Throne [Christ the King - Matthew 25:31-46]

 The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Matthew 25:31-46

 

Throne

 

It is a funny place for a throne.  There, surrounded by the bustle of a bleating flock, sits the King.  Sheep and goats milling around in his royal presence.  The mess before him is considerable.  The odor: even more considerable.   

 

Typically, a throne is situated in a palace – surrounded by marble floors, arched entryways, dazzling fixtures.  The odors wafting through that place far surpass, in delight, the scent of the sheepfold.  Cinnamon and citrus, perhaps frankincense and myrrh.  And servants, so that the king need never dirty his precious hands.   

 

Israel did have a celebrated tradition of shepherd kings.  But though the image loomed large in the hearts of the people, mostly it was just about David.  He was the one called from the fields, anointed in his work clothes, the holy oils streaking down his dusty face. 

 

It was an idyllic, encouraging depiction.  David was a king created in the image of the commoner.  Insignificant in most of the obvious ways and yet possessing the gifts to ascend, beyond the state of tribe and family, to the top.  He was a real rags to riches story.  And he gave the nation, and its people, hope.

 

But despite the precious memories and the stubborn nostalgia, David did leave the fields.  He left to become their king.  And king is not one of those jobs that supports bi-vocational pursuits.  He moved into a glorious palace and he, at times, let the power go to his head. 

 

David and his throne did not remain in the fields.  He did not stay with the sheep.  In fact, in a stunning prophetic confrontation, the prophet Nathan reminded King David that he, at his worst, devoured his own lambs.  Like so many powerful leaders before and since.

 

But to history he felt like a good king.  He was successful in battle and skilled in politics.  And so despite some character concerns and some messy family dynamics, David is generally held in high esteem.  In part, because he could have been worse.  The biblical books of 1 & 2 Samuel, 1 & 2 Kings, and 1 & 2 Chronicles provide plenty of examples of how much worse he could have been.  His successors were mostly not great.  Political leaders are typically graded on a curve and viewed through a partisan lens.  And so, yes, history has mostly been kind to David.

 

And that is why the Messiah was expected to be the Son of David, to carry on his legacy: to rule over a united and prosperous kingdom.  That messianic expectation is why the Gospels of Matthew and Luke go to such great genealogical lengths to prove that Jesus is a descendant of the great king.  The hope was that Jesus would be the one to restore the kingdom of his father David, to rule in righteousness, to establish a reign of justice and peace.  To become Christ the King.

 

But Jesus did not accomplish the same stunning trajectory as his famous ancestor.  He did not get the rags to riches story.  He, like David, had a humble beginning.  Only Jesus never rose above it.  He never even sniffed the cinnamon perfumes of the palace.  He rode into Jerusalem as a Son of David but days later he exited the city with a cross upon his brutalized back.

 

And he was hung on that cross to die.  A crown of thorns on his head.  A purple robe obscuring his wounds.  A mocking sign announcing his treason to the world.  All of the royal trappings on display.  But only to show how far Jesus fell short of the throne.

 

Or at least of the palace.  Because in this vision from Matthew’s Gospel Jesus is on the throne.  Only the throne is in a field.  It is a funny place for a throne.  There, surrounded by the bustle of a bleating flock, sits the King.  Christ the King: in the midst of the mess.

 

It certainly doesn’t look very kingly.  And I suppose that is the point.  The divine king does things differently.  He doesn’t leave the field.  He doesn’t leave the sheep.  He stays in the mess.

 

Because that is what we need.  We don’t need to see Jesus in a sparkling palace.  We need him in the mess.  With us.  Hungry with the hungry.  Thirsty with the thirsty.  Marginalized and forsaken with the stranger.  Cold and neglected with the naked.  Forgotten and scorned with those in prison.  Huddled in the rubble with war-torn children.  Beat by the gentle, weary fists of grieving parents.  Drenched in the tears of a broken and battered world. 

 

Christ the King wears our wounds; he sees our scars; he is familiar with the warmth of our tears.  He never left for the palace.  He makes his home with us.  His throne sits in the midst of our messy world.  It is a funny place for a throne.  But it’s right where we need it to be.