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The Humble King
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Connected by scripture or shared themes.
The Humble King
Continue exploring
Connected by scripture or shared themes.
Today is Palm Sunday, and we gather to explore the most important question that every human being who has ever lived—or ever will live—must answer: Who is Jesus?
This question is not merely academic. It shapes lives, defines purposes, and demands a response from each of us. Unlike the television show "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire," where a contestant could walk away from a difficult question, we cannot avoid answering this one. How we live our lives is itself an answer to it.
Let's turn to Matthew 21:1-17, where we see Jesus orchestrating his arrival in Jerusalem with remarkable intentionality. Six or seven hundred years before Jesus was born, the prophet Zephaniah had written:
Tell the people of Jerusalem, look, your king is coming to you. He's humble, riding on a donkey, riding on a donkey's colt.
Jesus ensures this prophecy is fulfilled. He sends his disciples to retrieve a donkey and colt, enters Jerusalem on the donkey, and the crowds respond with jubilation:
Praise God for the son of David. Bless things on the one who comes in the name of the Lord. Praise God in the highest heaven.
But notice the confusion: "Who is this?" they ask. Some worship; some question. Some oppose. The same people who shout praise moments later ask, "Who is this?"
This is crucial: Jesus does not present himself here as a prophet, a good leader, or merely a good man. He presents himself as king. And that forces a response. When someone claims to be king, it demands decision. It requires us to choose: Do we believe? What will we do about it?
But here's what confuses us: Jesus is a king like no other. In Jesus' day, when a king arrived in a city, people expected pomp, ceremony, preparation, servants, splendor. Plutarch wrote of a triumph that lasted three days, yet "even this time was scarcely sufficient for the display of all this splendor."
Yet Jesus arrives on a humble donkey. No white stallion. No chariot. No grand entourage. The crowds simply spread their garments and cut branches from trees.
Consider the paradoxes:
Who is the king you are following? Are you following the humble servant king who said, "I am gentle and humble in heart"? Or are you pursuing some other king—one who will make a way for you to get what you want?
Three skeptics come to mind who encountered this question:
Frank Morrison was a journalist determined to disprove the resurrection. He read the Gospels thinking it was rubbish, intending to write a book dismantling the account. But as he investigated the historical evidence, something unexpected happened. He ended up writing Who Moved the Stone?—a book arguing for the resurrection. He became a follower of Christ for the rest of his life.
Lew Wallace was a military general and lawyer who openly called himself an atheist. He decided to examine Christianity and expose it. But as he investigated the life of Jesus, he found himself unable to dismiss what he discovered. He wrote a different book than planned: Ben-Hur, one of the greatest Christian novels ever written, proving the life of Christ.
Gilbert West was an English thinker, deeply skeptical of Christianity. He set out to explain away the resurrection through rigorous historical study. Instead, he wrote Observations on the History and the Evidence of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ—arguing for it, not against it.
Three different men. Three different backgrounds. All skeptical. All arrived at the same place: Jesus is king.
When we truly accept that Jesus is king, several things happen:
We hear of wars and rumors of wars, but our king told us these things would happen. When we read of Christian leaders falling away, we are concerned—but not rocked—because our king said, "I will build my church and the gates of hell will not stand against it."
So much of our worship centers on a question: "Jesus, what can you do for me?" But when Jesus is king, the question flips: "What can I do for you?"
In an age where people are dying through lack of purpose, suddenly we find: "I have a purpose. It's to serve my king." It's not about him aligning to my will; it's about me aligning to his will. It's not about the world serving me; it's about me serving him.
Jesus doesn't settle for surface-level worship. He doesn't want once-a-year, once-a-Sunday palm-branch waving. He wants transformation that goes deep.
Notice what happens when Jesus enters the temple. He immediately clears out the junk—the money changers, the tables, the corruption. Why? Because God had designed the temple's outer court as a place for Gentiles—those far from God—to look in and see what God is like.
