Events were chasing each other like chips in the churning rapids of a racing river. Jesus was helpless in the raging "current of events." He could scarcely keep his head above water. He was doomed to perish in cascading falls that crashed a short distance downstream. Or so it seemed to both bitter foe and disillusioned friend.

The Last Supper, the agony in Gethsemane, the betrayal and arrest, and the trial before the Sanhedrin had occurred so quickly that their recollection made the heads of the disciples spin. The Sanhedrin, jealous of his popularity and fearful of his influence, had accused Jesus of blasphemy, a capital offense by religious law. But that body, the "supreme court" of the Jews, could not pronounce the death penalty because Roman law prevailed. So the Sanhedrin transferred his case to Pilate, the Roman governor of Judea, on the concocted charge of treason against the Roman government. That was a crime for which, if found guilty, Jesus could legally be put to death.

Jesus stands now in the governor’s residence, the praetorium, waiting to be interrogated by Pilate. Any ordinary person in the same circumstances would have been physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. His will would have been broken, and he would have been ready to make any confession or concession to escape further harm and humiliation. Jesus could easily have taken that route, for Pilate was the kingpin of the local Roman operation, and in a position to call the shots as to whether Jesus lived or died.

But, oddly, the scene in the praetorium leaves us with the distinct impression that Jesus, not Pilate, was in control of the "trial." He dominates the scene. In May, 1986, a mayoral election was held in a large American city. The incumbent was resoundingly defeated in a stunning upset, after sixteen years in office. A newspaper columnist found little on his record that was worthy of praise. One of his weaknesses had been an inability to inspire his constituency. His victorious opponent seemed to have that knack. The columnist quoted a city official’s assessment of the successful contender: "When he walks into a room, it seems to light up. His gestures, his manner, his speech, his way, make people warm up to him. He makes people feel good, he makes them laugh. People like that. People want that."1 The new mayor becomes the center of attention by the sheer power of his personality. In like manner, Jesus towers over Pilate in the praetorium.

Pilate seems uneasy, uncertain, unsure of himself, on the defensive, as if sensing that he is somehow outranked by the Carpenter of Nazareth. The other man has the aura of majesty that surrounds only a king or queen. "Are you king of the Jews?" Pilate asks. And later in the interrogation, Jesus makes it quite clear that he does indeed consider himself a king, but that his kingship is not of this world.

I.

A man was thinking about the nature of Jesus’ kingship one day on his daily early-morning walk. His mile-long hike in the park gives him the opportunity he seeks to spend some time with God in prayer and meditation. A few days earlier he had spotted a penny in the road as he strode along. That find led to another, and another, until he had collected a total of thirteen coins. For awhile thereafter he hiked head down, hoping in vain to strike gold in the gutter again. Meanwhile, as one might imagine, his prayer life was neglected in his preoccupation with pennies.

Then, as thoughts of the kingship of Jesus intruded, the man felt compelled to look up and around once more. The view was preferable, by far, to that of the gutter. Monarch butterflies in orange and black uniforms floated in for a brief visit with flowering shrubs. A Mallard quacked at him from a rainpuddle in a grassy hollow, and he returned its quack. Squirrels flicked their bushy tails as they peered cautiously from their leafy perches. Birds sang cheerily from branches above them. And, feeling rebuked, he resumed his silent prayers of thanksgiving, petition, praise, and intercession.

This world, the man reflected, pulls our eyes downward. It fills our minds with the ordinary and the mundane. Its rulers require their subjects to bow and scrape, and to approach them submissively, figuratively, or literally on their knees. But the kingship of Jesus insists only that we walk in dignity, with head erect, so that we may see - and rejoice in - the beauty of the earth and the glory of the skies, bask in his goodness, and give ourselves to his service for the sake of others.

II.

His kingship is a kingship of peace. The conditions of his day were ripe for a junta. The Jews resented the presence of the Roman occupation forces, and the zealots among them prayed - and prepared - for their overthrow, under the leadership of a militant Messiah. The Romans were especially vulnerable at Passover, when devout pilgrims flocked by tens of thousands to Jerusalem. The pilgrims far outnumbered the Roman garrisons then, and Jesus could easily have recruited a vast army and overwhelmed the legions of Caesar. But that was not Jesus’ style, and he made that clear: "My kingship is not of this world."

Men and women, in recent history, shed light on the peaceable character of the kingship of Jesus. Harry Emerson Fosdick cited Mahatma Ghandi as an example:

... for us moderns, Mahatma Ghandi should help us to understand Jesus. Ghandi’s powerful leadership swayed millions of followers and upon his will time and again hung the success or failure of Great Britain’s imperial policies. He had courage and daring, a fearlessness of danger and death, that any soldier might envy. Yet with indefatigable persistence he held to his non-violent course, refusing military revolt, and depending solely on the might and pressure of spiritual forces. Of all the paradoxical combinations of opposing qualities in Jesus’ character - self-fulfillment and self-denial, explosive enthusiasm and serenity, fierce indignation and compassionate gentleness, consciousness of divine mission and profound humility - none is more amazing than this conjunction of qualities that make a great soldier with those that make a great pacifist.2

Some may prefer "peacemaker" to "pacifist," but whichever term one prefers, all can agree that Jesus sought and promoted peace with a passion. Ghandi, and later Martin Luther King, Jr., demonstrated how the life, example, and teachings of Jesus can be applied in workable, non-violent ways, to overcome decades of wrongs and bring peaceful coexistence to individuals, societies, and nations.

II.

His kingship is a kingship of joy. It follows that where there peace there is joy, as I observed one day from my favorite "desk" in a fast-food restaurant. A family group occupied a nearby booth. The young mother was accompanied by her two small children and their grandmother.

