It upends almost every idea we have about deity.
It challenges almost every ambition we for ourselves.
This tension between Jesus as Sovereign and Jesus as Servant.
This tension between Jesus as one who wore a crown, but a crown composed of thorns.
One the one hand, we’re seem to want a Sovereign. Like the crowd of 5,000+ in John 6, we’re eager to install Jesus as king-by force if necessary. We want King Jesus on the throne of country, community, or congregation.
But not necessarily for the right reason. We seem to want to install Jesus as Sovereign so he can become the means for accomplishing our ends. We want Jesus as our puppet king fulfilling our personal agendas. We want to ride his coattails to greatness and glory. Oh how we want a Jesus who wears a crown! Because then we’ve got a friend in high places.
Jesus offers to be Sovereign-but more sovereign than we anticipated. So sovereign that like the prophet in Is. 6, when we see him high and lifted up, all we can do is fall before him and cry out “Woe is me!” So sovereign that like John in Rev. 1, at the sight of King Jesus we collapse at his feet as though dead. So sovereign that like Peter in Mark 9 we don’t even know what to say at the sight of the transfigured Christ.
It turns out that Jesus is more Sovereign than we might ever imagine. And he’s using his limitless power to build his kingdom–not ours. Before such sovereignty, Paul writes in Phil. 2, every knee in heaven and on earth will bow. Such sovereignty calls for an unqualified surrender on our part.
Jesus as Sovereign is challenging. It means he doesn’t serve my dreams. I serve his. It means he cannot be one of many before whom I bow. He must be the one and only before whom I bow. Jesus’ crown is challenging.
Yet it’s also comforting. With such a Monarch we need not worry about the threats of any other powers. No power in heaven or hell could match His. Within his reign, all is well. There’s a peace that passes understanding when you’ve got a King like Jesus.
And yet, Jesus is also Servant-and to a degree that seems unfathomable. This is what sets Jesus apart from all other religious figures. Other religions envision deity as Sovereign. But none envision that same deity as Servant. He’s the kind of servant who makes his way around the table washing the feet of those who follow (Jn 13). He’s such a servant that time upon time the disciples could not grasp what Jesus meant when he predicted he would be delivered into the hands of men and killed (Mark 9). This kind of sacrificial service did not fit their perception of a king. He’s such a servant that the crown he’s most known for is his crown of thorns-woven out of spite to mock his supposed sovereignty; yet a testament to his sacrificial servanthood (Mk. 14).
This thorny crown makes his rule benevolent and his kingdom a blessing. He’s come as the servant of all. He’s training us to be servants of all (Mk 9). He and we exist not for the good of some selfish interest, but for the good of the world. Our mantra is that to be first, we will be last (Mk 9).
And to live rightly with Jesus, I must learn to live within this tension. I must relate to him as one who wears the crown, but a crown of thorns.
To live rightly for Jesus, I must learn to live within this tension. I must embrace his call to be servant of all, calling them into the benevolent reign of Christ.
These are my meditations during this second week of the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises.
