Popes, Presidents, and the Kingdom of God: Why Christ Still Wears the Only Crown

—by Michael A. Graham

Introduction

“For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit” (Romans 14:17 ESV).

The story of Scripture is the story of a kingdom. From Genesis to Revelation, from the garden to the cross to the empty tomb, the Bible unfolds a narrative of kingship—of rule, rebellion, and restoration. Yet this kingdom is unlike any the world has known. It is not founded on conquest or cultural power, but on righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit (Romans 14:17).

This essay began in the slow work of sermon preparation. I had been preaching through Romans 14, especially verse 17—“The kingdom of God is righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.” That verse held more weight than I expected. Around the same time, I was reading E.R. Chamberlin’s The Sack of Rome, which describes how kingship functioned in medieval and early modern imagination. One sentence stayed with me: the king was “not simply the personification or the symbol of a people, but their whole purpose of existence.” It made me wonder how kingship has changed—and how Paul’s proclamation of the kingdom of God still challenges every vision of authority and identity.

As I prepared to preach and studied further, I began to realize how deeply this verse touches the core of Christian life. It speaks not just to doctrine, but to discipleship. It calls us to live from grace, under Christ, in the Holy Spirit. I later learned that Martyn Lloyd-Jones ended his fourteen-volume commentary on Romans at this very verse. Due to illness, he could not continue. But in the Preface, he admitted that even apart from his health, he may not have gone further. Romans 14:17, he said, revealed too much of the glory of the kingdom to rush past. That confirmed what I had begun to sense: that this verse—this gospel word of righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit—stands at the very heart of how the reign of Christ becomes real in the life of the church.

This essay is the fruit of those reflections. I didn’t plan to write it. But the more I sat with Scripture, with the history of kings and kingdoms, and with the presence of the Spirit in the life of the church, the more I sensed the need to trace the thread more fully. My hope is that others might benefit from that same path of discovery—not as a final word, but as a way into deeper joy in the reign of Christ.

We begin in Eden, where Adam and Eve were entrusted with royal stewardship under God. We follow the line through Abraham, Moses, and David, into the prophetic hope of a righteous ruler. We see its fulfillment in Christ—crucified, risen, and enthroned—and in the Spirit’s work of forming a kingdom people. And we conclude by considering how this kingdom confronts modern conceptions of power, justice, and identity—and what it means to live under the reign of Christ today.

 

I. Kingship in Eden: The Creator-King and His Image-Bearers

“Then God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion…’”

—Genesis 1:26

The language of kingship begins not with monarchy or empire, but with creation. God is the sovereign Creator-King, and He forms humanity to rule under His authority. The terms used—image, likeness, dominion—are royal. In the ancient Near East, kings were called “images” of the gods, and their statues were placed in conquered territories to represent their rule. God, however, places no statues. He places people.

Adam and Eve as Royal Stewards

Adam and Eve are not rulers in their own right. They are vice-regents—image-bearers entrusted with the task of extending God’s order, multiplying His image, and filling the earth with the glory of His name.

They are given:

• A place: Eden, the garden-temple
• A calling: to cultivate and guard
• A word: God’s command to trust and obey
• A crown: dominion over the works of God’s hands

The design is beautiful. The first humans are kings and queens under God’s authority—governing the earth in peace and communion. Creation is not their possession. It is their stewardship.

 

The Law Beneath the Rule

The structure of this kingship is not legalistic, but relational. The command to avoid the tree of the knowledge of good and evil is not a test of obedience in the abstract. It is a call to trust God’s definition of good and evil rather than define it for themselves. They are invited to live under God’s rule, which is the very essence of true kingship: to rule in dependence, not autonomy.

But this trust is broken.

 

II. The Fall: Rebellion Against the True King

“You will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

—Genesis 3:5

The serpent’s temptation was not simply to disobey. It was to dethrone—to declare independence from the Creator-King. At the core of the fall is a crisis of rule. The offer was to become like God—not in the image-bearing sense, but in the sense of autonomy, of being a law unto oneself. This was not the loss of innocence. It was the rejection of kingship under God in favor of kingship apart from Him.

 

A Counter-Kingdom is Born

When Adam and Eve take the fruit, they do more than break a command. They attempt to redefine the throne. They substitute submission for self-assertion, trust for grasping, dependency for control. The result is not freedom, but fear. They hide. They cover themselves. They blame. The world that was meant to flourish under their stewardship begins to groan under their rebellion.

In theological terms, what happens in Genesis 3 is the birth of the kingdom of self. And this kingdom will spread—into families, cities, nations, cultures, and hearts.

From Cain to Babel, from Pharaoh to Rome, human history becomes a tale of competing sovereignties—false kings ruling over broken people with a borrowed power that cannot sustain justice, cannot deliver peace, and cannot produce joy.

