Hosea 6:1–3, “Come, let us return to the LORD; for he has torn us, that he may heal us; he has struck us down, and he will bind us up. After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will raise us up, that we may live before him. Let us know; let us press on to know the LORD; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth” (ESV).
These verses capture the beautiful tension that lies at the heart of true repentance, and indeed at the heart of the Gospel: Hope amidst mourning, healing amidst brokenness, and love amidst judgement.
The passage begins in a place of brokenness. God has torn Israel and struck them down. This follows closely from the preceding passage, where God said, “For I will be like a lion to Ephraim, and like a young lion to the house of Judah. I, even I, will tear and go away; I will carry off, and no one shall rescue” (Hosea 5:14). As the chapter begins, Israel now sits amidst the ashes of their sin, having borne the severity of God’s punishment. Based on the historical accounts of 1 and 2 Kings, which recount the wickedness of the northern kingdom in great detail, we know they had more than earned God’s judgement.
This passage should have marked God’s rejection of them. Indeed, by the resurrection metaphors of v. 2, Israel currently lay dead. There could have been no doubt in their minds how severely they had grieved God. After such a demonstration of His wrath, surely their relationship had broken beyond repair. How could they ever stand before God again in the shame and disgrace of their sins? How could they dare face the One they had hurt so deeply?
How counterintuitive, then, are the words that open this passage? “Come, let us return to the LORD.” Such a call should make no sense. How could the very God they had wounded now call them back? Why would He plead with them to return? How could He be so ready to forgive them? And yet, this is precisely what Hosea writes. “For he has torn us, that he may heal us; he has struck us down, and he will bind us up.” God had not punished them to reject them, but rather, to call them back. Even now, after all they had done, His love for them had not failed. A passage that should have ended in a place of hopelessness is instead pierced by God’s light. In the midst of their brokenness, God offered healing. In the midst of His judgement, He offered forgiveness.
The wrath of God against sin is a serious matter, and this passage does not treat it lightly. But, as severely as God punishes sin, He loves and forgives exceedingly more abundantly. Israel had committed great evils, and God rightly hated their sin. And yet, underneath the mud that now stained them, He still saw His beloved children—so lost, so broken, and so in need of salvation. They had hurt Him, but they also needed Him. And so He begged them to return.
Verse 2, “After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will raise us up, that we may live before him.” Two and three days are not meant literally; Hosea uses poetic language to show that God will not delay in showing mercy. After only a short time, they would see restoration from their devastation. God was slow to anger, but He would be quick to forgive. And for what purpose would He revive them? “That we may live before him.” God did not wish to keep them at arm’s length after they sinned; He wished for them to dwell in His presence. It should scarcely be possible that a holy God would welcome back into His arms children so stained with sin. Yet He does. He welcomes them into His arms, He washes away their dirt and mud, and He never lets them go.
Verse 3, “Let us know; let us press on to know the LORD; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth.” When His children desire to return to Him, however far they have wandered, God will find them. If they press on to know the LORD, He will come to them as the dawn, with radiant light and warmth, and as the spring rains, bringing revitalization and life.
These opening verses are a deeply heartfelt and moving plea. The tragedy, however, is that they fell on deaf ears. As we know, the northern kingdom never returned to God. He desired so deeply to forgive them, but they refused, and that broke His heart. Verse 4, “What shall I do with you, O Ephraim? What shall I do with you, O Judah? Your love is like a morning cloud, like the dew that goes early away.”
You can hear the pain in God’s words. “What shall I do with you?” As long as they refused to return, His hands were tied. He couldn’t force them to accept His forgiveness. He says their love is like a morning cloud and like the dew that goes early away. They would pass brief seasons giving lip service to Him, but even that love would quickly dissipate. God so deeply desired the love of His people, yet all He got were a few halfhearted sacrifices and the occasional empty ritual. It was all external.
