Sun Kwak, “The King Is Here”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y9GsHk49Ckw

TEXT: Mark 11:1-11

[1] Now when they drew near to Jerusalem, to Bethphage and Bethany, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two of his disciples [2] and said to them, “Go into the village in front of you, and immediately as you enter it you will find a colt tied, on which no one has ever sat. Untie it and bring it. [3] If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ say, ‘The Lord has need of it and will send it back here immediately.’” [4] And they went away and found a colt tied at a door outside in the street, and they untied it. [5] And some of those standing there said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” [6] And they told them what Jesus had said, and they let them go. [7] And they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it, and he sat on it. [8] And many spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut from the fields. [9] And those who went before and those who followed were shouting, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! [10] Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David! Hosanna in the highest!”

[11] And he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple. And when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.

SERMON: “The King Is Here”

In The Lord of the Rings, there’s this scene toward the end of the book at the battle of Pelennor. And there, the author J. R. R. Tolkien depicts the arrival of the king onto the battle scene. And what he describes is that upon Aragorn’s entrance, there is this simultaneous reaction of those for and those against the king. With Aragorn riding into the battle, Tolkien narrates that the tide of fate had turned. This is the power of the king’s entrance. Joy was filling the city of the king, the kingdom of Gondor, with music and the ringing of bells. But Mordor, filled with the enemies of the king — its inhabitants had, in Tolkien’s words, a black dread fall upon them, because there was a certain knowledge that their doom was at hand. This is the power of the king’s entrance into battle. And of course, Tolkien, who is a carefuland meticulous writer, takes poetically his understanding of what happens in the spiritual realms. What we often don’t see but is more real than anything we can touch or feel. And our passage today marks the beginning of the end of Jesus’ ministry. It’s the first day of what we refer to as Holy Week, a day we recall as Palm Sunday. And like Aragorn rides into battle, here is Jesus who rides into Jerusalem. And around him are sounds of praise and adulation — utterances of the Son of David and the Messiah. And at the same time, there are cries of anguish — Hosanna, which we’ll get back to, which means, “Save us now.” Not so much a praise but a cry of desperation and plea for help. And I like Tolkien’s picture here of Aragorn’s entrance. Because his portrayal of the spiritual realms is captured so well with how there is this simultaneous joy of Gondor and the dread of Mordor.

Because something Tim Keller notes about this event is that Jerusalem wasn’t a large city, and yet, there were Jews from all over who were congregating here. The city, at this moment, was densely populated with people who were likely congregating in the same places at the same time. And thus, it’s likely that many of the voices who were crying out Hosanna and calling upon Jesus as the Son of David. Many of these voices are likely the same ones who would call for his crucifixion a mere five days later when Pontius Pilate would present Jesus and Barabbas to the crowds. And so, you think about the fickle-minded and frivolous hearts of these who are gathered. They have no anchor. And it was Jesus’ aim to provide the anchor for those who would drift to and fro. For here, he establishes himself as king. And not just king but the king come to do battle. Here, he was riding not on a stallion, not on a chariot. But he’s riding humbly on a donkey. Not wielding a sword but rather, to take the sword upon himself. He had come to set up his kingdom that we’ve referred to as his upside down kingdom. Something that Don Carson notes is that Jesus is riding on a young colt that’s not his own. And he’s taking this young animal where there are people and a lot of noise. Even this young colt, that he’s never seen before, that he’s having to untie. He has consummate authority and mastery over this animal. He’s in full control of the situation. And as upside down as his kingdom was and is, there was no mistaking through these details that Jesus isn’t falling victim to the plans of men. But rather, this was scripted from the very beginning, and he was the one who penned it. And something that Mark does is add details that ensure that we know that Jesus is deliberately declaring himself king. Sure, there are the cries from the crowd. But the way that Jesus enters into Jerusalem makes it clear — he’s come to announce himself as the king.

