us. We set aside arguments and agitations. We focus on what we have, rather than what we want. We say thank you.
We don’t take much time throughout the course of our life to think about gratitude. We just do it when we think about it. But it has a deeper meaning. G. K. Chesterton described gratitude as “happiness doubled by wonder.”
Isn’t that a wonderful thought? Happiness doubled by wonder. Giving thanks is a way of life. A posture of worship. A contrast to the me-first, inward-looking, consumer-culture.
Things aren’t always what they appear. When you sit down this Thanksgiving, it’s not just a plate and whoever is around you isn’t just a neighbor. It’s happiness doubled by wonder. It’s a posture of worship. It’s a way of life that contrasts with the world around us, for we are giving thanks to Christ the King, who died that we might live. Amen.