But over centuries, that space had filled with religious paraphernalia that pushed people away instead of welcoming them.
The temple once was a building. Now it's us. We are the temple of God.
So when we claim Jesus is king, it cannot be merely surface-level. It must change everything:
Wherever we turn up, we reflect the king. Our lives either draw people toward Jesus or push them away.
I remember working in a manufacturing company's senior leadership. A new CEO joined our team. During an executive meeting he didn't attend, I called to check on him. He was 45 minutes away in Kettering and asked me to lie for him—to tell the team he had an emergency meeting.
In that moment, the Holy Spirit moved me to say: "If I can lie for you, I can lie to you. And I'll never do that."
He was furious. "You're calling me a liar?"
"Yes."
But that moment did two things. First, it reminded me: I have a greater king than you. That gives immense security. Second, it changed our relationship. Even in his anger, he realized I was telling the truth. He confided in me things he told no one else, asked me questions he asked no one senior to me—because he knew I would never lie.
That's what it looks like to follow the servant king.
The temple's outer court didn't fill with junk overnight. It happened little by little. A small section here. A small section there. "Oh, that won't be noticed. There's still plenty of space." This went on for years, maybe decades, until the entire court was full.
It's the same with us. Stuff creeps in. Compromises. Small deviations. Gradually, our temples fill with things that shouldn't be there.
Right now, God is clearing his church out. He's preparing us for revival. Don't be surprised if leaders fall. Don't be surprised if things get cleared away. Why? Because God wants his church to display his glory. He wants our temples ready for him.
Jesus resists the pride of the religious leaders and draws out worship from the children. He later said: "Unless you become like a child, you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven."
Why? Because he constantly resists pride in us and constantly gives grace to humility in us.
How do we meet this king?
Later in Revelation, Jesus appears on a white horse—the king of judgment. But I tell you, you don't want to meet that king too early. You want to meet the humble king riding on a donkey. And how do you meet that king?
By humbling yourself like a child. By saying: "Jesus, help me. Jesus, I'm struggling. Jesus, I want to obey. My flesh is weak, but my spirit wants to obey you."
You meet that king in a place of humility.
Here is the greatest question we will all answer, one day and every day: Who is Jesus?
Unlike "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire," you cannot choose to walk away. You cannot see the question and say, "I'll just keep what I have and not answer." There is no option.
Every single one of us will answer this question. How we live our lives is our answer. If you decide not to think about it—that is an answer. If you decide he is not king—that is an answer. But if you decide he is king, then from that moment, everything changes.
You find purpose. You find comfort. You find strength. You align yourself with the humble king who will transform you into his image, so that people say: "Oh, the reason they're like that is because they're following the servant king."
There's a story that has inspired me. In 1732, two young men named Johann and David departed from Herrnhut in Germany, where they'd lived all their lives with their families. They'd heard of enslaved people on the island of St. Thomas who had no one preaching the gospel to them.
So these two young men in their early twenties decided to leave everything—their homes, their families—to sell themselves into slavery so they could witness to the enslaved islanders.
As they departed, they said: "May the lamb that was slain receive the reward of his suffering."
That statement became the slogan for a missionary movement that became the greatest missionary movement of that century. Thousands came to Christ through their witness. Churches still stand on that island because of their sacrifice.
That's what happens when we really believe Jesus is king. It's no longer about our will or our desire. We start to pray "Your kingdom come" with new energy. We align our lives with his kingdom with new direction and power.
If you have never made Jesus lord of your life, if you've never put him in that place as king, I'd love to pray with you. Although he is king, he doesn't force that upon us. He invites us to invite him in.
If that's you, pray with me:
Jesus, I choose today to follow you as king. I choose today to align my life with you. Forgive me for the sin I carry into this relationship. Wash me clean and make me whole. Use my life for your purpose. In Jesus' name. Amen.
As we close, ask the Holy Spirit: What is one thing you want me to do in response to this passage? Not ten things. One thing. Let him speak to your heart.