And we won’t spell out every detail here. But he’s in full control not only as the protagonist of the story, but as the author. You see, this story had been foretold. There’s this allusion to Zechariah 9, where the coming King of Zion comes riding in on a donkey, which we read of here. And then, you fast forward to the very end of the book of Zechariah. And in Zechariah 14, there’s the mentioning of the Mount of Olives, which is where Jesus would retreat to and leave from to go to Jerusalem every morning. And there, the end of the chapter tells us — And there shall no longer be a trader in the house of the LORD of hosts on that day. And trader being understood as how we read about the moneychangers, who are referred to in this very next passage. Because the way that Zechariah closes his prophecy — The Lord will go out and fight on a day of battle. That the Lord will be king over all the earth. All of these things are lining up to where we see Jesus coming to do battle for his people. And where is he deeming his battlefield? Ultimately, the cross. But where is he heading to now? The Temple. And he’s going there in order to fight for, not just our salvation but the reorienting of our worship. It was the case then, and it’s the case now. That we live in a world of competing rules in the terrain of our hearts. And though viciously fought over, there is unmistakably one who claims that space, as the one who is to truly fit to occupy it. It’s the countercultural king who gives up his life, in order that his sinful people might dwell with him.

I remember this missionary from a Missions Conference from a church I attended in college. And I don’t know how much of this was accurate or if it was exaggeration. But he was a missionary who ministered in Somalia. And he’d been there for over ten years, so obviously, whatever he was doing worked out. But he shared about how he went over without any monetary support, with any real plans. He just went there with a spoon. Just a spoon and the gospel message to share with neighbors. You look at Jesus’ ministry, and everything he used was borrowed. It’s as if he had nothing to his name, when it came to his possessions. The boat he rides on the sea is a borrowed boat. The home he stays in, what he calls his home base is Simon Peter’s home. The room where he administers the Last Supperwith his disciples is a borrowed room. The tomb he’s to be buried in is a borrowed tomb. And this coltthat he’s riding on is a borrowed colt. You know, Jesus says — Foxes have holes, and birds have nests, but the Son of Man does not have a place to lay his head. And there’s this homelessness to Jesus’ ministry, you might say. But it’s a restlessness, because he’s always known why he’d come to this earth. He didn’t come in order to find a home, in order to retire in a comfortable place. He always knew that his mission was to come to be displaced. And this was all always according to plan. According to the authorship of the playwright who wrote himself into the plot to save his sorry people.

And you could say that the story slows to a crawl here. Scholars say that Jesus lived something between 33 to 36 years. And the Gospels largely focus on the life and ministry of Jesus. But all of the Gospels — Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John — devote somewhere between a quarter to a third of each Gospel account to this final week of Jesus’ life. This is the main point of why Jesus came as king into this world, as we unpack Mark’s thesis statement — that the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many. And right in between that statement and our passage was the passage we looked at last week, which is Jesus’ last recorded incident of healing in Mark’s Gospel with Bartimaeus. And what this blind man professed was the truest statement — not just that Jesus was the Son of David but that he was one who he needed mercy from. And that language of Son of David carries over into our passage today. Because here was the king who went into the deep valleys and shadows of that path we noted as the Passive Blood, the place of danger filled with robbers and bandits. For here was the king who would not only accept the poor but would come to the poor. Here was a king who was not to trample over the impoverished but would come to lift up the downtrodden, who was, as we read in Isaiah 61, would open the eyes of the blind, open the ears of the deaf, open the mouths of the mute, and shatter the shackles of the imprisoned. Here was the one where the likes of Bartimaeus might say — That’s my king.

And so, here comes Jesus, and he sees palm branches being waved and hears the cries of the Son of David and Hosanna, which we mentioned means not so much a praise or adulation but rather literally translated as Save us now. This was a cry and plea of desperation, from a people who recognized their king had come for them. And as Psalm 118, which was a Messianic Psalm, was recited amongst the crowd, here was Jesus committing to being the king they need. One who was different, one who was to challenge the current order, one whose kingdom was, once again, upside down. Today, when you see celebrities who come out onto the red carpet, the big deal is usually what they wear. Whether it’s some dress or some colorful scheme of a suit. Because there’s some element of surprise there. But do you know what’s never talked about, because it’s assumed? It’s their ride. Every celebrity is assumed to ride in the backseat of a limousine. Because that’s what you do when you stroll onto the red carpet. There were, once again, customary ways for kings to come into towns, who were set to engage in battle. They would come riding some form of a warhorse or in some chariot. That was expected. But when you had Jesus coming in on a donkey, this was different. And it was to signal something different and unexpected. Leslie Newbiggin notes that Jesus coming on a donkey was to signify not just way he came to battle but the way he would reign. That his ride, so to speak, would direct us to his throne. That his reign would come not from a bedazzled and jeweled throne of glory. But rather, it would come from a splintered tree known as the cross, decorated by all of our sins and infractions. Where above his crown of thorns was engraved King of the Jews — king of the people who had just rejected him as their king.

