Have you ever found yourself saying, “If I could just have this, or do that, then everything would be okay”?If we won the lottery, if I got that job, lost 15 pounds, or if we could just get through one day without…then things would be better, I could be a better person, we could get things done.
If only more people came to our church, and gave lots money….just think of all the wonderful programs and ministry we could do.
If only.
It’s a wonderful thing, sometimes, if it creates hope, or action, when we try to make the world we want come true – whether that means changing our habits, preparing and interviewing for a new job, inviting someone new to church, or making phone calls and voting for your favorite candidate.
But not always.
Sometimes it’s just an escape,
a happy fantasy that doesn’t motivate any action, the way I used to imagine being a princess (which in my seven year old mind involved no chores, lots of books and pretty dresses, and sleeping late – actually, most of that still sounds pretty attractive!)
Winning the lottery would make a lot of those things possible (not to mention a new kitchen), but I don’t generally buy a ticket.
What about you?
What’s your “if only?” Does it motivate you to change? or make you comfortable with what is, and less likely to change?
You see, today is an “if only” sort of Sunday for the church.
It’s a Sunday we call the Feast of Christ the King. A Sunday set aside to celebrate the idea that someday, preferably soon, Christ returns to rule the whole earth, obeyed by all nations and people.
There are glimpses of that perfect kingship in scripture. Our reading from Revelation today is a vision of the shock and awe of the coming of Christ, as King, descending from the clouds. The reported “last words” of David say that a good and godly king is like sunshine on a clear morning – full of hope and abundance – and that’s what we’re supposed to look for in Christ the King.
Chances are, more people would come to church, too.
If it sounds attractive, it’s supposed to.
The whole idea of “if only…” is that one or two changes would make the whole world a better place, one we’d love to live in.
That’s more or less why we celebrate Christ the King Sunday. It was created in 1925 by Pope Pius XI, in the hope that celebrating Christ’s kingship would turn the rising tide of secularism and neglect and disrespect of the church. (Worked great, hm?)
I’m not sure when the Episcopal Church picked it up, but we do like occasions to celebrate. If only more people were paying attention to God, and scripture,
if only more people were making this kind of time in their week, their lives, to follow Christ,
if only more people were making this kind of time in their week, their lives, to follow Christ,
wouldn’t the world be a better place??
I do think the world would be a better place with God more in charge, and us less so,
but that’s the trick.
God being in charge makes us less in charge. God being in charge is likely to disrupt all our comfort zones, challenge our habits, and generally upset all of our expectations and order.
And that’s the trouble with Christ the King Sunday.
Because Jesus is exactly the king that nobody is looking for.
Exactly the king to disappoint all our expectations, challenge our comfort, and disrupt our habits. Even our church habits.
It’s not just that the man dumped over all the furniture in the Temple.
It’s his absolute refusal to take charge and turn the world into the one we were hoping for.
He’s not going to provide a chicken in every pot – an even range of economic prosperity and food security. Instead he’s the kind of king who stuffs you with bread and fish when you’re not expecting it – and then vanishes. The kind of king who refuses to make bread out of stones, even though he could feed the world if he chose.
He’s the kind of king who seems to yield to the opposition – to the religious authorities who can’t get it right, the political appointees of the foreign occupation force.
He’s the kind of king who would fail miserably on a battlefield, who is useless when we want to win the war, to prove we’re better than the other guys.
Instead he’s the kind of king who gets tangled up in criminal prosecution, death, and endings – and then asks us why we gave up before resurrection.
The cross we hang over the altar at Calvary is a beautiful representation of our hope in God’s promise to us, and it’s incredibly misleading.
King Jesus is exactly the opposite of what we hope for.
And that’s a good thing.
Because God doesn’t deal in “if only…”
God deals in Truth.
Truth that comes down to the fact of our creation, that God is already in the world:
the Body of Christ, the face of humanity created in God’s image, to be good stewards, to take God’s care of one another and the world.
The reign of Christ, the kingship of God, comes down to when and how and whether we hear God’s truth in our hearts, calling us to let go of comfort in favor of service, to toss away security in favor of resurrection, to quit being right and being in charge in order to be generous and healing.
I do believe that one day Christ, God the Word, will rule the world. But I don’t believe it’s going to look like our triumphant cross; I don’t believe it’s going to involve the shock and awe and power of an arrival from the clouds.
I believe it’s going to happen from the ground up.
From the change in your heart, in mine, in others, when “if only” changes to “amen,” the ancient word that means “so be it; truth.”
Truth: If we don’t have enough before we win the lottery, we won’t have enough after, either.
Truth: It’s not the authority of the church, or frequent attendance, that Jesus teaches. If more people came, you and I, already here, would have to grow and change and reach out waaay beyond our comfort zone.
Truth: Our king is dead, and resurrection comes when we’re not looking.
Truth.
Christ the King has already come.
And it definitely wasn’t triumphant.
But it was life-changing, world-changing, and real.
So today we look back to look ahead.
We remember that generosity, healing, life abundant, and death-defying love are already here; that God rules in the ways we least expect,
and the only question is whether we’ll notice,
overturn our own expectations,
and celebrate.
Amen.
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