Today is Palm Sunday, and we gather to explore the most important question that every human being who has ever lived—or ever will live—must answer: Who is Jesus?
This question is not merely academic. It shapes lives, defines purposes, and demands a response from each of us. Unlike the television show "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire," where a contestant could walk away from a difficult question, we cannot avoid answering this one. How we live our lives is itself an answer to it.
Let's turn to Matthew 21:1-17, where we see Jesus orchestrating his arrival in Jerusalem with remarkable intentionality. Six or seven hundred years before Jesus was born, the prophet Zephaniah had written:
Tell the people of Jerusalem, look, your king is coming to you. He's humble, riding on a donkey, riding on a donkey's colt.
Jesus ensures this prophecy is fulfilled. He sends his disciples to retrieve a donkey and colt, enters Jerusalem on the donkey, and the crowds respond with jubilation:
Praise God for the son of David. Bless things on the one who comes in the name of the Lord. Praise God in the highest heaven.
But notice the confusion: "Who is this?" they ask. Some worship; some question. Some oppose. The same people who shout praise moments later ask, "Who is this?"
This is crucial: Jesus does not present himself here as a prophet, a good leader, or merely a good man. He presents himself as king. And that forces a response. When someone claims to be king, it demands decision. It requires us to choose: Do we believe? What will we do about it?
But here's what confuses us: Jesus is a king like no other. In Jesus' day, when a king arrived in a city, people expected pomp, ceremony, preparation, servants, splendor. Plutarch wrote of a triumph that lasted three days, yet "even this time was scarcely sufficient for the display of all this splendor."
Yet Jesus arrives on a humble donkey. No white stallion. No chariot. No grand entourage. The crowds simply spread their garments and cut branches from trees.
Consider the paradoxes:
Who is the king you are following? Are you following the humble servant king who said, "I am gentle and humble in heart"? Or are you pursuing some other king—one who will make a way for you to get what you want?
Three skeptics come to mind who encountered this question:
Frank Morrison was a journalist determined to disprove the resurrection. He read the Gospels thinking it was rubbish, intending to write a book dismantling the account. But as he investigated the historical evidence, something unexpected happened. He ended up writing Who Moved the Stone?—a book arguing for the resurrection. He became a follower of Christ for the rest of his life.
Lew Wallace was a military general and lawyer who openly called himself an atheist. He decided to examine Christianity and expose it. But as he investigated the life of Jesus, he found himself unable to dismiss what he discovered. He wrote a different book than planned: Ben-Hur, one of the greatest Christian novels ever written, proving the life of Christ.
Gilbert West was an English thinker, deeply skeptical of Christianity. He set out to explain away the resurrection through rigorous historical study. Instead, he wrote Observations on the History and the Evidence of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ—arguing for it, not against it.
Three different men. Three different backgrounds. All skeptical. All arrived at the same place: Jesus is king.
When we truly accept that Jesus is king, several things happen:
We hear of wars and rumors of wars, but our king told us these things would happen. When we read of Christian leaders falling away, we are concerned—but not rocked—because our king said, "I will build my church and the gates of hell will not stand against it."
So much of our worship centers on a question: "Jesus, what can you do for me?" But when Jesus is king, the question flips: "What can I do for you?"
In an age where people are dying through lack of purpose, suddenly we find: "I have a purpose. It's to serve my king." It's not about him aligning to my will; it's about me aligning to his will. It's not about the world serving me; it's about me serving him.
Jesus doesn't settle for surface-level worship. He doesn't want once-a-year, once-a-Sunday palm-branch waving. He wants transformation that goes deep.
Notice what happens when Jesus enters the temple. He immediately clears out the junk—the money changers, the tables, the corruption. Why? Because God had designed the temple's outer court as a place for Gentiles—those far from God—to look in and see what God is like.
But over centuries, that space had filled with religious paraphernalia that pushed people away instead of welcoming them.
