Christ the King

Crown Him with many crowns, the Lamb upon His throne;
Hark how the heavenly anthem drowns all music but its own!
 
Beginning our worship with this line last Sunday made me chuckle. We’re still very much an embryonic church plant, and depending on what the Lord decides to do with our weekly English services, it could very well always be as tiny as it is now. This past Sunday we totaled 10, our own family with two women who have recently joined our team, both from the Netherlands. Our worship music each Sunday consists of however many of us are singing; with a familiar hymn like this we probably had a solid 8 voices last week. As the de facto song leader, our music often feels thin, both because of the lack of voices and instruments and also because of my own lack of training or inherent ability for this role. Singing of the heavenly anthem drowning all music but its own rang in my heart as a comforting reminder that our offering of music is not on its own, but is a part of the music of all the Church, even of those now gathered around the risen Christ’s throne. It was a comforting reminder, even a playful jab at my narrow sight, and as such it did make me chuckle—but it was also a convicting jab at my narrow sight, a jab that felt like an invitation from the Lord to let him use the sword of his Spirit on this piece of me. I have a true desire to serve the Lord in this role of song leader in our service, and I also have sin around this desire and even the act of service, sin that clings so closely! In my pride, I desire for the music of our tiny congregation to sound better, to be a better credit to me—I want those following my lead and any who should somehow hear us (in these thoughts the Lord doesn’t even come to mind) to be impressed. I have submitted to the Lord’s call to serve him in this way—I did my best to convince him I wasn’t the woman for the job!—doesn’t that entitle me to some praise and admiration? As Paul would say (and did in II Cor. 11!), I’m speaking like a mad man. But I’m also giving you direct quotes from my heart, from a part of my heart still under the sway of my flesh, my old man. 
 
Did you hear Justin’s charge to us this past Sunday to give to our King these areas of sin, to invite him in to reign in these parts of our hearts where we are still bowing to our flesh rather than to him? (If you didn’t, you should go listen to the recording!). In considering Christ on his throne this Christ the King Sunday, Justin charged us to come to our Lord in repentance, to give him these places where sin clings so closely. In a charge that felt very related to the first of repentance, Justin also called us to grateful submission. Grateful submission: submissive obedience giving thanks always. Not only in this area of leading the songs for our service, but in so many others, I find I have been seeking to submit, to obey my King if—if he will give me all I need to do this thing in a way that reflects well on me. If he will reward my obedience with gifts I then get to keep—no take-backs! If he will provide in the way I desire—what if I want and know for sure my family needs quail rather than manna? What then? 
 
What then, indeed? True submission, like true repentance, must come from a place of trust. Do I trust my King? As Justin reminded us, he is coming in the Last Day with eyes flashing fire and the sword in his hand—will I invite him in to kill my sin and conquer my flesh today, while it is still called today? He comes with a sword, but that sword is his Spirit, the one by whom we cry, “Abba, Father!” He comes, that is, in love and wielding love. Do we trust him? 
 
Awake my soul and sing of Him who died for thee,
And hail Him as thy matchless King through all eternity!
 
Amen, for he is indeed crowned the Lord of love. Beloved, let us invite him in!

Hannah