 

The Image Remains, the Glory Fades

After the fall, the image of God is not destroyed. Humanity remains royal in capacity—but twisted in allegiance. We still bear the imprint of dominion, of desire for order and beauty and purpose. But now we seek to rule on our own terms.

We still want righteousness, peace, and joy—but we want to define them ourselves. We want a kingdom—but we want to sit on the throne. And without the Spirit, that is exactly what we try to do.

This is why Paul says in Romans 1 that humanity “exchanged the truth about God for a lie” and began to worship and serve the creature rather than the Creator. This exchange is political as much as spiritual. It is an abdication of true kingship and the establishment of false sovereignty.

 

The Need for a New King

By the end of Genesis 3, Adam and Eve are exiled—not just from Eden, but from the full presence of the King. The way to the Tree of Life is guarded. The garden-temple is closed. Humanity is left with memory, desire, and longing—but no way back to the throne.

And yet, even in judgment, God makes a promise. The seed of the woman will crush the serpent’s head. A new ruler will come. And the true kingdom will rise again—not from the self, but from the mercy of God.

 

III. The Covenant and the Crown: God’s Promise of a King

“I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever.”

—2 Samuel 7:13

The fall introduced the kingdom of self, but it did not erase God’s purpose. Throughout redemptive history, God has been preparing not only to forgive His people, but to restore His reign—through a king, over a people, in righteousness and peace.

This restoration comes through covenant.

 

A. The Abrahamic Covenant: A People and a Seed

In Genesis 12, God calls Abraham and promises him three things: a land, a people, and a blessing that will reach all nations. But hidden within that promise is a royal thread.

“I will make you exceedingly fruitful, and I will make you into nations, and kings shall come from you.” (Gen 17:6)

This is not nostalgia for Eden. It is a forward-looking promise. Kingship will return—not through the self-exalting kingdoms of Babel, but through a covenant people formed by grace.

The king God will provide will not lead by power alone, but by promise.

 

B. The Mosaic Covenant: Law Beneath the Throne

At Sinai, God gives Israel His law. This is not just moral instruction—it is royal order. God is not merely saving a people from Egypt; He is constituting a nation under His reign. Israel is to be a kingdom of priests (Exod 19:6)—a people whose national identity is defined by their obedience to the living God.

But even here, the idea of human kingship is already in view. In Deuteronomy 17, God anticipates that Israel will ask for a king. And He gives detailed instructions:

• The king must be chosen by God.
• He must not multiply wealth, horses, or wives.
• He must write out the law and read it daily.
• He must fear the Lord and keep His commandments.
• He must never exalt himself above his brothers.

In other words, God does not oppose kingship. He opposes kings who forget who the true King is.

 

C. The People Demand a King Like the Nations

In 1 Samuel 8, Israel finally asks for a king. But their request reveals their heart:

“Now appoint for us a king to judge us like all the nations.”

God tells Samuel, “They have not rejected you, but they have rejected me from being king over them.” (1 Sam 8:7)

This is not just a political pivot. It is a spiritual crisis. Israel wants the security of a crown they can see, not the presence of a God they must trust.

God gives them Saul. He is everything they wanted—tall, strong, impressive. But Saul fears people more than God. He builds his image, not the Lord’s altar. He grasps at authority rather than submitting to it.

Saul is a king like the nations. And he fails.

 

D. The Davidic Covenant: A King After God’s Own Heart

God chooses David—not because he is strong, but because he listens. He is flawed, but he returns. He sins, but he repents. David is not a king who replaces God’s reign. He is a king who reflects it.

And to David, God makes a promise:

“Your house and your kingdom shall be made sure forever before me. Your throne shall be established forever.” (2 Sam 7:16)

This is the hinge of biblical kingship.

The promise to David is not about political power. It is about a descendant who will rule with righteousness, establish peace, and reign in joy.

The prophets begin to look for Him:

• A shoot from the stump of Jesse (Isaiah 11)
• A king who will rule in justice (Jeremiah 23)
• A servant who will suffer and rise again (Isaiah 53)

God is not abandoning kingship. He is preparing the world for the true King.

 

IV. The Arrival of the King: Jesus and the Kingdom of God

“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”

—Matthew 4:17

Jesus does not arrive in a vacuum. He enters a world full of political tension, religious longing, and messianic expectation. His people are waiting for a king. They are looking for a son of David. They are praying for justice, for national deliverance, and for the restoration of Israel’s glory. But the King they receive is not the one they expected.

 

A. The Kingdom Comes With a Person

From the first words of His public ministry, Jesus announces the kingdom of God. But unlike earthly kings, He does not ride in with armies. He heals. He teaches. He forgives. He feeds. He commands storms and demons, but also speaks in parables and walks among the poor. His authority is absolute, but His presence is humble.

Jesus does not describe the kingdom as a place. He describes it as Himself.