So, He tried everything He could to reach them. Verse 5, “Therefore I have hewn them by the prophets; I have slain them by the words of my mouth, and my judgment goes forth as the light.” God sent prophet after prophet to rebuke them, proclaiming harsh judgements. He hewed them in pieces with His words; He tore them and struck them down. He wanted nothing more than to shower His children with blessings, but they were so bent on sinning that He had no choice but to wound them in the hope that it might jolt them awake so they could return to Him.
Finally, v. 6, “For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.” God did not want empty external practices; He wanted their hearts. Rather than burnt offerings, He wanted them to know Him. Rather than sacrifices, He wanted their steadfast love. It was all about the heart. It was the one thing God desired, and it was the one thing He never received from His people.
The passage is at once touching and heartbreaking. Israel never did return to God, but our story does not need to end in the same way. “Come, let us return to the LORD.” God extends this same call to us in the midst of our sins. Among the ashes of our failures and messes, He beckons us to return home. He has torn us, but He will heal us. He punishes severely, but He forgives abundantly.
So often, our own love for God is like dew that quickly evaporates. It is easy to fall into a religion of merely externals, while inside, our love grows cold. The very God who has given us all things falls to the bottom of our list of priorities. But God desires our heart, not our empty rituals. He is seeking love, worship, and obedience. He desires it so deeply that, as in v. 5, He will often stop short of nothing to shake us out of our spiritual apathy. At times, His rebuke may cut us deeply in order to pierce our hardened hearts. That will hurt.
But, even after He has torn us, He pleads with us to return. No matter how deeply you have grieved God, or however fleeting your love has been, He has not forsaken you. He is waiting to revive you so that you may live in His presence once more. Therefore, renew your love for Him and seek Him. When you run back to your Father—broken and messy, stained by sins and weaknesses—He will never recoil. Rather, He will run out to meet you, and hold you there in His arms. “Let us know; let us press on to know the LORD; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth.”
Milton ON
2 Chronicles 25
In 2 Chronicles 25:5–13, King Amaziah of Judah found himself facing a dilemma. With a war against Edom looming on the horizon, he had mustered all his fighting forces. However, only 300,000 soldiers answered his call—a mere fraction of what the armies of Judah had once boasted (2 Chronicles 17:14–18). He knew an army of this size could not stand against Edom. So, desperate for reinforcements, Amaziah went to the northern kingdom of Israel and hired 100,000 of their soldiers as mercenaries.
Those mercenaries, however, were not cheap; Amaziah paid for them 100 talents of silver. For reference, Solomon, the wealthiest king of Israel ever, had an annual income of 666 talents of gold (2 Chronicles 9:13). Though silver was of course less valuable than gold, that provides a rough benchmark for the cost. Amaziah had put a lot into this trade. Not to mention, relations between Israel and Judah were rocky at best, so it was nothing short of a miracle they had been able to agree to this cooperation at all. This was a massive trade between nations, and Amaziah was really committed now.
However, a prophet soon brought troubling news. “O king, do not let the army of Israel go with you, for the LORD is not with Israel” (2 Chronicles 25:7 ESV). This was a really difficult request. If Amaziah sent those soldiers home, he would not be getting his silver back. This was probably the largest financial investment of his life, and God was asking him to throw it away. If Amaziah wanted to obey God, he would now lose almost everything.
On the one hand, this was a test of Amaziah’s faith. 300,000 soldiers was not nearly enough to defeat Edom, but with God, it would be more than enough. The prophet went on to say, “For God has power to help or to cast down” (v. 8). If they trusted God, they would win; if they did not, they would lose. However, this dilemma was about more than just faith. Amaziah asked the prophet, “But what shall we do about the hundred talents that I have given to the army of Israel?” (v. 9). God was asking Amaziah to throw away 100 talents of silver. What’s more, those Israelite soldiers would be furious for being promised a job, then sent home empty. A significant portion of their wages came from the plunder after a battle, so, if they weren’t allowed to fight, they were being robbed of half their paycheck. Amaziah knew what 100,000 angry soldiers could do.