The little girl, who was about three years old, slapped her brother smartly on the face. He began to wail. The mother gently but firmly separated the two, insisting that the little girl apologize for her actions. She, too, broke into tears, sobbing loudly, but she complied with her mother’s demand. Her brother brightly accepted the apology, the mother hugged her daughter approvingly, and grandmother looked on with a pleased smile. Soon, bruised feelings soothed and broken relationships mended, all were laughing joyfully.

That family exchange was a thought provoking little drama. The four were a symbol, a representation, of the human family under the kingship of Christ. We hurt one another. Christ insists that the culprit repent and ask the injured party for forgiveness. He expects those who have been hurt to pardon and forgive the offender. Then, and only then, can the parties involved receive God’s forgiveness. And God does forgive. With that, all are reconciled, party to party, and parties to God. And there is joy in heaven and on earth.

Christ set an example of unconditional forgiveness. From the cross, he freely forgave persecutors who had no intention of asking his forgiveness. To so forgive is humanly impossible, we argue. Nancy, a young woman who works for a county social service agency, would reply, "On the contrary, it is possible." She would cite the case of a Panamanian woman under her supervision. The woman had been beaten by her husband. A date for a hearing was set. Then, some time before the hearing, she heard the Good News of God in Jesus Christ, and became a Christian. She told Nancy, "When my husband and I stand before the judge, I am going to say to my husband, ‘I forgive you, for you did not know what you were doing.’ "

That is no plea for women to put up submissively with abusive husbands. But Nancy’s story does suggest that unconditional forgiveness, like unto that of our Lord at his crucifixion, can carry warring ones to the porch of peace, over the threshold of joy, and into the living room of harmony.

III.

His kingship is a kingship of blessing. Those who accept his kingship enjoy showers of blessings under the most adverse conditions.

Rajenda Rongong could attest to that. In the 1950s, he was the only Christian graduate student to have come from Nepal to study in the United States. He shared some of his experiences with the congregation of a little church in Camden, New Jersey. He told the people about conditions in Nepal as they then existed. Christians could not convert other Nepali to their faith. It was against the law to baptize. Violators were sent to jail.

One pastor, said Rongong, defied the law and baptized five people. He was brought to trial, convicted, and sentenced to jail for eleven years. Some called the man foolish for having broken the law. Many felt great sympathy for him. But the pastor had placed himself under the kingship of Christ. Rongong reported that he was having the time of his life! He was witnessing to his fellow prisoners and telling them about his Lord. Rongong did not say how the pastor’s work and witness were being received, but the attitude of the pastor indicated that he was having huge success: inmates were responding by accepting the kingship of Jesus for themselves. That gladdened the heart of the pastor. He felt that he was blanketed by blessing. He was actually sorry that only two years remained until his sentence expired!

Rongong’s audience smiled and chuckled when he spoke of the prisoner’s reluctance to be freed. But that pastor had something all Christians once had, or longed for if they did not, something that in the early church was close to the norm of Christian experience, not the exception.

Extreme deprivation is not a pre-condition for the granting and receiving of blessings. Every ordinary day brings, to those in ordinary circumstances, something that gives pleasure or contentment.

J. Harvey Howells wrote:

There is a moment of complete loneliness that comes to everyone every day. When the last goodnight has been murmured and the head is on the pillow, the soul is utterly alone with its thoughts. It is then that I ask myself, "What was the happiest thing that happened today?"

The waking hours may have been filled with stress and even distress ... But no matter what kind of a day it has been, there is always a "happiest" thing.

Funnily enough, it’s rarely a big thing. Mostly it’s a fleeting loveliness. Waking to the honk of Canada geese on a crisp fall morning ... An unexpected letter from a friend who doesn’t write often ... A cool swim on a broiling day ... Camellias in the snow in an amazed New Orleans. My wife’s face when she makes me laugh.

There’s always something, and as a result I have never had a sleeping pill in my life ... happiness is not a goal dependent on some future event. It is with us every day if we only make a conscious effort to recognize it.3

What an ideal model for a Christian spiritual exercise program at the close of day! Lying in bed, making a deliberate attempt to recall blessings received from the hand of God as rewards for our allegiance to Christ the King. Whispering, "Thank you, Lord," for everyone remembered. Slipping into slumber with tears of gratitude trickling from the corner of our eyes.

I have not heard this old Gospel song sung for years. Is it still in use at Sunday evening services, in tiny churches on small-town street corners and country lanes? Not often, I suspect. We’ve become too sophisticated for some of the old songs. The song came back to me as I meditated on the Gospel Lesson for today. It suggested an outline for this sermon, and it goes like this:

I am happy in the service of the King,

I am happy, Oh, so happy;

I have peace and joy that nothing else can bring,

In the service of the King.

In the service of the King

every talent I will bring;

I have peace and joy and blessing

In the service of the King.

Serve the King with every talent you possess. Employ them to help him bring "peace and joy and blessing" to every city and town on our tormented and polluted planet. Seek, for all the world, fulfillment of the post-exilic prophet’s dream of a restored Jerusalem, "Thus says the Lord of hosts: Old men and old women shall again sit in the streets of Jerusalem, each with staff in hand for very age. And the streets of the city shall be full of boys and girls playing in its streets" (Zechariah 8:4-5).

That is not the way it is now. But it is the way it can be under that kingship which is not of this world.

1. Claude Lewis, "Gibson is out and James is in, which should help Newark" (New Brunswick: The Home News, May 20, 1986), p. 7.

2. Harry Emerson Fosdick, The Man from Nazareth (New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, Inc., 1949), p.208. By permission.

3. J. Harvey Howells, "Words to Live By," (Philadelphia: The Sunday Bulletin, August 24, 1958). The Philadelphia Bulletin no longer publishes.