• “If I cast out demons by the Spirit of God, then the kingdom of God has come upon you.” (Matt 12:28)
• “The kingdom of God is in your midst.” (Luke 17:21)

The kingdom is wherever the King is. And in Jesus, the kingdom has come near.

 

B. A King Unlike the Nations

Jesus fulfills the covenant promises, but not by assuming worldly power.

• He is born in obscurity.
• He grows in wisdom.
• He lives in holiness.
• He resists every temptation to seize control.

At every point, Jesus refuses to be the kind of king the world knows:

• Satan offers Him dominion. Jesus chooses the cross.
• The people try to crown Him. Jesus withdraws.
• Pilate asks, “Are you a king?” Jesus says, “My kingdom is not of this world.”

Jesus does not come to build His kingdom by conquest. He comes to bring the reign of God through surrender, suffering, and resurrection.

 

C. The Cross is His Coronation

The cross is not a pause in Jesus’ kingship. It is the moment His kingship is revealed.

On the cross:

• He wears a crown—of thorns.
• He is lifted up—not on a throne, but on wood.
• He is declared King—not by His disciples, but by His executioners.

“This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.” (Matt 27:37)

This is not irony. This is truth in God’s language. In His weakness, Jesus defeats sin. In His silence, He speaks judgment on the kingdom of self. In His death, He opens the door to life.

The resurrection confirms it. Jesus rises not just alive, but victorious. He ascends not just as teacher or Savior, but as King of kings and Lord of lords. The kingdom of God is not an idea. It is a reign established in history and continuing now from heaven.

 

D. The Reign of Christ Is Present and Expanding

Jesus now reigns at the right hand of the Father. All authority in heaven and on earth belongs to Him. And through the Spirit, He now gathers His people into that reign.

“He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of His beloved Son.” (Col 1:13)

The kingdom has a King. His name is Jesus.

And all who trust Him are now citizens—not of a nation or a program, but of a kingdom marked by righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit.

 

V. The Kingdom in the Church: The Holy Spirit and the Reign of Christ

“The kingdom of God is righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.”

—Romans 14:17

The risen Christ now reigns, not only in heaven, but among His people. He has ascended to the right hand of the Father, and from that throne He has poured out the Holy Spirit—not as an idea, but as the holy presence of God dwelling in His church.

Pentecost is not an event left in the past. It is the beginning of the King’s ongoing presence through the Spirit, who unites us to Christ and supplies the life of the kingdom here and now.

 

A. The Holy Spirit Is the Presence of the Reigning Christ

Jesus told His disciples, “It is better for you that I go away… for if I go, I will send the Helper to you.” (John 16:7)

That Helper is not abstract. He is the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Giver of life. He teaches, convicts, comforts, transforms, and glorifies Christ. He is the One who brings us into union with Jesus and forms the kingdom in our hearts and communities.

Jack Miller called the Holy Spirit “the Senior Sovereign Partner”—bringing the full capital of Christ’s righteousness and love into our lives. He makes the verdict of justification real, the presence of Christ known, and the power of grace effective.

The Spirit brings the life of the King into the people of the King. Where the Holy Spirit is, the reign of Christ is active.

 

B. The Spirit Establishes Righteousness, Peace, and Joy

In Romans 14:17, Paul summarizes the character of God’s kingdom in three words: righteousness, peace, and joy. These are not abstract ideals. They are the fruit of the Spirit and the marks of a people living under grace.

• Righteousness is the standing given to those justified by faith. It is also the life that flows from that standing—love shaped by truth, obedience grounded in grace.
• Peace is the reconciliation Christ has accomplished, now lived out in unity, forbearance, and forgiveness.
• Joy is the delight of those who know they belong to the Father, who share in the life of the Son, and who are filled with the Spirit.

Miracles, emotions, and spiritual gifts all serve the King’s glory. They are signs, gifts, and responses that belong to the kingdom when they are centered in Christ and ordered by the Spirit. So do structures, callings, and delegated authority—all governed by God’s Word and made fruitful by the Spirit’s power.

The Spirit redeems what sin distorted. He restores joy to emotion. He brings holiness to power. He fulfills the purpose of the law—not as a system of self-justification, but as the living wisdom of God, now written on hearts.

 

C. The Church as the Outpost of the Kingdom

The church is where this kingdom life becomes visible.

The church is the people whom God has gathered, justified, filled with the Spirit, and made into a royal priesthood. We do not form the kingdom, but we live from it. We are no longer defined by the kingdom of self. We now belong to the rule of Christ.

The Spirit leads us in holiness. He forms endurance, gentleness, and joy. He sends us with truth, equips us with power, and knits us together in love. This is the Spirit’s work—not in isolation, but in community.

The Spirit does not erase the law. He fulfills it in us. He leads us into obedience not by fear, but by love. He strengthens our will and shapes our steps. This is the rhythm of kingdom life: the Spirit leading, the church responding, and Christ glorified.

