When Kingdoms Collide

John 18:33–37

Then Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” Pilate replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?” Jesus answered, “My kingdom does not belong to this world. If my kingdom belonged to this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” Pilate asked him, “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

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It's become painfully evident that politics in America has boiled down to a series of seemingly contradictory questions: "Who can save the country?" while also asking ourselves, "Who will act as President in a way that benefits me?"

We've seen it time and time again: campaigns promising salvation through policies, candidates portraying themselves as messianic icons, and movements elevating political figures to the status of the divine. And it is all the more tempting when they use religion to legitimatize their cause.It is, though, as Alan Alda's character in the TV show The West Wing said, "It's the easiest lie they'll ever have to tell."

It's tempting to trust someone we can see who claims they can improve our lives. 

But herein lies the problem. When we ask, "Who will save us?" or "Who will lead in a way that benefits me?", we reveal our heart's priorities that run counter to God's. We reveal that we are not looking for Jesus to be Lord of all creation but a mortal leader, made of dust, to rule for our benefit at the cost of others and creation. 

The kingdom of Jesus is not like the kingdoms of the earth. It doesn't fit into our political systems or personal agendas. We may think that the hope we place into one party, one candidate, or one belief makes up the kingdom of Jesus, but we hear in the reading from John declaring that his kingdom is "not of this world."

The kingdom of Jesus challenges our preconceived notions.

So, which kingdom are we serving? Do we align ourselves with the kingdoms of the earth, with empires like Rome? Or do we make our home in the kingdom of Jesus, a kingdom that sheds our vain standards and instead embraces God's radical transformative heart? We must ask ourselves these questions in the coming years, though we should be asking more frequently than that. 

If we're willing to wrestle with these questions of where our allegiance lies, we might discover that our hearts have been following Pilate and Caesar for much longer than we would care to admit. 

The Roman Empire was not the shining city on a hill we've romanticized in films. It cast an image of stability and security through brute strength by crushing opposition and subjugating people to use them for the benefit of Roman citizens. 

The image of the Roman Empire as an all-powerful entity was so alluring that those who were subjugated and oppressed would sign up and risk their lives in service to Rome for the chance to secure Roman citizenship; they were willing to become oppressors if it meant obtaining a little bit more freedom. 

It would appear that not much has changed. Though the years have passed and civilizations have come and gone, we still live with hearts that are drawn to the powers and promises of earthly kingdoms. And due to the nature of our economic philosophy of always getting ahead, getting more, we are now more than ever willing to sacrifice others for the chance to get ahead for ourselves. The love for earthly power is made all the more alluring by those who seek it when they make claims that God would endorse the economic enslavement and oppression of others for the sake of a select few. 

We embrace the Empire of Rome because, for a moment, it assuages our fears. Fears of losing what we think was our, but was never ours, to begin with.  We forget that the things we fear losing sit at the table of abundance in the kingdom of Jesus. This fear keeps us from having authentic conversations that result in change because we've already subscribed to one way of thinking that closes our hearts. It's that ugliness that rears its head when we talk about homelessness, the drug crisis, refugees, immigrants, the unemployed, the sick and dying, the widows, and the orphans. 

Do we want to live in a kingdom that regards the least of these as threats? Do we want to worship an Emperor, a ruler, who views the least of these, the greatest in the kingdom of Jesus, as stepping stones for our success? If we do, then that means we live with closed hands and hearts. Living in Rome means that we live with closed hands and fists clenched tight; it means that we don't offer charity freely for fear that someone with more will destroy what we have left. 

And this is what makes the kingdom of Jesus such a threat. The kingdom of Jesus proclaims a message radical and dangerous enough that Rome and the powers of today would call it unpatriotic or heresy. The kingdom of Jesus shatters the false notions and promises of security and stability by revealing that they are promises founded on human greed and not on the heart of God, a heart for God’s people and creation. 

When the status quo is challenged, there is bound to be opposition. The ancient Greek philosopher Socrates was placed on trial for displaying impiety, and during his hearing, he said, "I would rather die having spoken in my manner, than speak in your manner and live." (The Apology of Socrates, 37–42)

Jesus would die for a righteous and holy truth rather than to conform to Rome's will or ours. Jesus invites us to a kingdom that requires we relinquish control and trust in God's transformative love, a love that upends systems of greed and oppression, for the kingdom of Jesus is "not of this world."

It is a kingdom "not of this world." It liberates instead of oppresses. It unclenches our tightly wound fists to let go of what we are holding. The kingdom of Jesus invites us to let go of the treasures we think are valuable and scarce because there is enough. If we take the courageous step of letting go and unclenching our fists, we will see how free our lives can be without fear and hate. 

Jesus calls us to be part of this radically different kingdom. Perhaps the most radical part is that Christ remains loyal to us even when we betray the kingdom of Jesus. No litmus test, no oath of loyalty is demanded, and no retribution if we fail or go wayward; Christ remains a king who welcomes us back and offers us the gift of another chance.

It is a kingdom where, instead of hate and fear, rule as a method of control, assumptions and biases are cast aside. A place where truth penetrates our hearts to show us our ignorance and foolish understandings and the hurtful ways we've treated one another. In the days and years to come, we must decide which kingdom we are loyal to. Will we serve and dwell in the kingdom of man or God? 

Friends, will you live in the kingdom of Jesus? Will you let go of shortsighted gains that put others in harm's way? Will you evolve your sense of welcome and live as a resurrection people? For we cannot serve two masters. So ask your hearts where they want to call home, though I hope it is in the kingdom of Jesus, and I hope you contribute your creativity, imagination and love into casting a hopeful vision that shouts down the facade of earthly grandeur.

For the kingdom of Jesus is “not of this world.” Yet it is open, ready, and ready to receive all who are ready and eager to make a difference, let the kingdom of Jesus reign, and speak the truth that collides with the kingdoms of our day.