His hesitation was very understandable. The cost of following God was now astronomical. But the prophet’s message did not end there. “The man of God answered, ‘The LORD is able to give you much more than this’” (v. 9). In essence, the prophet’s message was this: “One hundred talents of silver? That’s nothing. You are serving the Almighty God, the Lord of heaven and earth!. You don’t think He can give you so much more than that?” Whatever Amaziah had to leave behind to follow God, it was worth it. Why? Because he would receive so much more—not only in terms of money or military success, but because being in a relationship with the living God was worth so much more than any price he could pay.
Faced with that challenge, Amaziah stepped out in faith. “Then Amaziah discharged the army that had come to him from Ephraim to go home again. And they became very angry with Judah and returned home in fierce anger” (v. 10). Just like that, 100 talents of silver were gone forever, and, as expected, the soldiers were not happy with this. However, Amaziah “took courage and led out his people and went to the Valley of Salt,” where God gave him the victory over the Edomite army (v. 11).
Amaziah went all in for God. He left behind the alliance with Israel and 100 talents of silver. But he found God. He stepped out in faith, and God was waiting to catch him. Amaziah put his relationship with God before money, victory, and alliances—because that relationship was worth any price that could be paid. “The LORD is able to give you much more than this” (v. 9). Amaziah believed that promise, and he paid a great price to follow God, but that price was more than worth it.
Notice how the battle narrative ends. Verse 13, “But the men of the army whom Amaziah sent back, not letting them go with him to battle, raided the cities of Judah, from Samaria to Beth-horon, and struck down 3,000 people in them and took much spoil.” The passage doesn’t end on a happy note. Amaziah knew the men of Israel would be angry at being sent back… and they were. They raided his towns, killed three thousand innocent people, and took plunder. Amaziah obeyed God, and there was a cost. God didn’t tell him there would be a cost, but then shelter him from it. Amaziah genuinely faced the consequences of following God. He did suffer for making the right decision. However, what he received in exchange—a relationship with the living God—was infinitely more valuable.
There will be a cost for anyone who wants to follow God. Luke 14:26–33, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple … So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.”
We are called to leave much more behind than Amaziah. We must bear our cross daily. We must be willing to lose our closest relationships, and even our own life. We must forsake all we have. The cost of following Jesus is everything. It’s not that we will lose everything, but that we must be willing to lose everything. When we follow Christ, He becomes our entire life; everything else is a distant second.
Amaziah was asked to give up one hundred talents of silver. We don’t know what will be asked of us, but God wants us to be prepared for that day. If He takes away our money, our job, and our house, will we still follow Him? What if He takes away our relationships, our friends, and family? What if He takes away our health? Any of those could be the cost God asks of us. Will we still follow Him? Of course, for all our sake, I pray He doesn’t ask that of us. But if He does, what will be our choice? What are we willing to sacrifice to obtain the Gospel?
The prophet’s words are even more true for us. “The LORD is able to give you much more than this.” We leave everything, but in the Gospel, we find even more. Paul says in Philippians 3:8, “Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ.” Paul was willing to pay any price, because he knew the value of what he was receiving in exchange. Everything in the world—all the riches, the glory, the power, the status, the pleasure—they were nothing, not even the slightest speck, compared to knowing Jesus.
We must leave everything behind for the Gospel, but we are given so much more. Jesus says that, “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field” (Matthew 13:44). The Gospel is a treasure so great, so surpassing all value, that without hesitation the man sold all he had—and he did it with joy. This is the very treasure that each of us have been given. Whatever sacrifices we are called to make, we know it is worth it without question.
Finally, we must remember how the passage ends. Amaziah was told that a price would have to be paid…and it was. It was not merely a thought experiment for him, and it will not be so for us either. We don’t know what it will be, but there will be a cost for each of us. But whenever we are asked to give something up for the Gospel, God says to us, “I am able to give you much more than that.” We leave everything, but we find more than everything. We find Jesus.
