A Different Kind of King

There is something beautifully illustrative about the picturesque scene in which Jesus was born. A simple cattle shed, not fit for any birth, and yet God wanted to make an undeniable point as he announced a new kind of king had come. A different kind of king. One not welcomed with pomp and ceremony, adorned in purple robes, housed in the comfort of a palace, or protected by armies. But born in a lowly stable, perhaps not even acceptable for farm animals, at least not by today’s standards.

The all-embracing message of God is striking and stirring—his Son, born to be with the people, as one of us. Not distant, not removed from, but with, among, lifting, loving and serving. That demonstration came as he was born in a humble, lowly stable, not sterilized, not even clean, certainly not suitable to receive an infant child, let alone the King. Yet God chose to come in this way.

The message of Jesus’ birth reminds us of God’s desire to reign differently. He came to be born within me—perhaps also a mere lowly stable, by royal standards. Yet he made me something beautiful because of his presence and residing grace. He came to be among us—in us and with us in community. We celebrate his birth when we invite him into our hearts, and we celebrate his presence collectively, as a community, when we acknowledge his coming as we worship together.

I love the translation of John 1:14 in The Message: “The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighbourhood. We saw the glory with our own eyes, the one-of-a-kind glory, like Father, like Son, generous inside and out, true from start to finish.” It is wonder, majesty, splendour, mercy, love and grace, all bundled up in that arrival. It is Jesus and we celebrate!

King Jesus was born, metaphorically, in the bleak midwinter, against the backdrop of a cold and calloused world. Kings at the time of Jesus’ birth demanded wealth and power, at the expense of the people they were on the throne to honour and protect. They often reigned cruelly, more interested in self-preservation than serving.

But not so with King Jesus. He came to make it less and less about self and more and more about others. This is Christmas. As we become more like him, we are moved with passion, strangely stirred and, along with him, moved further and further into community to be with others, to care for others, to make life better.

This is King Jesus, this is Christmas, this is The Salvation Army. On snowy winter evenings, with a chill in the air, a band playing music under the streetlights, announcing that Jesus the King has come, calling the community together to make sure that all can enjoy the Christmas season. Gathering and distributing food so there is enough for all. Reminding our neighbours that Jesus is a personal, loving Saviour, whose reign speaks of the last being first, and hopelessness transformed into hope. As King Jesus said, “I have come that they may have life and have it abundantly” (John 10:10 NRSVUE).

And so, I must respond. His love come down compels me to respond. King Jesus, living in me and, by extension, in community through me, prods me to respond.

The poet Christina Rossetti describes the arrival of King Jesus and ponders the question of how I might respond in the most appropriate way:

In the bleak midwinter
A stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty,
Jesus Christ.

What can I give him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd,
I would bring a lamb;
If I were a wise man,
I would do my part;
Yet what I can I give him:
Give my heart.

This beautiful Christmas season, I encourage you: if you have not already done so, allow King Jesus entry into your heart. Invite him to make your heart the stable where he resides. You can do this by simply offering this prayer: Dear Jesus, I recognize my sin before God and my need for a personal Saviour. Please come into my heart. Then tell someone that you are a child of the King.

Portrait of Commissioner Lee Graves.