By Revd Nigel Adkinson

[Bible reading: Luke 23: 33–43]

Grace to you and peace from the Crucified and Risen King.

Amen

Christ the King Sunday is supposed to sound triumphant. We expect trumpets, crowns, and glory. But Luke gives us a very different picture. Instead of a throne, Jesus hangs on a cross. Instead of royal robes, he is stripped. Instead of a crown of gold, he wears thorns.  Instead of supporters, he is surrounded by mockers.

Above him a sign reads: ‘This is the King of the Jews.’ It is meant as a joke – yet it tells the deepest truth in the universe.

From the beginning, Jesus’ kingship was unlike any other. He came not to dominate, but to heal. Not to demand service, but to serve. Not to take life, but to give it.

And on the cross, we see the full revelation of what God’s power actually looks like: self-giving love that refuses to stop loving, even when it is rejected.

The world says kings must be strong, victorious, untouchable. But Christ shows us that true kingship is found in humility, vulnerability, and sacrificial love.

On either side of Jesus are two criminals. They look at the same crucified man and see two very different things. One joins the mockers: ‘Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!’ His vision of a king is the same as the world’s: a king should fix everything with force; a king should escape suffering; a king should use power to avoid weakness.

But the other criminal sees something deeper. He sees a king whose love remains even in agony. He sees a kingdom that can reach into a place as dark as Golgotha. And he says the most honest prayer in Scripture:

‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’

He is the first person in the Gospel to recognise that Jesus’ kingdom is revealed on the cross, not apart from it.

Jesus answers him: ‘Today you will be with me in paradise.’

Not tomorrow. Not someday. Not if you get your life together. Today.

In the middle of betrayal, cruelty, injustice, and suffering, Jesus still gives mercy. In the darkest moment in human history, Jesus still opens the door of his kingdom.

This is what it means for Christ to be King: No one is beyond the reach of his mercy. Not the guilty. Not the broken. Not the fearful. Not the ones who feel they have nothing to offer.

This criminal has no good works to point to, no future to devote to God. He has only a plea—and that is enough for Jesus.

Christ the King Sunday asks us to confront the shocking truth that Jesus reigns not by avoiding suffering but by entering it with us.

He reigns in: hospital rooms prison cells gravesides lonely apartments anxious hearts and broken relationships. He reigns not from above our pain, but from within it.

The cross is his throne, because love that will die for you is the only kind of love strong enough to rule the world.

Luke 23 challenges us to ask: What king do we expect Jesus to be?

Do we want a king who fixes everything instantly? A king who protects us from all hardship? A king who keeps a safe distance from the world’s mess?

Or do we want this King—The one who forgives his enemies, who welcomes the outcast, who loves the unlovable, who carries our sorrows, who promises paradise to the dying thief?

When we choose Jesus as King, we choose a kingdom shaped by mercy, forgiveness, and self-giving love.

At the end of the church year, we are not pointed to a distant throne but to a cross. Because there, at our worst moment, we discover God at his best. And we hear the same promise spoken to the criminal spoken also to us:

‘You will be with me.’

This is the King who remembers us. This is the King who saves us. This is the King who reigns through love that never ends.

Amen.

As Christ comes and takes His seat and all are summoned to Him, we are going to have a strange sense that we’ve met Him before. And He will confirm that.

For indeed, we have met Him and He is the strangest King of all. He is a King who is hungry, thirsty, sick, lonely, a foreigner, in prison, and a stranger. And the list He gives should not be seen as exhaustive, for He is in the needy, whether rich or poor. He is in the discouraged loved one who cannot find a job; He is in our children who need to be taught and encouraged; he is in the co-worker who just lost his wife; he is in the customer who was diagnosed with cancer. He is in the lost youth or family member who needs instruction and needs to be drawn back to the sacraments. He’s even in us, in our struggles and needs.

Yes, we have met this King every day. And He is not merely saying that these people have some moral union with Him. He is saying, mystically, that He IS each one of them. And when we cared for them, we were not simply doing something ethical; we were serving and caring for Him: ‘You did it for me.’

What a strange King! We think of kings in palaces, far removed from trouble. But this King is naked, poor, hungry, and thirsty. We walk past Him every day.

And to those who have cared for Him he says, ‘I will never forget what you have done.’ The poor may not be able to repay us, but King Jesus will repay us a millionfold. And on the day of our judgment, we will look at Jesus and say, ‘I know you! I recognize you!”’ And He will say, “’I know you, too … come, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.’

Yes, Jesus our King, the strangest King you will ever meet: a caring and close King, a conquering King who never forces, a King who is hungry and thirsty, a King who reigns from the Cross, a King who dies so we don’t have to, a King who washes our feet, a King who comes to serve rather than to be served. He is a King, all right, one who rules with love, not by force. He’s the strangest King you’ve ever met, and you meet Him every day: in the Eucharist, in the poor, in His Word, in your heart, in the events of your day … in your very self.

Christ our King, on this day we lift our eyes to your cross and see the depth of your love for the world.
Teach us to recognise your face in the hungry and the lonely, the lost and the hurting. Make us servants of your kingdom – brave in compassion, bold in justice, joyful in hope.
Rule our hearts, shape our lives, and guide your church to be a sign of your coming kingdom, where love has the last word. In your holy name we pray,

Amen!