Exodus 25–31 records the instructions God gave Moses for the construction and design of the Tabernacle. These chapters often get skipped or skimmed in yearly reading plans—I know, I’ve been there too. Parts of it can feel repetitive or difficult to follow, and it’s not always clear how it applies to our lives today. This year, for my Genesis–Exodus class at Great Lakes Bible College, I had the opportunity to write a paper on Exodus 26, which gives the design for the tent proper. The more I’ve studied this passage, the more I’ve come to understand why it is part of God’s Word, and that it is just as applicable today.
We’ll walk through the passage here in broad detail, but I would highly encourage you to read it yourself. In Exodus 26:15–30, we read about the tall wooden boards that made up the solid, skeletal structure of the Tabernacle. Each board was fashioned of rich acacia wood and was overlaid with gold. Each board was held in place by two bases of pure silver, and joined together by gold-covered acacia poles inserted through rings of pure gold. These boards formed the walls of the Tabernacle, and supported everything else above it.
Over top of this skeletal structure, a series of coverings were laid, described in verses 1–14. The first covering was made of blue, purple and scarlet yarns and linens—very precious and rare colours. Skillfully woven into the fabric were depictions of cherubim, and the fabrics were all held together by golden clasps. This first covering was placed directly over the wooden frames, and was the most ornate and lavish because it was closest to the presence of God. Over top of that first layer were more functional coverings made of goat skins and ram skins, which were needed to protect the tent from outside weather conditions.
In verses 31–37, the Israelites were commanded to make a curtain for the outside of the tent, which functioned as the front door of the Tabernacle. It was to be made of the same blue, purple, and scarlet yarns, and was held up by five pillars of acacia overlaid with gold on bases of bronze. Finally, there was the veil, which separated the Holy Place from the Holy of Holies, where the Ark of the Covenant was kept and where God’s presence dwelt. This veil was designed in the same fashion as the innermost covering, because it too was closest to the presence of God. It had cherubim woven into the blue, purple, and scarlet fabric, and was hung on four gold-covered pillars on bases of silver. This veil blocked off the Holy of Holies, which would have been in complete darkness, shielded from the outside world.
Even in such broad strokes, the point of the passage remains clear: the Tabernacle was very rich and lavish, using expensive and rare materials and intricate designs; great care and detail was put into its construction, with everything, from large to small, being specified by God. What makes the Tabernacle so important, though? Why was there so much detail put into its design? Most importantly, why is it included here in God’s Word?
The purpose of the Tabernacle was God’s presence. It was how God was to dwell among His people. God had chosen Israel to be His special possession, and as part of their covenant, Israel would have God’s perfect, holy presence living in their midst—a prospect that is both amazing and terrifying. God wasn’t watching from afar; He was physically among them. His dwelling place was visible to their very eyes.
How can a holy and perfect God live among people? He needs to have a holy dwelling place built for Him. If God was to dwell among His people, they needed to build a house worthy of His name, and follow all the instructions He gave them for building it. In this way, the construction and design of the Tabernacle reveals God’s holy character. As strange as it is to say, this passage isn’t about a tent. It’s about the God whose holy presence dwelt in that tent. The beauty, detail, design and richness of the Tabernacle revealed to the Israelites who God was. It reminded them of the reverence that was due Him, and the seriousness of having God dwelling among them. Its holiness and beauty was a symbol of the holiness and beauty of God.
But just as the Tabernacle showed that God was dwelling among His people, it also showed He was separate. This is seen most clearly in the veils. Only the priests could enter the Holy Place, and no one could enter the Holy of Holies, except the high priest, and only once a year. No one else would never see beyond the first curtain, and only one person would see the Ark of the Covenant and the place where God dwelt. It drove home the point. God was holy, so although He was dwelling among His people, He had to remain separate. People couldn’t freely enter His presence whenever they liked—in fact, they couldn’t enter His presence at all. They were sinners and unclean, and they could not stand before a holy God and live.
