Proper 29c 2025; Nov. 23 Christ the King
Col. 1:11-20; Luke 23:33-43; Jack Hardaway
FAITH IS FUNNY LIKE THAT
God.
Do something. Fix things. Make it better.
Prove you are God. Prove you are real.
The ancient prayers of the faithful both in scripture and beyond often echo this demand of God to be faithful, to be good, to be God.
The demands of contemporary atheism sound much the same, a demand that I think is actually a deep kind of prayer.
Many atheists push so hard against God to disprove God’s existence that they become strangely close to God, an unseen communion, often closer to God than many believers. They push so hard against God that they are defined by that relationship with God. One of those strange ironies. Faith is funny like that.
God be God, be good, take away the pain, do something, prove you are real. A little help here, please.
We end the Christian year with these deep questions and these deep prayers.
It is how we mark time, it is how we end and begin the Christian year, with the expectation, hope and demand for ultimate justice, for judgment, for restoration and healing.
We are given a vision of God’s kingdom, of God’s reign, of God’s rule.
And the crown of that kingdom is made of thorns and blood.
The last words we hear from Luke’s Gospel is the conversation between the two criminals and Jesus on the Cross. That is how we end the year, how we mark time.
The conversation, demanding help, that the Messiah do something, that the Messiah remember those who are being forgotten and erased from this world.
And the crucified one offers comfort and hope in the final moments of despair and fear.
It is what the true King does. False kings don’t.
The answer to our prayers is the Cross.
The proof that we are given is the Cross.
It isn’t the answer I was expecting or hoping for.
We don’t get an explanation for suffering, or the logic of God’s existence.
We get the cross, the crucified one.
The one who suffers is the one who holds all things together, all things find there meaning, their purpose, their direction.
He has dominion. He is the ruler of all.
And the world thinks he is just another crucified Jew, one of the thousands the Roman Empire put to death for being disorderly.
The irony, the one who “orderest all things mightily” is executed for disorderly conduct.
The order of things is different than we think.
It is a different kind of kingdom, a different kind of King, a different kind of power that is known in weakness, un-protected-ness, vulnerability, a different kind of proof and logic.
The world is being reordered around this man.
To reject him is still to be ruled and defined by him.
Those who follow him are like him, they remember those who are being forgotten and erased, bringing comfort, kindness and healing, the right thing, elevating people over principal.
The Romans believed in principles, they were a very principled people, Jesus had to die to prove a point.
But God, God believes in people.
And God raises people up. Not principles.
The risen Lord.
All our principles and virtues are left behind, there is only God’s all consuming and all defining mercy.
God prove you are real.
God.
Do something. Fix things. Make it better.
Prove you are God. Prove you are real.
The answer that we get? All these people and all their suffering and what we will do about it.
The kingdom is made of such things.
It is ironic that the very things that call God into question are the very things that prove God’s existence and God’s character. Faith is funny like that.