Sermon on Christ the King Sunday, preaching from Luke 23:33–43
Rev Harry Newton delivers a Christ the King Sunday sermon at SumRed Church, arguing that everyone serves something — and that Jesus is the king worth serving.
Summary
Rev Harry Newton preaches at SumRed Church on Christ the King Sunday, the final Sunday of the church calendar before Advent begins. Drawing on Luke 23:33–43, he walks through the trial and crucifixion of Jesus, tracing the political maneuvering of the Sanhedrin, Pilate, and Herod that led to the crucifixion. His central argument is that the claim "Jesus is king" is not a comfortable religious platitude but a radical, demanding assertion — because everyone, whether religious or not, already serves something, and whatever controls a person becomes their true lord and master. He contends that most things people serve ultimately enslave them, while Jesus, as the king who rose from the dead and calls his subjects friends, offers fulfillment, acceptance, and purpose freely.
Key Takeaways
FULL TRANSCRIPT
Welcome and the Church Calendar
Rev Harry Newton: Kia ora koutou.
Kia ora koutou. My name's Harry. If we've never met before, I'm the minister here, and it's my privilege to welcome you to church. Does anyone know what today is in the life of the church? It's a bit of a giveaway — it's actually on the front of the newsletter. Christ the King Sunday.
Ever since ancient times, the church has had its own calendar, just because we do what we do. And today is like the end of the year. So it's New Year's Eve. And next Sunday is the new year — it's the beginning of Advent, leading into Christmas.
Now, over this period, we often choose some weird readings. We have them set for us. And you know how when you're leading up to Christmas you want all the nice, feel-good, gooey stuff? Most people do, I think. That's why Hallmark makes a fortune. Over the next few weeks, you're going to notice that most of the readings are really depressing — like sackcloth and ashes, self-flagellation, everyone's dying, life sucks, I can't help, why am I even alive? Sunshine and lollipops don't exist.
And today we've got a similar kind of thing going on. You've got the church calendar coming to a crescendo, climaxing at the end of its crescendo — and what is the reading? It's Jesus hung on a cross, dying, asphyxiating in his own blood. It's pretty gruesome. And yet they chose this reading, this story, year after year, as the way of making the boldest, most demanding, most outlandish, and frankly offensive claim there can be: that Jesus Christ is king.
The Trial Before the Sanhedrin and Pilate
Now, a bit of context. Going back to the Bible — it's Caiaphas who, in the early morning, convenes what's called the Sanhedrin. It's the High Council for Jerusalem. It had 71 people in it: 70 representatives of all the different factions of Judaism, and the 71st was the High Priest. We actually know the High Priest wasn't actually the High Priest — he was a puppet High Priest thrown in there under false pretenses after the original High Priest was murdered. So it's all very murky, all about politics, and they all get together, and the only thing that unites them is their shared opposition and hatred of Jesus.
And so they have Jesus brought before them, and they said, "If you are the Messiah, tell us." To which he replied, "If I tell you, you will not believe. And if I question you, you will not answer. But from now on, the Son of Man will be seated at the right hand of the power of God." And they asked, "Are you then the Son of God?" Jesus said to them, "You say that I am." And they said, "What further testimony do we need? We have heard it ourselves from his own lips." And then the assembly rose as a body and brought Jesus before Pilate.
In another version of the story, they rip their robes and they're all very dramatic. Has anyone here ever lived in the Middle East? Those of you who have will know they're prone to being a bit dramatic. Can you imagine all these men jumping up and ripping their robes, angry, and dragging him down the road?
Where they take him — they take him down to see a man called Pilate. Now, the reason they want to have Jesus put to death is because they see him as an existential threat to their people, but also because he's undermining their authority and their power. But the problem is that they're not in charge. Not really. The Romans are, because the Romans conquered them and they're under the thumb of Rome. So they take Jesus down the road to see the Roman governor, Pilate.
We're told they begin to accuse him. But they have a problem. If you're Jewish and someone makes a blasphemous claim — "I'm the Son of God," for example — it's legitimate to stone them to death. That's completely legit. But if you're a Roman and a bunch of Jewish men turn up at your door going, "This guy said he's the Son of God," you're going to say, "That's a bit strange. I don't care. I'm going back to have more coffee," or whatever it is you do at six o'clock in the morning if you're a Roman.
They therefore have to come up with a reason why Pilate has to care. And so they come up with three main accusations before Pilate about Jesus. The first is that he's causing unrest amongst the Jews — and we know that's not true. We know it's them who are causing the unrest from the story. Two, they say he's forbidding people to pay taxes to Rome. Once again, it's a lie. In fact, Jesus did the complete opposite. If you know the Jesus story, you'll know that shortly before this, he actually told them to do the opposite. The third thing: they say he's claiming to be a messiah, a king, and that puts him in direct opposition to Caesar. And that's what captures Pilate's attention.
