The King We Want vs. The King We Got
John 12:12–27; John 19:16b–22 (NIV)
Introduction: Naming Without Knowing
Have you ever been invited to something without fully understanding what it was? Years ago, a friend invited me to join a new platform I had never heard of called Facebook. Not quite sure what it was, I signed up under the alias Mike McMeans instead of my real name. For a while, I didn’t think anything of it. Until one day someone approached me with a level of familiarity that caught me off guard. When I told him we had never met, he confidently replied, “Yes, we have. You’re Mike McMeans.” What struck me in that moment was the irony. The more certain he was that he thought he knew me, the clearer it became that he did not know me at all. Something similar is happening in our Gospel readings. In both passages, Jesus is given a title that is entirely true, and yet profoundly misunderstood by those who speak it.
On Palm Sunday, the crowd shouts, “Blessed is the king of Israel!” filled with hope and expectation. A week later, Pilate places a sign above the cross that reads, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews,” a statement meant as mockery. In both cases, the title is accurate, but they do not truly understand Jesus.
Two Parades, One King: The First Parade
When Jesus enters Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, he does so with deliberate symbolism, fulfilling the words of the prophet: “Do not be afraid, Daughter Zion; see, your king is coming, seated on a donkey’s colt” (John 12:14–15, NIV) In the ancient world, kings entered cities on war horses, surrounded by soldiers, displaying strength and victory. These were carefully staged moments meant to project power and command allegiance. Jesus does the opposite. He comes on a donkey, accompanied not by an army but by a small group of followers. His entrance is humble, yet the crowd responds with enthusiasm. They recognize something significant about him, but they misunderstand what it means. Their expectations are shaped by longing for political liberation. They want a king who will overthrow Rome and restore their national identity. They interpret Jesus through the lens of their hopes, rather than allowing Jesus to redefine those hopes altogether. Jesus begins to unsettle those expectations almost immediately, when he says: “Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds” (John 12:24, NIV).The logic of his kingdom is not conquest, but sacrifice. It is not about grasping for power, but surrendering power.
Two Parades, One King: The Second Parade
A week later, there is another procession. This time, it is not marked by celebration, but by suffering. Jesus walks the path that has come to be known as the Via Dolorosa, the way of suffering, carrying his cross toward Golgotha. This too is a public display, but now one of humiliation rather than triumph. Golgotha, the place of the skull, is not hidden away. It is located along a well-traveled road, visible to all who pass by. Crucifixion is meant to be seen. It is a warning, a demonstration of what happens to those who challenge the authority of Rome. Over time, this place came to be known as Calvary, a word that has come to represent not only the location of Jesus’ death, but the saving work accomplished there. And here, at this place, Pilate orders a sign to be placed above Jesus’ head: “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” Written in multiple languages, it is meant for everyone to see. The religious leaders object, not only rejecting Jesus, but attempting to redefine him. But Pilate refuses to change it. The title remains. The same words shouted in celebration on Palm Sunday are now fixed above a crucified man. The crowd was right about who Jesus was, but wrong about how he would reign.
The Scandal of a Crucified King
One of the earliest images of Jesus, found in roman catacombs is known as the Alexamenos graffito, depicts a crucified figure with the head of a donkey, accompanied by the inscription, “Alexamenos worships his god.” It is a mocking image, revealing how absurd the idea of a crucified king seemed within the ancient world. And yet, that tension remains. We are drawn to strength and outcomes that make sense within the frameworks we understand. We are comfortable with a Jesus who inspires or comforts us. But we become uneasy when his kingship begins to to challenge our assumptions, or to call us into places we would rather avoid. We want to crown Jesus as king, but we are often hesitant to follow him to the cross.
Sometimes that resistance is subtle. It shows up in the ways we reinterpret his teachings, in the commands we quietly avoid, or in the version of discipleship we construct that allows us to remain largely unchanged while still considering ourselves faithful.
The Gospel Invitation: From Resistance to Trust
The challenge is not simply that we misunderstand Jesus. It is that even when we begin to see him more clearly, we discover that we lack the capacity to follow him as he calls us to. We may admire his humility, be moved by his sacrifice, or agree with his teaching. But when those teachings press into our lives in concrete ways, calling us to forgive, to surrender control, to love those we would rather avoid, we begin to realize that something deeper is required. This is why the cross is not only an example, but an act of transformation. Jesus does not simply show us what sacrificial love looks like. He accomplishes what we could never accomplish ourselves. He bears sin, carries guilt, and absorbs the weight of human rebellion, doing so willingly, not as a victim, but as a king who gives his life for his people. And so the invitation of the gospel is not first, “Try harder,” but “Trust in what Christ has done.” It is an invitation to shift the weight of your life off your own ability and onto the finished work of Jesus. It is a movement from admiration to trust. For some, that may be the first step to start a journey of faith. For others, it may be a renewed step, recognizing areas of resistance in one’s own life that still remain.
A Cross-Shaped Community
The Jesus-centered life does not remain internal. It begins to take visible shape in how we live together. If Jesus is truly king, then his way becomes our way. Within the Anabaptist tradition, this means that the cross is not only where we are saved, but how we are shaped. It calls us to examine where we resist his kingship in practical terms. Where do we choose control over surrender? Where do we prioritize comfort over obedience? Where do we reshape Jesus to fit our preferences? It also shapes us into a particular kind of community. Not one defined by power as the world understands it, but one marked by humility, reconciliation, and peace. It calls us to forgiveness instead of retaliation, and unity even in the midst of disagreement. And it reminds us that we do not walk this path alone. Following Jesus is not an individual project, but a shared journey. We encourage one another, challenge one another, and support one another as we seek to reflect the character of Christ. Because the cross is not only the place where we receive salvation. It is the pattern by which we are formed into a people who look like Jesus.
Conclusion: The King We Needed All Along
“Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” The question is not whether this title is true. The question is whether we will follow this kind of king. Because we may want to crown Jesus as king, but we are often hesitant to follow him to the cross. And yet it is precisely there, along the way of suffering, that we discover that the king we resisted is the very king we have always needed.