The temple once was a building. Now it's us. We are the temple of God.
So when we claim Jesus is king, it cannot be merely surface-level. It must change everything:
Wherever we turn up, we reflect the king. Our lives either draw people toward Jesus or push them away.
I remember working in a manufacturing company's senior leadership. A new CEO joined our team. During an executive meeting he didn't attend, I called to check on him. He was 45 minutes away in Kettering and asked me to lie for him—to tell the team he had an emergency meeting.
In that moment, the Holy Spirit moved me to say: "If I can lie for you, I can lie to you. And I'll never do that."
He was furious. "You're calling me a liar?"
"Yes."
But that moment did two things. First, it reminded me: I have a greater king than you. That gives immense security. Second, it changed our relationship. Even in his anger, he realized I was telling the truth. He confided in me things he told no one else, asked me questions he asked no one senior to me—because he knew I would never lie.
That's what it looks like to follow the servant king.
The temple's outer court didn't fill with junk overnight. It happened little by little. A small section here. A small section there. "Oh, that won't be noticed. There's still plenty of space." This went on for years, maybe decades, until the entire court was full.
It's the same with us. Stuff creeps in. Compromises. Small deviations. Gradually, our temples fill with things that shouldn't be there.
Right now, God is clearing his church out. He's preparing us for revival. Don't be surprised if leaders fall. Don't be surprised if things get cleared away. Why? Because God wants his church to display his glory. He wants our temples ready for him.
Jesus resists the pride of the religious leaders and draws out worship from the children. He later said: "Unless you become like a child, you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven."
Why? Because he constantly resists pride in us and constantly gives grace to humility in us.
How do we meet this king?
Later in Revelation, Jesus appears on a white horse—the king of judgment. But I tell you, you don't want to meet that king too early. You want to meet the humble king riding on a donkey. And how do you meet that king?
By humbling yourself like a child. By saying: "Jesus, help me. Jesus, I'm struggling. Jesus, I want to obey. My flesh is weak, but my spirit wants to obey you."
You meet that king in a place of humility.
Here is the greatest question we will all answer, one day and every day: Who is Jesus?
Unlike "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire," you cannot choose to walk away. You cannot see the question and say, "I'll just keep what I have and not answer." There is no option.
Every single one of us will answer this question. How we live our lives is our answer. If you decide not to think about it—that is an answer. If you decide he is not king—that is an answer. But if you decide he is king, then from that moment, everything changes.
You find purpose. You find comfort. You find strength. You align yourself with the humble king who will transform you into his image, so that people say: "Oh, the reason they're like that is because they're following the servant king."
There's a story that has inspired me. In 1732, two young men named Johann and David departed from Herrnhut in Germany, where they'd lived all their lives with their families. They'd heard of enslaved people on the island of St. Thomas who had no one preaching the gospel to them.
So these two young men in their early twenties decided to leave everything—their homes, their families—to sell themselves into slavery so they could witness to the enslaved islanders.
As they departed, they said: "May the lamb that was slain receive the reward of his suffering."
That statement became the slogan for a missionary movement that became the greatest missionary movement of that century. Thousands came to Christ through their witness. Churches still stand on that island because of their sacrifice.
That's what happens when we really believe Jesus is king. It's no longer about our will or our desire. We start to pray "Your kingdom come" with new energy. We align our lives with his kingdom with new direction and power.
If you have never made Jesus lord of your life, if you've never put him in that place as king, I'd love to pray with you. Although he is king, he doesn't force that upon us. He invites us to invite him in.
If that's you, pray with me:
Jesus, I choose today to follow you as king. I choose today to align my life with you. Forgive me for the sin I carry into this relationship. Wash me clean and make me whole. Use my life for your purpose. In Jesus' name. Amen.
As we close, ask the Holy Spirit: What is one thing you want me to do in response to this passage? Not ten things. One thing. Let him speak to your heart.
