A God that exceeds our Expectations

Third Sunday of Advent Year A

I had just recently returned from a whirl-wind pilgrimage of Eastern Europe, covering 9 countries (10, if you include our transit in Istanbul). It was an exhilarating experience taking in the whole width and breadth of Catholic culture, both past and present, that has left a deep and lasting imprint on this region. However, our last day in Rome was marred by an incident where the backpack of one our members, who had painstakingly filmed and compiled footage of our journey, was stolen, together with the all the equipment that was used for the filming. One of the pilgrims commented with pain visibly slipping through the cracks in her voice, ‘It’s as if our memories had also been stolen.” All efforts to recover the lost goods and footage were fruitless. Appeals to the hotel were frustrating, as the complaints were met with indifference and denial. Ironically, the reply, which must have been a standard computer generated answer, given by the hotel began with this line, “We regret that your expectations were not met …” Which begs the question, did they really feel remorse or regret, or were they implying that our expectations were unreasonable?

I guess the message that the hotel wanted to convey to my friend was simply this, ‘Life will not always turn out the way you want it to; so suck it in, grow up and move on.’  Maybe you don’t get that promotion you think you deserve.  Or maybe your marriage doesn’t turn out the way you imagined.  Or perhaps something tragic happens to someone you love or you’re close to.  Or you don’t get the response you want from your Parish Priest. Or sometimes, the homily you’ve spent hours preparing doesn’t come out right. So often we have expectations of what life is supposed to be or what this life is supposed to provide to us but we are disappointed.  What are we to do? The most common answer would be to go in search for another solution.

The Bible is full of stories of persons who struggle with unmet expectations. Take for an example St John the Baptist whom we hear about in today’s gospel. Due to his courageous denunciation of Herod’s adulterous liaison with Herodias, John the Baptist was thrown in prison. In that lonely confinement, John heard of the “works of Christ.” He sent a message to Jesus, asking: “Are you the one who is to come, or have we got to wait for someone else?” John was at a crossroad: should he settle with Jesus, the less than promising Messiah, or should he start looking all over again? Had Jesus not fulfilled the expectations John entertained? Had the Baptist hoped that Jesus would be a different kind of ruler, and perhaps usher in a political regime?  Or was John the Baptist struggling to back up what he had said about Jesus? All these could be real possibilities.

John had preached about the Messiah's kingdom coming with power and justice and baptising with fire and the Holy Spirit. In fact, the Baptist kept harping that a greater One is coming; a stronger One, One whose sandal he was not worthy to untie. John the Baptist created very high expectations in the people.  But instead of an explosive charismatic fire-brand sort of a figure, Jesus came across as a fizzled-out firecracker. We are presented with an image of a pacifist rather than a rebel leader, preaching a message of meekness, powerlessness, vulnerability and forgiveness. This was not going to go down well with the constituents who had grown impatient with the yoke of Roman imperialism. Unable to reconcile the contradictions and imprisoned in his thoughts, John may have doubted his own preaching. Perhaps, as he now sits in prison, John himself may have begun to doubt whether he had backed the wrong man and had wasted his entire life for a foolish cause. And so he sends a delegation to either confirm or dispel his suspicions.

Jesus then gives this reply which makes allusions to the signs of the Messianic age as prophesied by Isaiah: “Go back and tell John what you hear and see; the blind see again, and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised to life and the Good News is proclaimed to the poor; and happy is the man who does not lose faith in me.” These are words of assurance, not only for the Baptist as he prepares to meet death at the hands of Herod, but also for all generations. Even though the way of discipleship will be exceedingly difficult and sometimes we are tempted to give up when our personal strength gives out, we will be sustained by the words of Jesus – “the blind see again, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, and deaf hear.” No matter how bad things may seem, no matter how reality falls short of our expectations, no matter how dark the situation may appear, we are confident of the victory won by Jesus Christ.

