“The King of Kings”
Psalm Sunday
April 13, 2025 | Mars Hill UMC
<Why Pony ride?>
It was Palm Sunday, but 5-year-old Annie had to stay home
from church with her mom because of a sore throat. When the rest of the family
came back carrying palm branches, she asked what they were for.
Her dad said, “People waved them over Jesus’ head as He rode by on a colt.”
And Annie fussed, “Wouldn’t you know it—the one Sunday I miss, and Jesus comes
with pony rides!”
Thankfully, whether you're here in person or watching
online, none of us missed the "pony rides" today!
Actually, another 5-year-old—Hannah—recently asked me, “Mom,
why didn’t Jesus ride a fancy horse like the kings do in movies? Like a chariot
with golden wheels and lots of horses? Or maybe even a flamingo or a cheetah?”
She couldn’t understand why a king would ride… a donkey. (Well, technically, it
was a colt.)
When you think of a king, what comes to mind? King Arthur?
King David or Solomon? Maybe The Lion King? Or even Burger King?
A king sounds like someone powerful, majestic, and glorious.
But the most powerful and glorious King—Jesus—came to us not
with a crown of gold, but with humility. He didn’t ride a mighty stallion, but
a simple, young donkey.
Why? What does that mean for us today?
In both the U.S. and Korea recently, we’ve seen instability
and division. One of my pastor friends couldn’t get her visa renewed—she and
her husband had to return to Korea, leaving some of their kids behind to finish
the school year. Another pastor family with a 6-month-old baby also had to
leave. It’s heartbreaking.
Just a few days ago, there were protests in our country.
Some people are celebrating political changes; others are deeply concerned.
There is division.
And in Korea, after a 111-day investigation, the president
was impeached for invoking martial law unnecessarily. Political tensions and
divisions are growing—in our countries, and even in our churches.
In all this fear and confusion, we long for a true King.
<A Humble King>
In Jesus’ day, people lived under the heavy hand of the
Roman Empire. They were desperate for a Messiah—someone who would save them
spiritually and politically. When Jesus started healing the sick and
teaching with divine authority, they tried to crown Him King (John 6:15). But
He withdrew. His Kingdom was not of this world.
When the time came, He entered Jerusalem—riding not a war
horse or a royal chariot—but a young donkey.
Jesus came not as a conquering king, but as a humble
servant King.
In Philippians 2:6–8, Paul writes:
Though He was in very nature God,
He did not consider equality with God something to be used to His own
advantage;
Rather, He made Himself nothing,
Taking the very nature of a servant,
Being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
He humbled Himself
By becoming obedient to death—
Even death on a cross!
Jesus’ humility reminds me of Mother Teresa, who always wore
a simple white sari with blue stripes. That garment became her symbol of
poverty, obedience, and love for the poor. It was her version of Jesus’
donkey—a visible sign of humble service.
So today, we must ask ourselves: what kind of “donkey” will
we ride to follow Jesus, our humble King?
<A Peaceful King>
In Roman times, when generals returned from battle, they
would ride a white horse in a triumphant parade. Jesus’ donkey was a direct
contrast to that kind of power. He came in peace.
When people waved palm branches, they weren’t just being
festive—they were expecting a military leader who would deliver them from
Rome’s oppression. But Jesus came as the Prince of Peace.
He looked weak. He looked like He was losing. But He was
building the Kingdom of God.
There’s a historical story about King Henry VIII. After
becoming king, he quickly executed anyone who didn’t please him. He wanted to
divorce his wife, Catherine, but the Pope refused—so Henry started his own
church, the Church of England.
He merged politics and religion, and while it started for
selfish reasons, God still used it to eventually bring simpler worship and the
Bible to common people, even influencing the Puritans and their journey to
America.
What does that show us? Even through human failure, God
still builds His Kingdom.
<The Promised King>
Jesus entered Jerusalem as the promised Messiah.
Zechariah 9:9 had foretold:
“Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion!
See, your King comes to you,
Righteous and victorious,
Lowly and riding on a donkey,
On a colt, the foal of a donkey.”
And Jesus fulfilled it exactly.
The colt was significant—it had never been ridden before,
reserved for holy purposes (see Numbers 19:2, 1 Samuel 6:7). Even creation
itself obeyed Him.
During His trial, Pilate mentioned the word “King” ten
times.
He asked, “Are you the King of the Jews?”
Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not of this world.”
Pilate asked again, “So you are a king?”
Jesus said, “I came to testify to the truth.”
And Pilate asked, “What is truth?”
Even though he found no fault in Jesus, Pilate handed Him
over to be crucified. He wrote a sign above Jesus’ head: “Jesus of Nazareth,
King of the Jews”—in Hebrew, Latin, and Greek.
When people told him to change it, Pilate said, “What I have
written, I have written.”
Pilate knew the truth, but he feared people more than
God. He sensed Jesus was King—but he didn’t surrender to Him.
<You Are My King of Kings>
Jesus came as the humble, peaceful, promised King of
Kings—but many still didn’t recognize Him. Even today, people don’t know Him,
misunderstand Him, or are too influenced by worldly power to crown Him as King
of their lives.
In political chaos…
In personal pain…
In spiritual weariness…
Who is your King?
Last week, Victor posted some testimonies from our Mars Hill
church members. I want to read you a few highlights that touched my heart and
reminded me of what it means to live with Jesus as King.
Susan
One
of the hardest and most enduring challenges I have faced is my son’s ongoing
health condition. As a mother, nothing prepares you for the heartache of
watching your child face a lifetime of medical struggles. It has been a journey
filled with fear, uncertainty, and deep concern. Yet through it all, I have
clung to my faith more than ever before. I have prayed constantly—sometimes
with words, sometimes only with tears. Though I may not understand why this
path was ours, I have always known that God walks with us. That trust has been
my strength, and I believe it continues to carry us through each day. Faith has
been my foundation, the steady rock beneath me when everything else felt
uncertain.
Nina
She
made it through, by God’s mercy. Doctors never expected her to live, but she
not only lived—she soared. She became a pilot, flying 747s, and was a junior
Olympic swimmer. That’s my miracle girl. Every time I think of her, I see God’s
faithfulness.
My
favorite hymn is “I’ll Fly Away.” John loves it too. But the one that speaks to
me deeply is “Jesus Walked This Lonesome Valley.” I sometimes hum it or try to
sing it quietly to myself. That song reminds me that even when we feel alone,
we’re not. Jesus walked this road before us—He knows our pain, and He walks
with us still.
So
here I am, 91 years old, married 73 years to the same good man, and grateful
for it all. Through the good and the bad, through moves and losses, through joy
and sorrow—God has been with us. And that’s enough for me.
John
I
was 18 years old. It hit me hard—his death marked the end of my childhood in
many ways. That grief stayed with me for a long time. In that season, faith
wasn’t just a tradition—it was a lifeline.
I
leaned on those quiet times of prayer and worship to carry me through loss,
uncertainty, and the stresses of military life. It’s not always about having
the answers—it’s about knowing Who holds you.
At
94, I’ve seen a lot—wars and peace, sorrow and joy, love and loss. And through
it all, God has been good. I’m grateful for every mile, every morning, every
memory. It’s been a good flight.
Jesus came on a donkey, and John came by plane—but their
faith tells the same story: God is with us. And just like Jesus, they’ve shown
us what it looks like to be filled with grace, peace, and purpose. As we go
back into the world today, let’s follow our King of Kings—riding not in
pride, but in humility, peace, and promise. Amen.
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