 

D. A Better Kingdom Than the Self Can Imagine

The world still builds kingdoms centered on the self. Even its best language—equity of opportunity, equity of outcome—begins from comparison, entitlement, and measurement. These impulses may reflect deep longings, but they cannot produce righteousness.

The gospel gives what equity cannot: the righteousness of Christ to those with no righteousness of their own. The peace of God to those who were once enemies. The joy of belonging to those who had no hope.

The Holy Spirit makes this gospel real—not only in hearts, but in communities. He builds the church as the place where the reign of Christ is lived, shared, and witnessed.

Where the Holy Spirit is present, the kingdom of God is present.

 

VI. The Return of the King: Hope, Judgment, and New Creation

“He must reign until He has put all His enemies under His feet.”

—1 Corinthians 15:25

The reign of Christ is already present through the Holy Spirit. But it is not yet complete in visible form. The church lives in what theologians call the “already and not yet” of the kingdom—Christ has triumphed, but the full effects of His reign are still unfolding. We live by faith, not by sight. We walk in love, still surrounded by the remnants of the old world.

But the King will return. The story does not end with the church in struggle. It ends with the Son of Man returning in glory, the final enemy defeated, and the kingdom fully revealed.

 

A. The King Returns to Restore All Things

Jesus will return—not as teacher, not as prophet, not even as priest—but as King of kings and Lord of lords. Every knee will bow. Every tongue will confess. All creation will be set free from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God (Rom 8:21).

This return will not be the start of His reign. It will be the unveiling of the reign He has always had.

What began in the garden, was promised in Abraham, structured in Israel, fulfilled in Christ, and made present through the Spirit will finally be consummated in new creation.

This is not escape. It is completion.

 

B. Judgment and Joy Are Both Kingdom Realities

When the King returns, He will judge the living and the dead. His judgment will be holy and good. It will bring every work into the light. It will reveal every hidden thing. And for those in Christ, it will confirm the verdict already spoken: righteous in My Son.

This judgment is not terror for the justified. It is joy. It is the vindication of grace. It is the end of war, of sin, of tears, of division, of death.

The resurrection of the body will complete what the Spirit has begun. No more struggle with the flesh. No more resistance to the Spirit. Only love, peace, joy, and the face of the King.

“They will see His face, and His name will be on their foreheads.” (Rev 22:4)

 

C. The Glory of the King Fills the World

In the end, the kingdom of self will fall. Every other throne will fade. Only one reign will remain.

• The King will dwell with His people.
• The new heavens and new earth will shine with His righteousness.
• The river of life will flow from the throne.
• The leaves of the tree will heal the nations.

This is not fiction. This is the future. And it shapes how we live now.

We are not citizens of this age. We belong to the age to come. We are not building our own kingdoms. We are living in the kinghdom that has already come—and will soon come in fullness.

The church lives in hope. We walk in love. We rejoice in peace. And we do so in the Holy Spirit, as those already joined to the King who will reign forever.

 

Conclusion: The Kingdom Is Here, and the King Is Coming

The story of kingship begins in Eden, where God entrusted Adam and Eve with rule under His authority. It continues through Israel, where kings rose and fell according to their faithfulness. It culminates in Jesus, the true Son of David, who reigns by giving His life and rising in power. And it continues today in the church, where the Holy Spirit makes His reign known.

We do not wait for the kingdom to begin. It has already come—in Christ.

We do not build it with our strength. It is given through grace.

We do not rule it with autonomy. We live in it through union with the King.

The return of the King is not the beginning of the story. It is the glory of everything God has been doing all along.

Until that day, we walk in the Spirit.

We live in His righteousness.

We share in His peace.

We rejoice in His joy.

The kingdom of God has come near.

And the King is coming soon.

 

VII. Kingship in the Reformation: Luther, Calvin, and the Confessions

“Christ is not only a king to be worshiped, but a king to be trusted.”

—John Calvin

The Reformation was not only a recovery of the gospel—it was a radical reorientation of kingship. It challenged not only the pope’s spiritual supremacy but also the political theology that placed both church and state under the authority of human rulers. The Reformers re-centered sovereignty in Christ, not as metaphor, but as living truth.

 

A. Luther and the Two Kingdoms

Martin Luther introduced the distinction between the kingdom of the left hand (civil government) and the kingdom of the right hand (God’s spiritual rule through Word and Spirit). These terms do not correspond to modern political categories of “left” and “right.” Rather, they reflect two distinct modes of God’s governance: one through external order and restraint, the other through internal renewal and grace.

In the kingdom of the left, God rules through law, institutions, and temporal authority—for the sake of peace and justice in a fallen world. In the kingdom of the right, God rules by grace, through the gospel, forming a people who live by faith under the lordship of Christ.

For Luther, this distinction clarified rather than divided. Christ reigns in both kingdoms, but He builds His church not with swords or laws, but by justifying the ungodly and uniting them to Himself by the Spirit.

