Today is Christ the King Sunday.

Today is the crown of the story — the story which the church calendar faithfully unfolds for us week by week every year. 

This is the coronation day of our LORD and savior Jesus Christ. 

Maybe, just guessing here, 

you have never attended the coronation of a political monarch.

I wonder though, if you know this scene:
A groggy princess with wildly disheveled hair 

slowly awakens from her delicate and drooly slumber

A servant knocks and a voice calls from outside her chamber, 

telling her it’s time to put on the custom gown 

which has been waiting for today’s special occassion 

She yawns, she stretches,

and suddenly her eyes flare open in delight…

It’s coronation day! 

a peppy, triumphant song begins, she dashes out into the castle hall, 

she twirls in her joy, and she wonders at the stacks of salad plates on which the evening’s happy guests will dine…

(playfully)

Whether or not you are familiar with Disney’s landmark masterpiece Frozen, 

You get the vibe, right? 

A coronation is a day for joy and jubilee, for parades and pageantry. 

And yet, every three years, our church tradition invites us to dwell 

in the crucifixion scene of Luke’s gospel on this day. 

Which, you may have noticed, has a very different vibe… 

Maybe you, like me, have never planned a coronation yourself.

But do you find yourself imagining that maybe 

you might have done things a little bit differently? 

First, let’s talk about the ambiance. 

Instead of grand proclamations of highest praise, 

Jesus becomes the target of torment and mocking.

The royal titles which reveal his truest identity 

are spat at him

 with sarcastic and cruel irony. 

If you are the Messiah of God…

If you are the King of the Jews…

And what about the itinerary of this coronation? 

Instead of dancing and celebration,

The focal point of this scene is Jesus: subjected to death on a Roman cross. 

This is a death of highest shame. 

Not good optics for anyone hoping to 

leave behind a legacy of glory and honor on this earth. 

And finally… location, location, location…

Instead of a cathedral or a ballroom,

We find ourselves at a place called The Skull. 

This is a place where hope is abandoned,

where the empire silences its rebels and prophets,

where both the oppressed and the oppressors lose their humanity. 

Jesus hangs here, between two condemned criminals…

It seems to me that the whole ordeal was a PR disaster.

What kind of king is crowned like this? 

What kind of King is Christ? 

I recently had the opportunity to listen to Dennae Pierre—a pastor, church planter, and equipper of multi-ethnic churches in Phoenix, AZ. 

She was speaking on the complexity of the pain and division that surfaced in her church during 2020. 

from the racist slurs spray-painted on the doors of their building

to the 100 (mostly white) members who left their church of 250 

Danae reflected on the cycles of theory and debate 

that failed to heal wounds and restore souls. 

She shares: 

“To care for each other and for ourselves we can’t just analyze. 

We can’t just keep debating and arguing facts… 

It’s so important that we are creating opportunities for ourselves… 

to get in touch with the physical experience of suffering. 

And if it’s not our own suffering, 

we’re entering relationships with people who are 

so that we can co-suffer 

and have co-passion with them 

and lament with them.” 

“We’re entering relationships with people who are [in pain]

so that we can co-suffer and have co-passion with them.”

In practice, this has meant sharing more art and music and beauty.

It also means training their leaders in empathy

—how to be still and listen to others. 

How to feel within their own bodies the movement of emotion 

which was stirred by the stories they heard. 

They have gotten serious about the gritty work of reconciliation, 

which isn’t possible without ‘getting embodied’ with one another. 

What kind of King is Christ? 

A king who throws off 

all the pomp and privilege of imperial royalty 

and humbles himself

in order to be near to us in the places where we suffer most. 

God with us.

Embodied.

Emmanuel. 

The king who co-suffers.

In Jesus Christ, our reconciliation with God is not 

just a theory or idea for the future, 

It is an embodied reality that he lived and died to make real to us—today.  

Christ the King is the one who joins us in the place called The Skull 

in order to restore our humanity. 

Do you know that place?

Do you know that scene: 

the first holiday season after the divorce

—Christmas morning without your kids at home

the time-frozen days between the biopsy and the phone call 

the space of impossible decision as an employer

— Who will keep their jobs? 

They are places none of us want to go. Let alone stay. 

Places that make us want to run or get numb as fast as possible. 

Of course, the two men who were crucified with Jesus 

didn’t have the luxury of running.

didn’t have the freedom to numb themselves. 

The first lashes out in a fit of rage (for which no one could blame him). 

And the second does something remarkable. 

The second man knows his own suffering.

He knows his own guilt.

All he has left is to be still and know the One who co-suffers with him. 

To know the empathetic eyes, 

the present mercy,

the embodied compassion with him. 

What if this is how we crown our king —  today and every day?

…by entering each other’s pain and joy.

…by listening to each other’s stories and opening ourselves to empathy.

…by forgiving. 

…by inviting one another to be more fully human.

This is how the Holy Spirit leads us to offer 

the assurance of God’s presence in this world.

This is how we proclaim Christ as King for each other.

The One who promises Paradise, today. 

The One who co-suffers with us, 

because he is not interested in Paradise without us. 

Alleluia. Amen.