And so Pilate says to Jesus, "Are you the king of the Jews?" And Jesus answers, "You say so."
Now, in the original Greek, the word or phrase used here is sylegious — and I'm really sorry about my pronunciation; I went to Greek school for five years and I don't speak Greek, so if you do, I'm really sorry. But sylegious translates to "you say." And it's the same phrase used in every account of the Jesus story. It appears to have been some sort of idiom, similar to "so you say," except it's deliberately vague — along the lines of "yeah, nah, eh?" Because if someone says to you, "Are you such and such?" and you reply, "So you say," it sounds a bit snarky. It could have different implications depending on how you read it.
It's like when you talk to someone who's English and they have tremendous implications if you read between the lines of what they tell you — but if you just read what they wrote down on a piece of paper, you go, "Oh, what do they mean?" You could imply it in all sorts of different ways. Similar thing here. Jesus is being deliberately vague.
And so when Pilate hears this, he thinks, "Well, this is stupid." He turns to the leaders and says, "I find no basis for an accusation against this man." But the Jewish leaders are desperate and insistent, and they reply, "He stirs up the people by teaching throughout all Judea, from Galilee where he began, even to this place." And right there, Pilate spots his out. "Ah, Galilee — not my issue. Go see Herod," the puppet king, because he's in charge of Galilee.
Before Herod and Back to Pilate
So they take Jesus down to Herod. Hopefully Herod will put Jesus to death. Jesus is brought before Herod's court. Herod mocks him, tries to get him to speak, and we're told Jesus is mute — doesn't say a word the entire time he's there. And eventually Herod gets bored and sends him back to Pilate.
I don't know if you've ever thought about this, but how was it for Jesus that morning, going back and forth? Back and forth, back and forth. All these different would-be kings trying to figure out who's going to be in charge of putting him to death.
And so Pilate, wanting to release Jesus, addressed the religious authorities and the growing crowd. Three times he contends for the innocence of Jesus, and each time he's shouted down. He's running out of options. He appealed to the Jewish people one final time, pressed on the reality of Jesus' innocence, and even said, "Look, I'll have him flogged if it makes you happy, but I'm not putting him to death." But the crowd, urgently demanding with loud shouts — "Crucify him, crucify him, crucify him" — eventually Pilate caves.
Jesus is condemned, beaten, stripped naked, marched to the city, crucified on a tree. And as we heard in our reading this morning, he's then mocked — first by the Jewish leaders, then by the Roman soldiers, and then even by a criminal nailed to the tree next to him. Mocked for being a king. "If you're really the king, save yourself."
Great story, hey? What a lovely, uplifting story for a Sunday morning.
Why This Story? The Claim That Jesus Is King
Why, though? Why is this the story? Why is this the one we use as the epic climax of the church calendar? Because it makes an immense claim about who Jesus is. Jesus himself says that he is a king — the king of a kingdom not of this world.
Which at one level sounds absolutely fine, especially if you've been a church person for a while. If you're not a church person, that might mean something different to you. But if you are a church person, you're probably comfortable with that phrase. "Oh yeah, Jesus is king. That's cool. I'm on board with that."
But a lot of people actually instinctively struggle with this, and I reckon with good reason. Because if Jesus really is the king, that will demand something of everyone who says that they are his subjects. Because what do you do with a king or a queen or a monarch? You fear them, but you also submit to them, because they're in charge. You accept their supreme authority despite the cost.
And if you think about it, that pushes back against everything that we hold dear in our neoliberal, individualistic society. It doesn't matter what someone's title is. It doesn't matter if old mate Chris is the Prime Minister or if Charles is the King of England. At the end of the day, I am the supreme authority of my life. I call the shots. I'm the king, the queen, the ultimate authority in my life. No one — especially no religious bloke — is going to tell me how to live.
And at one level, I totally get it. There's something that irks me when people try to boss me around or exert authority. Maybe it's because I'm immature — so I'm told. When I was at theological college, I had a report written about me saying that Harry questions authority and does not suit ordination. I took that as a mark of honour. It was awesome. It also said I was inappropriate for being ordained because my handshake was too firm. So at that point I just ignored them.
But the reality is, maybe it's because of my maturity — or lack thereof — but actually I just don't like it. And I think the deeper reason is that I am my own boss. I like being the supreme authority in my life. I'm not a child. And we all like having autonomy.