“I am subject to no one as a Christian,” Luther wrote, “but I serve everyone as a Christian.” The paradox of gospel kingship is that it produces freedom through surrender, strength through weakness, dominion through love.

 

B. Calvin and the Threefold Office of Christ

John Calvin developed a more comprehensive account of Christ’s kingship through his articulation of Christ’s threefold office: Prophet, Priest, and King. As Prophet, Christ speaks. As Priest, He intercedes. As King, He reigns—and Calvin saw this as the present, active, governing reality of the church.

For Calvin, Christ rules His people through the Spirit and the Word. His kingship is not delayed until the Second Coming. It is present now—visible in the gathering, sanctifying, and sending of the church. Calvin saw this kingship rooted in Psalm 2, Psalm 110, and Isaiah 9. The Messiah would rule with justice and righteousness, subduing hearts through grace rather than coercion.

He called this the spiritual reign of Christ—not because it was ethereal or symbolic, but because it was real and inward. True obedience flows from love, and true kingship forms people who love the King.

 

C. The Reformed Confessions and Christ the King

The Reformed confessions echoed and codified these convictions.

• Heidelberg Catechism Q&A 31: Christ is King “because He governs us by His Word and Spirit, and defends and preserves us in the enjoyment of that salvation He has purchased for us.”
• Westminster Confession of Faith (WCF 8.1, 8.4): Christ executes the office of a king “in calling out a people to Himself… and in ordering and governing them according to His Word.”
• Belgic Confession (Articles 27–30): The true church is ruled not by hierarchy or pope, but by Christ as its only Head, through the ministry of the Word and Spirit.

These documents rejected both ecclesiastical absolutism and state interference in the spiritual life of the church. They affirmed that Christ alone rules His people, and that He does so through means of grace, not mechanisms of control.

 

D. A Return to the Crown of Christ

The Reformers were not anti-authority. They were anti-idolatry. They opposed any claim—papal or princely—that challenged Christ’s headship. Their vision was not anarchy, but rightly ordered sovereignty under the lordship of Jesus.

They offered instead a vision of the church ruled by Christ, filled with the Spirit, and walking in love. This vision shaped not only ecclesiology, but also preaching, discipline, worship, and public life.

Their commitment to Christ’s kingship stood in stark contrast to both the claims of the pope and the ambition of princes. And this contrast would sharpen in the decades to follow, especially in the tensions between crown and altar—most famously in Henry VIII’s break with Rome, which we’ll take up in the next section. There, the king did not relinquish papal control for the sake of Christ’s headship, but rather claimed it for himself, becoming both head of state and head of church—a move that exposed how easily kingship could be wielded in the name of Christ without submitting to Christ.

The Reformers offered a different kingdom—one that did not die when its leader did. In a world where messianic claimants rose and fell, where monarchs ruled by charisma or force, the Reformers preached a King who had died—and now lived. They proclaimed a gospel in which the cross was coronation and the resurrection was not merely proof of innocence, but the enthronement of the Risen Lord.

To be Reformed is to live under Christ the King—not only in confessional identity, but in spiritual reality.

The King speaks.

The King reigns.

And the King is building His church.

Where the Holy Spirit lives, that kingdom becomes visible.

 

VIII. Kingdoms in Crisis: Rome, Popes, and the City of God

“Two cities have been formed by two loves: the earthly by the love of self, even to the contempt of God; the heavenly by the love of God, even to the contempt of self.”

—Augustine, The City of God

When Augustine wrote The City of God, Rome was already trembling. The Visigoths had sacked the imperial city in 410, and the world that had seemed immovable was cracking. Augustine responded not with nostalgia, but with vision. He described two cities: the City of Man and the City of God—two communities defined not by geography or politics, but by the object of their love.

The City of Man is built on the love of self. It seeks glory, safety, control, and permanence through human power. The City of God is formed by the love of God. It trusts in His sovereignty, seeks His righteousness, and lives by faith.

This vision became the enduring framework for how Christians would interpret the kingdoms of the earth: not merely in terms of who held power, but in terms of what kingdom their hearts belonged to.

 

A. The Medieval Synthesis: Pope and Emperor

For much of the Middle Ages, Christendom attempted to unite these cities—to create a world where the spiritual and the temporal were governed by a single order. Popes crowned emperors. Emperors protected popes. Church and state were braided together under a shared vision of divine order.

But this synthesis was always fragile. And it often became a contest of crowns—a battle between pope and emperor for final authority.

• Was the church subject to the king, or was the king subject to the pope?
• Who ruled souls—and who ruled bodies?
• Could any human power claim to mediate Christ’s reign on earth?

These questions exploded in moments like the Investiture Controversy, the Avignon Papacy, and the fragmentation of the Holy Roman Empire. The deeper issue was not just political. It was theological: Who rules the kingdom of God?

