The King We Need, Not The King We Want

The King We Need, Not The King We Want

Sermon by Alan Swartz – November 23, 2025
EUMC & BCUMC – Christ the King Sunday

We live in a world that groans with anxiety. We have car loans and mortgages to repay. We scroll through our feeds, watching the relentless cycles of crisis and conflict, and deep within us, a primal desire stirs for someone to step in and simply fix it. We long for a savior-figure who can silence the chaos, bend history to their will, and restore a sense of order to our frantic lives. It is a profoundly human desire to find a powerful figure who can make everything right, a king who will finally deliver on our hopes for security and control.

But on this Christ the King Sunday, we are confronted with a kingdom that operates on a radically different logic. The scriptures present us not with the king we might design in our fear, but with the king we desperately need. Today we will see the profound and challenging difference between the king we often want—one who serves our immediate desires for power and comfort—and the king we truly need, who comes to heal, restore, and reign with justice and mercy.

This morning, then, we must ask ourselves a guiding question: On this day when we proclaim Christ as King, what kind of king are we truly celebrating, and what does it mean to be a citizen of his wonderful, life-affirming  kingdom? To answer that, let us first look back at the historical roots of this very human dilemma.

The King We Want: A Cautionary Tale of Flawed Desire

To understand our own often-flawed desires, there is no better case study than ancient Israel. For generations, they had lived under the direct rule of God, a unique and holy calling. God was their deliverer, their judge, and their protector. Granted, they often failed in following God.

But as we read in 1 Samuel, a discontent was growing. They looked around at the neighboring empires with their gleaming chariots and imposing monarchs, and they began to feel inadequate.

The elders of Israel came to the prophet Samuel with a demand: they wanted a king “like all the nations” to judge them and fight their battles. Their request was not born of faith, but of fear and a desire for worldly conformity. They wanted to trade the holy mystery of God’s reign for the predictable security of a human institution.

Samuel, heartbroken, brought their request to God, who saw it for what it was: a rejection of his own kingship. Nevertheless, God instructed Samuel to give them a solemn warning about the true cost of the king they wanted. This worldly king, Samuel told them, would be defined by a single action: he would take. He would take their sons and press them into military service. He would take their daughters to be his perfumers and cooks. He would take the best of their fields, vineyards, and olive groves. In the end, Samuel warned, this king would take and take until “you shall be his slaves.”

This historical account is a powerful cautionary tale. It reminds us that sometimes God grants our misguided desires to teach us the folly of placing our ultimate trust in human systems of power. In demanding a king who would take up their battles, they received a king who would take everything else.

The King We Need: A Portrait in Three Panels

In stark contrast to the king who takes, scripture presents us with a multi-faceted portrait of the king who gives. This is the king we need, Jesus Christ. The lectionary readings for today from Jeremiah, Paul, and Matthew each provide a crucial panel in this triptych, revealing a kingship that subverts every worldly expectation.

The Righteous King of Justice (Jeremiah 23:1-6)

The prophet Jeremiah spoke to a people whose leaders had utterly failed them. He condemned the self-serving “shepherds”—their kings and priests—who had scattered God’s flock. While the shepherds of Israel took for themselves, God promises a king who gives justice. Into this context of corruption, God makes a stunning promise: he himself will gather the remnant of his flock and “raise up for David a righteous Branch.” This king will be different. Jeremiah proclaims:

“The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. ... And this is the name by which he will be called: ‘The Lord is our righteousness.’” (Jeremiah 23:5-6, NRSVue)

The king we need is not one who reflects our flawed priorities. He is one who embodies the very character of God—his justice, his righteousness. He comes not to endorse our agenda, but to establish God’s agenda of healing and restoration for all.

Jeremiah promised a king who would bring God’s justice to earth. But the Apostle Paul expands our vision, showing us that this king’s reign is not merely national, but cosmic.

The Cosmic King of Reconciliation (Colossians 1:11-20)

In his letter to the Colossians, Paul reveals that Christ’s kingship is cosmic in scope. Christ is the “image of the invisible God,” the creator and sustainer of the universe in whom “all things hold together.” His authority is absolute, not because of military might, but because he is the very source and goal of all creation.