All this has changed under the new covenant. Today, God no longer dwells in a Tabernacle or a temple. Instead, He dwells in us. Through baptism and faith in Jesus Christ, God gives us His Holy Spirit, and He lives in our hearts. In 1 Corinthians 6:19, Paul writes, “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you?” Today, we are the Tabernacle. We are the temple where God lives.
But how can the holy God, who had to be separated from His people by the veil, dwell in us? The people of Israel were sinners, and so are we. If they couldn’t stand in God’s presence and live, how can God’s holy presence live in us, who are unholy? The answer is that He is making us holy. Through the blood of Jesus, we are no longer sinful and unclean. He is making us clean and pure, and is transforming us into His image. Through the blood of Jesus, the veil has been torn open, the separation between God and man has been removed forever, and the presence of God has been unleashed on the world.
In Exodus, God had the Israelites build Him a holy dwelling place. Now, He is building His dwelling place. He is shaping us, moulding us, and transforming us to be His holy temple. The Tabernacle was ornate and beautiful. Its designs were intricate, its materials costly and expensive. If that is how much beauty and detail God put into the Tabernacle, which was just a physical tent, how much more beauty and detail will he put into us, whom He has chosen as His sons and daughters? How much more beautiful will our souls be when we have been conformed to the image of Christ?
It would have been a privilege to live in ancient Israel, and to see the Tabernacle, a physical witness of God’s presence among His people. But brothers and sisters, ours is an even greater privilege, to have God’s presence dwelling in our hearts, to be able to enter into the Holy of Holies, passing through the veil that has been torn and to stand before our God with full confidence.
Milton, ON
God often uses negative situations to bring about great good. This is perhaps best seen in Jesus’ crucifixion, where the death of the Son of God brought salvation for all people. But it is also seen in the events leading up to Jesus’ death. John 18:28–19:22 records Jesus’ trial before Pilate and the inscription Pilate placed above the cross. This story is filled with schemes, lies, and compromises, all resulting in Jesus being condemned to death. But out of this very negative situation, God was able to bring about great good. Because the final result of Jesus’ trial was not a victory for the Romans or the Jews. Instead, it was precisely what they had tried to prevent by killing Him: a final, universal declaration that Jesus is King.
During the trial scene, there are three principal characters or groups involved: Jesus, Pilate, and the Jews. Each has a throughline1 during the trial as they react to events and take action, and each has something to teach us. There is much we could say about the Jews and their throughline, how over the course of the trial their zeal to ‘serve God’ by having Jesus killed leads them to reject God as their king and abandon all their moral principles. Their final words in the trial are, “We have no king but Caesar,” (19:15). We watch their descent step-by-step as they do or say anything they can to get Jesus killed. But for the sake of brevity, we’ll focus our time on Pilate and Jesus, which is where the heart of the action lies.
First, we come to Pilate, and his throughline of compromise. During this trial, there is a spiritual war being waged between Jesus and the world. Through his whole ministry, Jesus has been doing the will of the Father and proclaiming the truth—the truth about who He really is, and the truth about his Kingship. The world has been fighting against Jesus and trying to silence that claim. Now, Pilate finds himself caught in the middle of this spiritual battle, needing to make a decision and choose a side.
One thing we need to know about Pilate was that at the time, his career was in a very precarious position. Sejanus, his patron in Rome who had appointed him to the position of Governor, had just been executed by the Roman Emperor. This left Pilate vulnerable, lacking friends in high places to protect him. Also, the Roman Emperor’s policies had recently grown very pro-semitic, meaning he would favour the Jews over Pilate in a dispute. To make matters worse, Pilate already had a record of slip-ups and mistakes in dealing with the Jewish people. At the time of Jesus’ trial, Pilate would have been very insecure about his career, and this certainly influences how he acts on this occasion.