 

B. The Crisis of Henry VIII

Nowhere did this crisis become more vivid than in the English Reformation.

When Henry VIII broke from Rome, he was not trying to recover biblical kingship. He was asserting a new form of sovereignty: the monarch as supreme governor of both state and church.

He replaced the pope not with Christ, but with himself. This was not reformation by gospel, but reformation by fiat. The result was an Anglican structure where royal authority and ecclesiastical leadership were fused in a way the Reformers never envisioned.

This reshaping of church and state would haunt English Christianity for centuries. It created space for reform, yes—but also confusion about where the church’s true authority resided. Was it in the crown, the bishops, the Parliament—or in Christ alone?

 

C. The Power of the Throne: Charles V and the “Sacking of Rome”

In 1527, the armies of Charles V sacked Rome. It was a brutal and symbolic end to the myth of a unified Christendom.

E.R. Chamberlin described Charles as a modern ruler who still clung to the medieval notion of monarchy—where the king was not merely a symbol of his people, but their purpose for existing. Like the king in chess: if he is removed, the game is over.

This was not metaphor. This was how kingship functioned. The death or failure of a king meant the collapse of the world order. That’s why so many messianic movements in Jesus’s day disintegrated the moment their leader died. A dead king is a failed king. A fallen kingdom cannot save.

Which is why the crucifixion of Jesus was not only scandalous. It was, to every earthly eye, disqualifying.

Kings do not die.

Kings are not crucified.

And if they are, their kingdom ends with them.

 

D. The Death That Crowned the King

But Jesus was not like other kings.

His death was not His failure. It was His coronation.

The inscription over His head, meant as mockery—“Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews”—was, in fact, the truth of the universe. His crown of thorns was His royal headpiece. His lifted body was His enthronement. And His resurrection was not only the vindication of His innocence—it was the declaration that His kingdom cannot die.

The resurrection shattered the logic of Rome and Jerusalem alike. A crucified Messiah was unthinkable. A risen King changed everything. The disciples did not simply rejoice that Jesus was alive. They confessed what no king could claim without resurrection:

Jesus is Lord.

This is the moment Chamberlin’s world could not imagine. This is the eucatastrophe, the joyful catastrophe that turns the world right-side up.

The City of Man could not hold Him.

The papal court could not contain Him.

The crown could not silence Him.

The tomb could not keep Him.

He is risen.

He reigns.

And His kingdom is coming.

 

IX. Christ and the Modern World: Kuyper, the Bavincks, and C. Van Til

“There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry, ‘Mine!’”

—Abraham Kuyper

If the Reformers reclaimed Christ’s kingship over the church, modern Reformed thinkers have extended that vision into every sphere of human life. The kingdom of God is not limited to worship services or theology classrooms. It includes politics, science, education, economics, family, and the inner life of the soul. The modern world, fractured and self-governed, desperately needs to see again what it means for Jesus to be King—not just of the church, but of the cosmos.

 

A. Kuyper: Christ’s Lordship Over All

Abraham Kuyper, the Dutch theologian, journalist, and Prime Minister, helped the church recover a cosmic vision of Christ’s reign. His doctrine of sphere sovereignty emphasized that God has ordained distinct areas of life—church, state, family, school—and that each must submit to the Lordship of Christ.

For Kuyper, Christ’s kingship is not abstract. It governs real life.

• Schools educate under the rule of truth.
• Politics governs under the rule of justice.
• Art, science, and business all operate best when they honor the order and purpose of the Creator-King.

This was Kuyper’s cultural antithesis to both secular neutrality and religious control. The goal was not to Christianize culture by coercion, but to live as citizens of the kingdom across every square inch.

 

B. The Bavincks: Unity in Creation and Redemption

Herman Bavinck and his nephew, J.H. Bavinck, extended Kuyper’s vision with deeper theological integration.

Herman Bavinck emphasized that creation and redemption are not separate stories. They are one divine purpose—unified in Christ. The original dominion given to Adam is restored and fulfilled in Jesus, the last Adam, who reigns now at the right hand of God.

J.H. Bavinck, a missionary theologian, showed that the reign of Christ compels mission, not just to save souls, but to proclaim the kingship of Christ over all peoples and cultures. The church exists not to escape the world, but to announce a new creation already begun in Christ.

For the Bavincks, theology is not detached from life. It is the lens through which every aspect of life comes under the reign of Jesus.

 

C. Van Til: The Antithesis of the Kingdoms

Cornelius Van Til, student of Kuyper and pioneer of Reformed apologetics, taught that there is no neutral ground. Every thought, system, and structure is either grounded in submission to Christ or in autonomy from Him.

The kingdoms of man are not simply confused. They are opposed to the reign of Christ. This is what Van Til called the antithesis—the unavoidable spiritual divide between those who acknowledge Christ as Lord and those who refuse.

