A Different Kind of King

A Different Kind of King

Throughout history, those in power get celebrated. Their every move is documented, filmed, cheered. When they come to town, it is with great fanfare and pageantry, glitz and glamour, horns blaring and cymbals crashing, bringing a sense of grandeur.

When Charles III gets coronated as King of the United Kingdom next month, it will be a three-day extravaganza, seen by millions worldwide. Only a few thousand commoners will actually be in attendance, those tickets via a public ballot. There will be the coronation service itself, in Westminster Abbey, conducted by the Archbishop of Canterbury (most senior cleric in the Church of England); two grand processions through London, one from Buckingham Palace to the Abbey followed by a return trip to the Palace; the Royal Family balcony appearance; and the three-day event will end with a star-studded concert at Windsor Castle. I recently read that this coronation has no budget and that officials will spend as they see fit. The regalia and pageantry will likely be like none before.  

Pageantry is nothing new. In the ancient Middle East, kings and those in authority wore purple colored clothing, as a symbol of wealth, royalty, and status. Bling is not a new thing either. Gideon (fifth judge of Israel and often considered the greatest of all thirteen judges) wore a purple garment and had rings weighing forty-three pounds (Judges 8:22-27). Horses also represented majesty and power. The kings who sat on David’s throne came riding into town in chariots and on horses (Jeremiah 17:25). Roman military heroes rode into the town they had just conquered, usually on a four-horse chariot, wearing colorful embroidered togas, parading with them both their army and those whom they captured. They also flaunted the spoils of war.

Side note: Conquerors came to town on horses while those coming in peace rode donkeys. Abdon, the eleventh judge of Israel, and who reestablished peace after a disastrous feud that resulted in the death of 42,000 people, rode, along with his forty sons and thirty grandsons on donkeys (Judges 12:14). When David appointed his son Solomon ruler over both Israel and Judah, he (Solomon) rode into Gihon on a donkey (1 Kings 1:32-35).

Now contrast the pageantry and extravagance found in the previous paragraphs with how Jesus rode into Jerusalem today, on what we call Palm Sunday. This king came not as a conquering king but instead as a humble king. He wasn’t wearing bright colored clothing or gaudy jewelry. He rode into town on the back of a borrowed donkey, using other people’s clothing as his saddle. Luke tells us that this particular donkey had never been ridden before (Luke 19:30). People took palm branches and went out to meet him, shouting – “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the king of Israel! (John 12:13).

This triumphal entry narrative appears in all four gospel accounts – Matthew 21:1-11; Mark 11:1-11; Luke 19:28-44; John 12:12-19. More than five hundred years before Jesus rode into Jerusalem, the prophet Zechariah foresaw it happening – “See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey” (Zechariah 9:9).

Jesus is the king who comes in the name of the Lord. He is the King of peace. He is the coming Messiah and King of Israel, fulfilling the Old Testament prophecy.

As you contemplate what Palm Sunday means to you, let me ask you – What kind of king is Jesus? What kind of king rides on a donkey? Is He your King? Is He your Messiah?

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