Everyone Serves Something
Or do we? The problem is, everyone serves something. Whether we want to admit it or not, it's true. Everyone offers themselves to someone or something. Everyone lives for something beyond themselves. We all offer ourselves as a sacrifice on some sort of altar. Because we're all serving a cause or a bottom line. We're all serving something, and that something will eventually become your lord and your master — and you, its slave. Whatever it is that controls you is your true lord.
We aren't serving ourselves, usually. We're actually serving something beyond that. Think about it. The person who wants power — what are they controlled by? Power. The person who craves acceptance — what are they controlled by? Insecurity. The person who's a gym devotee and wants the perfect physique — what are they controlled by? Usually a desire for attention.
We don't truly control ourselves most of the time. We are all, to some degree, controlled by whatever the lord is of our lives, whatever that may be. And what this means is that we often end up offering ourselves to whatever it is that we seek as our highest good in life.
Whether you call yourself religious or not — and if you don't call yourself a Jesus person, can I say that's absolutely fine? I'm genuinely not preaching at you here. It's genuinely fine. But regardless of whether you call yourself a religious person, a Christian, a Buddhist, an atheist, vaguely spiritual, whatever — we all have a God, don't we? We all have a king. We all worship and serve something.
And most things that we choose to serve actually enslave us. The specific enslaving thing will depend on whatever particular bottom line you've offered yourself to instead of God. If you're enslaved to approval, you'll experience constant self-pity, envy, hurt feelings, inadequacy. If you're enslaved to success, you're going to experience drivenness, fatigue, worry, fear — being on the rat race, the treadmill.
Whatever you worship will promise you the world but will deliver you worse than nothing. It will deliver you slavery. A constant treadmill of seeking to grasp and keep hold of something that will never truly deliver. And the only outcome of this is brokenness and spiritual exhaustion. Because whatever you worship or serve will promise you the world but always leave you exhausted — anything and everything, that is, except Jesus, the true king.
Jesus as the Better King
Because as I said, whether we want to admit it or not, it's true: everyone offers themselves to someone or something. Everyone lives for something beyond themselves, even the most selfish person. And even if you do truly only live for yourself, a life dedicated to self will ultimately leave you alone.
Those who serve Jesus, who follow him as their king, know that they have a better master. They have a better king who offers fulfillment, acceptance, and purpose. Jesus himself once said that he came not to be served but to serve — his point being that he's the king who will not enslave you, leaving you exhausted, broken, strung out, looking for fulfillment, acceptance, validation, or whatever it is that you are so desperately seeking deep down. Quite the opposite.
And the reason so many serve and follow Jesus as their king is because today's story obviously isn't the final chapter, is it? If you know the Jesus story, you'll know what happened. Three days after he was murdered — a spear run through his side, his lifeless body thrown in a hole — three days later, Jesus rose from the dead.
And I get that that sounds preposterous and absolutely stupid and frankly impossible. What kind of thing are you smoking, Harry? I had a flatmate who once tried to convince me the disciples were on a massive drug trip because they'd done mushrooms. Maybe — but he couldn't tell me what the mushrooms had done. But what actually happened was he rose from the dead, and hundreds of people then saw him over the next few weeks. His body wasn't in the tomb anymore. It was never recovered. And a group of peasants — uneducated men and women who didn't have a cent to their name — went on to change the world.
The most unlikely people, including his half-brother James, publicly declared that Jesus was not just alive but also the king — all because of the resurrection. And if it is true, then it changes everything. If something impossible happened that day and Jesus did come back from the grave, then we should take his word seriously when he says, "My kingdom is not of this world."
Because if Jesus really is the king — if he really is the king who calls his subjects friends and dies on behalf of his subjects, offering them rest, forgiveness, and acceptance for nothing in return — if that's the kind of king that he is, he's probably worth following.
The Invitation
And while Jesus charges you nothing to call him king and follow him, the natural response when you do will be to give him your everything. Because everybody serves something. Whether we want to admit it or not, it's true. Everyone offers themselves to someone or something — sex, drugs, great experiences, wealth, prestige, honour, something. We all offer ourselves to something beyond ourselves.
And those who serve Jesus, who follow him as their king, know that they have a better master. They have a better king who offers true fulfillment, acceptance, and purpose — not because we deserve it, but simply because he loves us.
And the best news of all is this is not an exclusive club. Anyone and everyone is welcome to call Jesus king and follow him. That includes you, and that includes me.
And the even better thing is, unlike a king who, if you really disappoint them, will lop your head off — he doesn't. You disappoint him, and you go back to him and say, "I'm sorry." He goes, "Okay, let's start again." Over and over and over again.
Jesus is the king of the world. He's the king of the universe. And we, today, all celebrate that fact, and we remind ourselves that he is the king who calls his subjects friends and lays down his life for us — because he came not to be served, but to serve.