This past week the headlines have again been filled with stories of conflict, division, and uncertainty. Nations are at odds, communities are fractured, politicans are arguing!
It is into this very climate that Christ the King Sunday speaks. Today we proclaim that Jesus is not just a figure of history, not just a moral teacher, but the living King who reigns today. And the question before us is not simply whether Christ is King in some abstract sense, but whether Christ is King of our lives.
This Sunday is the last of the church year. Next week, Advent begins—a season of waiting and preparation, a season of looking both to the celebration of Christ’s birth and to his promised return. But before we turn to Advent, the church gives us this day: Christ the King Sunday. A day to reflect on our relationship with God, to ask whether Christ truly reigns in our hearts, our homes, our communities.
Our first reading, from Jeremiah 23:1–6, speaks of shepherds. Shepherds in the ancient world were symbols of care, guidance, and protection. They risked everything to guard their sheep. But Jeremiah describes shepherds who failed in their calling. Instead of gathering the flock, they scattered it. Instead of protecting, they exploited.
We don’t have to look far to see echoes of this today—some leaders who pursue power rather than service, systems that exploit rather than protect, voices that scatter rather than gather. Jeremiah’s words are not just ancient history…
But Jeremiah does not stop with condemnation. He offers a promise that God will raise up a righteous King. A shepherd who will not fail. A ruler who will bring justice and righteousness. That promise is fulfilled in Jesus, the true Shepherd-King.
(((Our psalm today begins with those words of hope: “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” Even when the earth gives way, even when nations rage, God remains.
The psalmist gives us advice that is both simple and profound: “Be still, and know that I am God.” In a world of chaos, God calls us to stillness. That is not passive resignation but active trust. It is choosing to listen to the voice of the true King rather than the clamour of the world.
I confess, I find stillness difficult. Silence makes me restless! But this is life-changing stuff. To be still before God is to recognise his strength, his wisdom, his love. It is to remember that we are precious in his sight, loved beyond measure.)))
Paul’s letter to the Colossians (1:11–20) lifts our eyes to the supremacy of Christ. He is the image of the invisible God, the one through whom all things were created, the one in whom all things hold together.
Paul’s encouragement to the young church is clear: whatever you face, remain strong and faithful. Christ is not just part of your life, he is the centre, the source, the sustainer. To follow Christ is to acknowledge that he is Lord over every corner of existence.
And that is the challenge of Christ the King Sunday. Is Christ the King of every part of our lives or of none? There is no halfway allegiance.
And then we come to the gospel reading, Luke 23:33–43. Here is the paradox of Christ the King: his throne is a cross, his crown is of thorns, his royal decree is forgiveness.
At Calvary, Jesus is mocked: “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” Yet he does not save himself—he saves others. He prays for his executioners: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” And to the criminal beside him, who simply cries out, “Jesus, remember me,” he gives the most astonishing promise: “Today you will be with me in paradise.”
This is evangelism in its purest form. A condemned man, with nothing to offer, no good works to present, no time left to reform his life—simply turns to Jesus in faith. And Jesus opens the door of salvation wide. That is the gospel: whoever you are, whatever you’ve done, however far you feel from God, the invitation remains—turn to Jesus, and you will find mercy.
This puts us to shame with our petty squabbles, our grudges, our reluctance to forgive. The crucified King shows us the incredible grace and mercy of God, a love that endures pain, a love that forgives even those who wound him. And it reminds us that we are never beyond redemption.
There’s a story told of a ship captain who, on a dark night, saw faint lights ahead. He ordered his signalman: “Alter your course 10 degrees south.” The reply came: “Alter your course 10 degrees north.”
Angered, the captain repeated: “Alter your course 10 degrees south—I am the captain!” The reply came: “Alter your course 10 degrees north—I am seaman third class Jones.”
Finally, the captain messaged: “Alter your course 10 degrees south—I am a battleship.” The reply came: “Alter your course 10 degrees north—I am a lighthouse.”
In the midst of our dark times, all sorts of voices shout orders into the night. But one voice signals something different, something unchanging. That voice is Jesus, the Light of the World. He is the immovable rock, the King who cannot be shifted. To trust him is salvation.
So on this Christ the King Sunday, the question is not whether Christ reigns—he does. The question is whether we will bow the knee, whether we will let him reign in our hearts, our homes, our communities.
Will we be like the mocking thief, demanding proof and scoffing at his weakness? Or will we be like the repentant thief, who simply says, “Jesus, remember me”?
The good news is that the same promise given on that cross is offered to us today: “You will be with me.” That is the hope of salvation, not earned by us, but given by grace.
Christ the King is not content with half our allegiance. He is either Lord of all, or not Lord at all. And yet he does not demand perfection, only surrender. He asks us to place him at the centre, to trust his strength, to live with confidence in his salvation, and to share that hope with others.
Part of that answer will be known only by us and by God. But part of it will be shown in our love for others, in our kindness and compassion, in how we seek justice and righteousness, in how we forgive as we have been forgiven, in how we treat even those we struggle to like.
Each one of us may be far from the finished project, far from perfect, far from emulating Jesus as we would like and hope. But he does not ask for the finished article. He asks us to be ready to put him at the centre, to seek continually his strength, to have hope because we know him, and to live confident of salvation—not through anything we have done, but through what God has done and is doing for us.
And then, to offer that hope of salvation through our words, through our actions, through our lives.
Christ the King Sunday is not just the last Sunday before Advent. It is a call to decision. In a world of chaos, in a world of failed shepherds, in a world of competing voices, Christ stands as the true King. His throne is a cross, his crown is of thorns, his decree is forgiveness, his promise is paradise.
The question is simple, but life-changing: Is Christ the King of your life?
May we, like the thief on the cross, turn to him and say, “Jesus, remember me.” And may we hear his reply: “You will be with me.” AMEN
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