This week we explore the nature of Christ’s kingship, drawing and looking at worldly power and the divine authority of love. How should we respond to Christ’s invitation to a kingdom founded on love, justice, and genuine freedom?
The Glimpses of Grace podcast is a ministry of Grace Episcopal Church in Gainesville, Georgia. We are passionate about supporting the spiritual growth of souls, and we hope these sermons and conversations meet you where you are and enrich your soul as we all continue to make meaning in the world today.
Glimpses of Grace on Spotify
Once there was a king who ruled over a vast and powerful kingdom. He was a ruler of great authority and wealth, accustomed to getting whatever he desired. One day, while walking through the town square, the king encountered a maiden. She was poor, unremarkable in appearance, and lived a humble life. Yet, despite her modesty, the king was struck by her beauty and the inner light that shone from her simple, genuine nature.
The king was captivated, his heart consumed by love. However, as a king, he was aware of his enormous power and privilege. He had known many women before, and many women had desired him. He was accustomed to having his way in all matters. But with this maiden, it was different. He realized that because of his royal position, he could never expect her to love him purely for who he was. She might admire his grandeur or fear him and his authority. But could she ever love him for the man he was beneath the crown?
The king, troubled by this thought, decided to approach the situation with great care. He would not simply command her love. He wanted her to choose him freely. He devised a plan. The king withdrew from his throne, disguising himself as a commoner. He went to the maiden’s modest home, helpless and hungry. He made no promises of riches but asked for shelter and a bit of bread. He simply opened his heart and offered her the choice to love him—not as a king but as a man, an ordinary man without titles or privileges.
He wanted her love to be freely given, not based on his power. She came to love him not because of his position or wealth but because of the person he was—the kindness of his heart. The king was overwhelmed by her love, and he rejoiced not because he had won her over with his power but because she had chosen him for who he was, not for the throne he sat upon. The king had given up his sovereignty for the sake of love, and in return, he received something far more valuable: the genuine love of the maiden, untainted by any sense of obligation or expectation.
Through his act of love and self-emptying, the king discovered that true love is not about possessing or controlling but about the freedom to choose—to give and to receive.
In today’s gospel, Pilate confronts Jesus with a question dripping with irony: “Are you the King of the Jews?” Pilate speaks as a representative of the mightiest empire on earth. He is bewildered because a king wields power. A king uses force to assert control. A king uses dominance to achieve conformity, exploiting and excluding in the process. Yet standing before him is a man whose hands are bound, whose body already bears the marks of violence, whose troops consist of fishermen and outcasts.
For Pilate, how does this man standing before him really plan to overthrow the power of Rome? It is this very moment that reveals the stark contrast between the kingdoms of this world and God’s kingdom. Jesus’s response—“My kingdom is not of this world”—is not an invasion but an invitation. It shifts the focus from worldly power to divine purpose—from dominance to self-emptying love.
Søren Kierkegaard’s parable of a king and a maiden mirrors this gospel truth. Christ the King comes to us not with coercive power but with love that honors human freedom. This is the kind of King Jesus declares himself to be before Pilate—a king who lays down his life for his people, whose authority is rooted not in domination but in love.
In worldly terms, honor is given to those who wield power—those who control armies, wealth, and influence. Yet the Book of Revelation offers a different vision of splendor and honor: there, the Lamb who is slain is worthy to receive power and wealth, wisdom and might, honor and glory and blessing.
Jesus’s kingship challenges our allegiance. Do we honor the power structures of this world? Or do we honor a King who reigns through humility and love? Our nations build walls; he traverses borders. We use ballistic missiles to assert dominance; he asks his friends to drop their nets and follow him. We measure wealth in things that eventually break down and crumble; for him, wealth is measured in love for one another. Fear drives us; but fear is meaningless for a King rooted in prayer and faithfulness. We grasp tightly at life’s fleeting beauty; he teaches us a kind of love that unwinds.
Pilate asks Jesus, “What is truth?” Truth for Pilate is whatever serves the empire; but for Jesus, truth is the foundation of his kingdom—a truth that cannot be coerced but only witnessed.
We are called to be citizens of this kingdom of truth. Our allegiance is not to worldly status but to Christ, who invites us to embody his way of love and justice. To follow Christ is to relinquish our grasp on the kind of power Pilate represents—and instead embrace the splendor found in serving others.
If Christ the King comes to us not in force but in love—not in dominance but in humility—then how do we respond? Imagine the King clothed not in royal robes or decorative jewels but in ordinary garments, standing quietly at the door of your heart. He does not command; he waits. He does not demand; he invites.
What will you do with the freedom given to you? Will you recognize the splendor of his love and open the door? Or will the noise of lesser allegiances drown out his quiet knock?