But what is the purpose of this cosmic reign? Not domination, but reconciliation. Paul writes that God was pleased:

“...through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.” (Colossians 1:19-20, NRSVue)

Here is the stunning paradox of the kingdom. Worldly kings take power; this king gives himself to make peace. His throne is a cross. His crown is made of thorns. His power is cruciform—it is cross-shaped, revealed not in coercion, but in a self-giving love that absorbs all the world’s violence and returns only forgiveness. This is the king whose power makes all things whole.

A good example of this can be found in the Book of Revelation. On the island of Patmos Jesus gives a revelation to John. In that revelation John sees the heavenly glory and hears the celestial songs of praise to the glory and wonder of God. Heaven is looking for someone who is worthy of breaking the seals of the scroll. There is only one who is mighty enough — only one who is worthy enough — the Lion of Judah. But when John turns to see this magnificent Lion of Judah, what does he see? He sees a Lamb that has been slain. This is the King of kings! “The Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.” (John 1:29)

If this cosmic king’s power is revealed in self-giving, sacrificial, cruciform love on a cross, where do we see that reign active today? Matthew’s gospel gives us the shocking and humbling answer: we find the king not by looking up at the heavens, but by looking into the faces of the vulnerable.

The Servant King of Mercy (Matthew 25:31-46)

Finally, Matthew’s Gospel gives us a startling vision of the king on his judgment seat. When the Son of Man comes in his glory, he separates the nations. But the criterion for judgment is not what anyone would expect. This king judges us not on what we have taken for ourselves—in wealth, status, or piety—but on what we have given to others. To the righteous, he says, “I was hungry and you gave me food.” Confused, they ask when they ever did this for him, and the king delivers the central revelation of his kingdom:

“And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!” (Matthew 25:40, NLT)

The shock of this text is that neither group, the sheep nor the goats, recognized Christ in the vulnerable. And this reveals a profound truth about God’s prevenient grace—the grace that goes before us. The king is already present in the hungry, the stranger, and the prisoner, extending his grace to the world before we ever arrive on the scene. Our acts of mercy are not about bringing Christ to a place he is not; they are about responding to the Christ who is already there, inviting us into his work. The king we need is mysteriously present in the least of these, and his reign is made visible whenever we respond.

Conclusion: Living as Citizens of the Kingdom We Need

The contrast could not be clearer. We want a king who takes our side, blesses our priorities, and preserves our power. But the king we need is one who gives righteousness, makes peace through self-sacrifice, and calls us to give ourselves away for “the least of these.”

The challenge for us today is to align our lives with the reality of his reign. How do we do this? Let me suggest three ways, rooted in our Wesleyan heritage:

1.     Commit to mercy as a means of grace. Choose one tangible way to serve the vulnerable. Volunteer at a food ministry, visit the lonely, welcome a stranger. See this not as a duty to be performed, but as a “means of grace”—a sacred practice through which we encounter the living Christ and are transformed by his presence.

2.   Advocate for justice as social holiness. Following the righteous king calls us to care about the systems that affect the vulnerable. For those of us in the Wesleyan tradition, a personal faith that does not actively seek justice in society is an incomplete faith. True holiness is social holiness. This means using our voices to advocate for fairness in our communities.

3.   Cultivate compassion as sanctification. We cannot give what we do not have. We must engage in the spiritual disciplines—prayer, fasting, study—that soften our hearts. This is the lifelong work of sanctification, the process by which the Holy Spirit makes us more like Christ, forming us into people who can truly see and serve our king in others.

Brothers and sisters, Christ is the just, merciful, and reconciling king we truly need. The great invitation of the Christian life is not just to follow the king we need, but to let the Spirit reshape our hearts until he is the only king we want.

Let the Holy Spirit come into your life.

Turn from the empires built on political might and economic exploitation.

Turn to the Kingdom of our Lord. A Kingdom that is seen in the vulnerable and poor.

Choose this true King we need by taking up our cross and following him.

+ In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.