During the trial, Pilate faces a moral dilemma. On the one hand, he knows Jesus is innocent. He says twice, “I find no guilt in him” (18:38; 19:6). Once he starts talking to Jesus, it becomes clear He’s not the zealous revolutionary the Jews claim. Pilate knows the charges are false, and he wants to let Jesus go. However, given his fragile political position, he cannot afford to make the Jews angry—and freeing Jesus would make them very angry. Such a controversy would likely result in Pilate being deposed. So he faces a dilemma, needing to choose between saving his career or the life of an innocent man.
Over the course of the trial, Pilate tries to make a series of compromises, desperately seeking some middle ground where he doesn’t need to make this uncomfortable choice. The first compromise involves the tradition of releasing a prisoner. He says, “You have a custom that I should release one man for you at the Passover. So do you want me to release to you the King of the Jews?” (18:39). He offers a legally-acceptable solution that will allow Jesus to go free without punishment. However, the compromise fails, because the Jews demand the release of Barabbas instead (18:40).
Next, Pilate tries to compromise by choosing a lesser sentence. In 19:1–3, he has Jesus flogged. Pilate was probably hoping the Jews would be satisfied after this. He was hoping that once he brought Jesus out to them in such a pitiful state (19:5), they would relent. Instead, this only causes them to double down on their demands for his crucifixion (19:6).
Pilate continues to seek Jesus’ release, going back and forth between talking to the Jews and talking to Jesus, desperately seeking a way out, but finding found. Then, in John 19:12, the Jews play their final card. “If you release this man, you are not Caesar’s friend. Everyone who makes himself a king opposes Caesar.” They directly threaten Pilate’s job. They force him to make a decision, and when it’s all on the line, Pilate gives in and hands Jesus over to be crucified (19:16). He knew what was right, but had delayed too long in doing it, by trying to compromise. So, when the moment arrived, when the spiritual war came to its climax, Pilate found himself standing on the wrong side.
Then, we come to Jesus, and His throughline of kingship. This is where we really see God taking a negative situation and bringing about great good through a series of ironic reversals. Although neither Pilate nor the Jews believe Jesus is a King, His kingship continually takes centre stage throughout the trial: Jesus is called the King of the Jews almost every time He’s mentioned, we see royal imagery applied to Him even when He is flogged, and the final result of the trial is a written declaration of His kingship that was read by all who came to Jerusalem. Entirely contrary to the wills of everyone present—but in accordance with the will of God—Jesus’ eternal kingship was proclaimed for all to see.
When Pilate first speaks to Jesus in 18:33, he asks Him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” The theme takes root at the very start of the trial, and remains at the forefront throughout. Pilate mentions this charge because the Jews had refused to state their charge against Jesus (18:30), and this is Pilate’s best guess. He suspects that Jesus is trying to set Himself up as an earthly king to overthrow Caesar.
Pilate is both right and wrong. Jesus is a King—but not the kind Pilate is expecting. Jesus says in v. 36, “My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would have been fighting, that I might not be delivered over to the Jews. But my kingdom is not from the world.” Jesus’ kingdom is from above; it is a spiritual kingdom. Earthly kingdoms are established and maintained through force, but Jesus’ disciples are not fighting for Him, because His kingdom is of a different nature entirely. Jesus is the King of the Jews, but He’s not leading a rebellion against Rome. He is the spiritual King, the Messiah, the Saviour. He delivers them, not from political rulers, but from their sins. Rather than trying to defend Himself against the Jews’ charges, Jesus proclaims to Pilate the nature of His kingship.
Although Pilate dismisses Jesus’ attempts to reach him (v. 38), Jesus’ kingship remains central for the rest of the trial. From there onward, almost every time Pilate or his soldiers refer to Jesus, they call Him, “the King of the Jews” (18:39; 19:3, 14, 15, 19). Pilate doesn’t do this because he believes it to be true—but God’s will is working through this situation. Pilate does it largely to annoy the Jews, because they detest having Him called their king. It’s the principle reason they want Him crucified, so they can silence forever His blasphemous claims to be the Messiah.