But as we’ve noted again and again, this was not unexpected for Jesus, though it might have been to the crowds. Because he enters into the plot of a story that he’s seen through, that he’s written, that he’s now in the darkest chapter of. And you note that title King of the Jews. A title that would hang over his head as he would breathe his last. Who was the very first king of the Jews? It was Saul, back in 1 Samuel 9. Here was the king who was anointed, because the people were lifting their complaints, their pleas, their cries of desperation to Samuel, because they wanted a king to rule over them. But not just any king — he had to be a king like all the nations. And this Saul, unlike Jesus, was head and shouldersabove everyone else — really distinguishing himself from the lesser and the lower in society. And his anointing was also in relation to an event surrounding a donkey. If you recall from 1 Samuel 9, unlike Jesus, Saul didn’t know where the donkey was. But he had to find it to ride to the place where he was to be crowned king. But perhaps, the greatest distinction with Saul, along with every other ruler and king in Israel and in Judah, was that they could never truly break the formula for the kings like all the nations. As we read from 1 Samuel 8, These will be the ways of the king who will reign over you — that he will take your sons and he will take your daughters and he will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive orchards and he he will take the tenth of your grain and he will take your male servants and female servants and the best of your young men and your donkeys and he will take the tenth of your flocks, and you shall be his slaves. These kings would take and take and take, because that’s what the kings of this world do — they take and take, because that’s the way of their kingdom. But what did Mark tell us of this king? He who comes riding on a donkey, who made himself accessible to the likes of Bartimaeus. That he didn’t come to make us his slaves. But rather, the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve and — to what? — to give (not take) but give his life as a ransom for many. Here was the countercultural king, the king who was unlike all the kings of this world. Here was the one who might have looked unimpressive from the outside.

But such is the way of his kingdom, where up is down, down is up, where the mountains are brought down and the valleys are lifted. Because Jesus demands a response from us this morning, which he demanded from the crowd that very day. Which kingdom will we follow? Because I think if we’re honest with ourselves, we like the kingdom of God to be a little different but not completely differentfrom the kingdoms of this world. I think, for most of us, we want to bring in some merit. It’s comfortable for us, to know that there’s something that we contribute, something that we’re rewarded for. But that’s not the way of Jesus’ kingdom, that’s not the way of his cross. Because you look at the way that this passage ends in verse 11, it’s a bit of an odd ending. Here is this king who’s described to be engaging in battle, ready for war. But where does he enter into? It’s the Temple. The was the battlefield — to fight religiosity and mere traditions. This was where he would have to fight for the hearts of his people. That it wasn’t performance or upkeep or religious facades. But Jesus’ kingdom was for the likes of Bartimaeus and those who waved these palm branches crying Hosanna — save us now. Because Jesus would go into this Temple and flip everything upside down. That his way is not about climbing upbut about the king coming down. And friends, if you are looking to meet Jesus today, it won’t be through an upward ascent. It will be by falling down, by admitting our flaws, by crying for help. And that’s where this upside down king comes to meet his people. And may this change us — that our countercultural change won’t be the prerequisite but the result of Jesus meeting us, of us belonging to his kingdom. Where in view of the king who gave and gave and doesn’t take from us, that we might live openhanded lives with how we share our resources, our time, our love, and our commitments. For like Jesus’ ministry, all we have are borrowed possession, given to us to steward. And may we view them as that, as we live in a broken world who needs to cry Hosanna to our king.