Van Til’s insight sharpened the church’s vision for truth in a post-Christian world. To confess that Christ is King is to recognize that every competing authority—whether secular ideology or religious counterfeit—must bow.

While Van Til exposed the antithesis between the kingdom of God and the kingdom of self, Jack Miller entered that conflict with the heart of a pastor and the urgency of an evangelist—bringing the weapons of the gospel first to himself, and then to others.

 

X. Jack Miller and the Convicting Joy of the Kingdom

“There is no more humbling work in the world than to engage in elenctics. For at each moment the person knows that the weapons which he turns against another have wounded himself. The Holy Spirit first convicts us, and then through us, he convicts the world.”

—J.H. Bavinck, An Introduction to the Science of Missions

Jack Miller returned to this quote from J.H. Bavinck over and over in his teaching, counseling, and preaching, a quote that summarizes Jack’s life and ministry: to preach the gospel of God’s kingdom in the power of the Holy Spirit with the humility of a man who had first been pierced by it himself.

Where Cornelius Van Til exposed the spiritual antithesis at the heart of the modern world, Jack Miller brought that antithesis home—to the pulpit, to the church, and to the Christian conscience. For Miller, the conflict between the kingdom of self and the kingdom of God was not abstract or philosophical. It was immediate, personal, and spiritual. And it could not be resolved apart from the convicting presence of the Holy Spirit.

 

A. The Kingdom of God and the Kingdom of Self

Jack was deeply Reformed in his view of sin—not as isolated actions, but as life under the dominion of a false master. “The kingdom of evil,” he preached, “has power. It enslaves. That unholy life has a master from below.”

He never reduced sin to mere behavior. He always brought it back to the presence of God. The real problem with sin was that it replaced the love of God with the love of self.

“God deserves man’s love. And it is an awful thing to love yourself instead of God. It is a dreadful thing.”

He called this self-centered life “eccentric”—not in the trivial sense, but in its truest form: life lived off-center, where man attempts to orbit around himself instead of the living God.

 

B. Elenctics (Unmasking) as Spirit-Led Witnessing

In Bavinck’s framework, elenctics is the Spirit-led work of conviction. Jack embraced this not as a method, but as a way of life in gospel ministry. The one who brings the gospel must first be undone by it.

Jack believed that all faithful witness begins with repentance. The gospel is first for the preacher. Conviction is not merely a concept to explain, but an encounter to live.

He used vivid illustrations: a yearlong diary filled with every thought, word, and deed now lying exposed in the street; the image of a sinner seeking heaven without a changed heart, still clinging to his hatred of God. These stories pressed people to honesty—not for shame, but for restoration.

Elenctics, for Jack, always led to mercy. Conviction always led to joy.

 

C. Repentance and the Presence of God

Repentance, for Jack, was not just sorrow or behavior change. It was the Spirit’s work of returning a man to the presence of the King. He often reminded pastors that they must be the chief repenters in their churches—not because they sin more, but because they are called to lead in humility and love.

He would ask simple questions:

“Have you done anything this week because you love Jesus?

Have you stopped doing anything because you love Him?”

These were not tests. They were invitations—opportunities for people to return to the source of love and live again from grace.

Jack’s understanding of repentance was profoundly relational. It restored people to the presence of God and reminded them that the gospel does not operate at a distance. The Spirit is near. And He comes to convict, cleanse, and comfort.

 

D. A Kingdom of Spirit-Given Life and Joy

Jack Miller taught the kingdom of God as the life of Christ, given to sinners by grace and made real in the church through the Holy Spirit. He described the Holy Spirit as the King’s living presence—bringing righteousness to the conscience, peace to the body, and joy to the soul.

He preached that people don’t just need forgiveness. We need a King.

We need a Lord who reigns in love.

We need a Spirit who brings Christ near.

And we need a gospel that is not just true, but alive.

Jack’s vision of the church was always shaped by this: that where the Spirit convicts, the kingdom begins; where the Spirit cleanses, the kingdom grows; and where the Spirit sends, the kingdom advances.

This is what it means for the church to live in the Holy Spirit.

Not to possess power—but to share in the life of the King.

Not to carry burdens—but to walk in love.

Not to manufacture fruit—but to remain in the vine.

Conviction is not the end of the gospel.

It is the beginning of joy.

And joy is the sound the kingdom makes when grace takes root.

 

XI. The Ongoing Search for a King: Popes, Presidents, and the Theatrical Return of Monarchy

“They have not rejected you, but they have rejected me from being king over them.”

—1 Samuel 8:7

Kingship has never disappeared. Even in secular or democratic settings, the longing for a king remains embedded in the human soul. We still look for someone to represent us, unify us, carry our fears, and speak with unquestioned authority. In every age, this longing finds a figure—and too often, a spectacle.

The world still wants a crown. And it still looks in the wrong places to find one.