Likewise, even when Pilate has Jesus beaten, the imagery of kingship remains central. John records, “The soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on his head and arrayed him in a purple robe. They came up to him, saying, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’” (John 19:2–3).
But the theme of kingship finds its ultimate fulfillment directly after the trial. Jesus carries His cross to Golgotha, where He is crucified with a criminal on either side. Pilate places a final inscription over Jesus’ cross that reads, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews” (19:19). The high priests had pressured Pilate into crucifying Jesus against his own will. Although he had conceded to their demands, he had no desire to please them. Through this inscription, Pilate takes one final opportunity to antagonize the Jews. However, by the will of God, this simple inscription accomplishes so much more than that. This took place during the Passover, so all the Jews had to come to Jerusalem. And as they did, they saw Jesus and the inscription over His cross. In 19:20, John records that many Jews saw this inscription, for it was written in Greek, the lingua franca of the day; Aramaic, the common language of the Jews; and Latin, the official language of the Roman Empire. This final proclamation of Jesus’ kingship is seen and read by all who pass by. Being written in these three languages, this proclamation—like Jesus’ kingship—is universal. The chief priests had worked tirelessly to silence Jesus and deny His kingship. They had thought that by killing Him, they could finally stifle these claims. And yet, in John’s perfect irony, it was that very death that provided the means and occasion for this most universal proclamation of all.
The chief priests do not approve of this inscription, and they tell Pilate to write instead that Jesus claimed to be the King of the Jews (v. 21). But with God’s will working through the situation, the inscription stands. Pilate answers, “What I have written I have written” (v. 22). This declaration of Jesus’ kingship—not the decision to crucify Jesus—is the result of all the compromising, scheming and plotting. Jesus truly is the king of the Jews, the king of the whole world, and the king of our lives. By the end of the trial, though neither Pilate nor the Jews believed it, this eternal truth stood plainly written for all to see.
What does this mean for our lives today? The first application is that we cannot remain neutral in the spiritual battle that wages around us. Like Pilate, everyone is on one side or the other, whether they realize it or not. When we try to remain neutral by making compromises with the world, we only deceive ourselves. If we choose to follow God, then we must serve Him with all our hearts.
Compromises with the world can take many forms. They can be internal, when we choose to adopt the world’s values, as Pilate did when he valued his career above justice. They can also be external, when we choose not to stand up for the truth, or when we live by the morals of the world so as to fit in. It is reflected in how we spend our time and money, and in what we think about. We face much opposition from the world today, and neutrality can appear an enticing solution. But as Pilate discovered, we cannot remain neutral about Jesus. We must choose a side and commit to it fully. Everyone will be forced to make this decision eventually, but the more time we spend compromising, the more likely it is that we, like Pilate, will come down on the wrong side.
Second, as seen through this whole passage, Jesus is king. He is the King of the Jews, the Messiah, who has saved His people. He is the King of the world, seen in the universal nature of Pilate’s proclamation. And He is the King of our lives, ruling over everything we say and do. Jesus is the King, and the King must reign. Do our lives reflect His kingship? Is Jesus ruling in our hearts?
One day, Jesus will reign over all, whether they have accepted Him or not. But today, we have the choice of willingly and joyfully accepting His kingship for our lives. Jesus’ kingship is not a heavy burden, like the sort of kingship that belongs to the world, because Jesus’ kingdom is not of this world. But it does require us to give everything we have. If Jesus is to be King in our lives, then He must be King over all, because there can be no compromise. We must surrender every part of our lives to His lordship, and live each day to serve Him. Therefore, let us seek to make our every thought, word and action devoted to Him. Let us glorify Him in all that we do.
All praise and honour to our eternal King!
Omagh, ON
1 A Throughline: a common or consistent element or theme shared by items in a series or by parts of a whole. Merriam Dictionary
