Collision of Kingdoms
Text: Luke 22 and 23
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
As we enter this most Holy Week of the year, we have before us two kingdoms colliding. It’s all over the Passion reading from St. Luke, which we just heard. But it’s not just a clash of two empires on the battlefield or rival kings vying for more territory or treasure. This is a direct meeting of the kingdom of this world and the kingdom of God—and the two could not be more different.
In the kingdom of this world, we hear the disciples debating—just after the Lord has given them His body and blood as the fruits of the sacrifice He’s about to undergo—debating which one of them is the greatest. Such is the way of this world’s rule, seeking elevation in position, greater status, more recognition. On the other hand, we hear Jesus’ explanation of greatness in the kingdom of God: “The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you. Rather, let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and the leader as one who serves. For who is greater, the one who reclines at table or one who serves?…But I am among you as the one who serves.”
In the kingdom of the world, everything is done to avoid discomfort, suffering, shame, and humiliation. But what is Jesus’ prayer as He approaches His Father at the very gates of heaven? “Father if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” The kingdom of God seeks God’s will, even if it means that the path is through something the world would reject as unpleasant or distasteful.
In the kingdom of the world, servants strike with the sword to cut off the ears of their enemies or even strike them dead. But in the kingdom of God, Jesus heals those who have come out against Him with swords and clubs. In the kingdom of the world, self-preservation is a virtue, as Peter denies His beloved Lord three times in an effort to save His own skin. But the kingdom of God counters with the self-sacrifice of that same Lord in the place of His disciple Peter.
In the kingdom of the world, pomp and power and glittering glory is on display in the halls of Pilate and Herod, who treat this lowly prisoner with contempt and mockery, who lord it over Him with shows of might and wealth and force. But all that is eclipsed by the humility of Jesus, King of kings, who, when asked if He was a king, simply said, “You have said so,” and presents no arms or soldiers or gold or majesty.
In the kingdom of the world, enemies are put down with mockery and slander, devaluing them with words and actions to show what the world really thinks of them. So Jesus is struck, made fun of with gaudy kingly clothes even as they punch Him, He’s ridiculed, and finally nailed to a cross. But the kingdom of God overcomes even this insult and injury as the first words out of Jesus’ mouth on that cross are “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
But it all reaches a peak in these words, that really show the heart of each kingdom, the utter night and day difference between them. The kingdom of the world looks at Jesus and cries out, “Let him save himself! Are you not the Christ? Save yourself!” But the kingdom of God, ruled by the self-sacrificing Lord Jesus, has no interest in those who would save themselves. And so Jesus says instead, “Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit.”
That really is the crux of what’s happening between these two kingdoms. Jesus, the Son of God, the Lord of the kingdom of God, is taking on the kingdom of this world and all its fallenness, its sin, its evil, and its death; it’s self-centered ways and addiction to power and status and rule. These things are reflected in the command from the kingdom of the world, reflected even in the desire, to save yourself.
Because to save yourself means you get to be in control. You get to decide what’s right and wrong, good and good enough, life and death. You get to sit in Pilate’s judgment seat, condemning what’s innocent and letting what’s guilty go its merry way. You get to sit beside Herod on his throne, demanding that God show you some kind of sign, questioning Him, before dismissing Him out of your sight. You get to decide who gets rewarded—and surprise, it’s always you—and who gets punished—again, surprise: it’s those you’re angry with and don’t like. In essence, you save yourself, whether it’s by your works, your maneuvering, the influence you collect, the allies you line up, the lies you tell (even to yourself), the goodness you proclaim about yourself, the wickedness of others you think are against you. In essence, you get to play God. That is the way of the kingdom of the world.
But it is not the way of God. In His kingdom you do not save yourself. In point of fact, you cannot save yourself. It’s impossible. You can’t fight off death, you can’t defeat sin, you can’t outmaneuver the devil, and no matter how happy you think you’ve made yourself, you still have to face down death, which will catch you as it catches all its prey. In the kingdom of God, you admit this. You don’t save yourself, but you commit your spirit to your King’s hands. In faith, you hand yourself over entirely to someone else to save you. It’s hard, to be sure. It grates against every natural instinct you have. It means that you don’t get to exact revenge, but instead you forgive—and not just in words, but in truth. You don’t offer up defenses for what you’ve done or not done, but instead you have faith and receive forgiveness. You humble yourself to be at your God’s mercy. Father, into Your hands I commit my spirit.
That’s why we devote ourselves to the Lord and His cross this week. We receive the fruits of His cross this Holy Thursday. We see His crucifixion painted before our eyes on Good Friday. We hear of how this cross becomes the gate to eternal life on Saturday night and Sunday morning. We leave behind the ways of the world and dedicate this sacred time to walk with our Lord in His kingdom. We learn the ways of God. We fix our eyes on Jesus, founder and perfecter of our faith, so that we would learn how to have that faith to commend ourselves to God’s hands. Walk with your Lord now to His table, His cross, and His empty tomb. In the name of Jesus, the Crucified One. Amen.