 

A. The Death of Pope Francis and the Election of Pope Leo XIV

With the recent death of Pope Francis and the election of Pope Leo XIV, the church once again watched the ceremonial fullness of spiritual monarchy. White smoke from the Sistine Chapel, Latin chants, and the announcement of habemus papam were not simply ritual—they were a global statement of continuity, stability, and divine sanction.

Pope Leo XIV inherits not only the office, but the weight of an idea: that the church is still ruled by a visible sovereign. His name recalls Leo the Great, the fifth-century bishop who confronted Attila the Hun and shaped the medieval ideal of a pope as both shepherd and ruler.

But the Reformation challenged this idea at its root. Christ alone is head of the church. His rule is not exercised through human succession, but through the Spirit and the Word. The pope may occupy a throne, but the crown belongs to Christ—and His reign is not conferred by conclave or preserved by ritual.

The kingdom of God is not established by pageantry. It is revealed by grace.

 

B. Presidential Kingship and the Spectacle of Power

In the United States, kingship appears in a different form—but the longing is the same. Though the nation was founded to reject monarchy, its political theater often reenacts it.

Recent visits by Donald Trump to the Middle East—marked by royal horses, ceremonial arches, gold-lit palaces, and formal greetings with hereditary monarchs—have made visible the emotional power of spectacle. These events are not about diplomacy alone. They are performances of sovereignty.

Trump presents himself not simply as a leader, but as a singular figure: a unifier, a definer of national identity, a stand-in for order and strength. His appeal, and the pageantry surrounding it, reveal something deeper than politics. They reveal a cultural hunger for someone who can symbolize rule, personify resolve, and speak as if the world rests on their voice.

This is not isolated. It is global. The desire for visible kingship remains alive in a world that has claimed to move past it.

 

C. Luther’s Theology of the Cross and the Glory of Christ

Martin Luther described two competing theologies. The theology of glory looks for God in strength, spectacle, and triumph. It seeks blessing in elevation and assumes that kings wear gold.

The theology of the cross sees God revealed in weakness, suffering, and shame. It does not deny glory. It redefines it.

True kingship is not performed. It is crucified.

When Jesus stood trial, His silence confounded Pilate. When He was crowned, it was with thorns. When He was lifted up, it was not onto a throne, but onto a cross.

“We preach Christ crucified…” (1 Cor 1:23)

That was not a concession. It was a coronation. And His resurrection confirmed what the cross revealed: this is the King who reigns not by force, but by self-giving love.

Every age faces this decision. Will we seek a king who confirms our glory—or a King who shares His?

 

D. The Kingdom that Cannot Be Performed

Modern longing for kingship will not disappear. It may be expressed through popes or presidents, artists or ideologies, but it always seeks the same thing: permanence, clarity, meaning.

When those desires are detached from the holiness of God, they produce idolatry, nostalgia, or authoritarianism. But when those desires are seen as a longing for Christ, they become a call to return to the One who wears the only crown that cannot fail.

Christ has already been crowned. His resurrection was His enthronement. His ascension declared His reign. And His Spirit now brings the power and presence of that kingdom into the lives of His people.

The crown does not need to be recovered. It needs to be recognized.

The church does not bear witness to the kingdom by performing strength, power, or spectacle. It bears witness by walking in the righteousness of Christ, by enduring in peace, and by rejoicing in the joy of the Holy Spirit.

This is the reign the world cannot manufacture.

This is the kingdom no pope can secure.

This is the throne no president can occupy.

This is the life God gives—in Christ, by the Spirit, in love.

 

Conclusion: The Kingdom Is Here, and the King Reigns Now

The story of kingship is the story of the Bible—and the story of every human heart. From Eden to the throne of David, from the temple to the cross, from Rome to Wittenberg to our own restless world, the question has always remained: Who will rule us?

The kingdoms of this world still rise and fall. Crowns pass from hand to hand. Ideologies parade like monarchs. Popes are elected, presidents perform sovereignty, and the public still longs for one who can unify, protect, define, and endure.

But the gospel proclaims something greater: the King has already come.

He did not rise by conquest. He was crowned with thorns. He reigned from a cross. And He lives—resurrected, ascended, reigning now at the right hand of the Father. His kingdom is not delayed. It is not deferred. It is present—in the Holy Spirit, and in the lives of those who belong to Him.

The church does not manufacture this kingdom. We receive it. We walk in it. And we bear witness to it—through righteousness that flows from grace, peace that flows from reconciliation, and joy that flows from belonging.

To live in this kingdom is not to escape the world. It is to live in the world with a different King.

It is to remember that the crown has already been placed. The verdict has already been spoken. The Spirit has already been given.

Christ reigns.

The Holy Spirit lives in His people.

And the kingdom of God is righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.

Let every other crown fall.

Let every other name fade.

The King has returned. And He is reigning now.