The miracles cited by Jesus can be read on multiple levels. The prophecies in the Old Testament are not just simplistic predictions of an age filled with miraculous magic shows, but rather they are part of a wider drama in God’s plan of salvation.  As the drama reaches its climax, evil is finally defeated and the Messianic Age, or the Kingdom of God is established for ever.  Jewish expectations generally thought in terms of a Wrathful God raining down fire on Israel's political enemies, namely Rome in the first century, thus leading to their defeat. It would be clear from the content of Jesus’ preaching that this wasn’t part of his master-plan. Jesus pointed out the other half of the equation.  The battle was on a vaster scale – a cosmic conflict between the Kingdom of God and the forces of evil. Thus, the miracles served to demonstrate this. In themselves, they were the first glimmers of that kingdom, the defeat of suffering and pain. 

As history would demonstrate, the defeat of Rome proved not to be a military defeat, but a spiritual defeat.  Christians did not rise up in armed rebellion to overthrow the Roman Empire; they proved victorious, however, by converting the hearts of their enemies and persecutors. The Kingdom of God, therefore, is not a political entity, nor is it some future post-apocalyptic kingdom, but the rule of Jesus in the hearts of Christians.  It is the Church Invisible. Jesus was a Messiah who would show his people how to obtain spiritual freedom – a freedom ever more important than political freedom. And he would do so gently and firmly, with the spirit of Love. He came to show the Jews that God is a God of mercy, not of anger or destruction. He came to bring salvation, not political emancipation.

The temptation still lingers among the faithful as to whether God will answer their prayers and choose to intervene; and if He seems to delay, or not meet up to our expectations, will we then lose hope in him in our waiting. But this season of Advent reminds us that our fundamental duty as Christians is to ‘wait’ for the Lord. The word used for “wait” suggests earnestness that God can and will do something with this situation and that we are looking forward to what lays ahead. The Prophet Isaiah reminds us that “…those who wait for the Lord will gain new strength; they will mount up with wings like eagles, they will run and not get tired, they will walk and not become weary.” (Is. 40:31). When dissonance happens between what we want and what God seems to be give us, what should I do about it?  Should I tell God, “Adjust to my expectations”? Should I look for another Saviour? Of course not! We need to align ourselves to God’s will, not Him to ours. 

In waiting for the Lord, let us never lose heart but hold on to the promise of Christ – “Happy is the man who does not lose faith in me.” We need to allow Jesus to walk out of the shadows of our expectations. Confronted with so many who have become indifferent to religion and faith, it is futile and fruitless to add our complaints to the voices of discontent, disappointment and frustration. God’s master plan for the salvation of the world will always be bigger than our tiny little agendas. Advent reminds us that we must constantly open ourselves to the broader vision of faith and hope that allows us to take in a glimpse of that plan; this will be our true source of joy – knowing that God’s thoughts will always be above ours and His ways will always be far better than any effort we can muster. It is a joy that can only come in trusting in a God that will always exceed our expectations!

Repent means Action

Second Sunday of Advent Year A

Last week, His Holiness Pope Francis issued his newest document titled, ‘Evangelii Gaudium’ (the Joy of the Gospel). Normally, magisterial documents, often convoluted in theological jargon, would excite few and gain little attention. But this document is proving to be different. It’s the kind of text that makes you stop, sit up and want to listen more. It’s not only causing ripples but tidal waves and tsunamis in various circles. In his usual communicative style, the document is laced with this Latin American Pope’s flashes of home-spun language which can now fill up an entire lexicon, ambiguous references to various categories of persons that have earned a royal Papal ticking off, and his signature style of inspiring Catholics to have a new vision for the Church. One blogger described it as a ‘bombshell.’ What is clear is that the Pope is calling for a bold self-examination by all Catholics of how consistent are their lives with the Gospel and with the Church's mission. He writes, “The Gospel, radiant with the glory of Christ’s cross, constantly invites us to rejoice.”

But for many, it was not a moment to bring out the champagne and confetti, but an occasion to squirm in one’s hot seat. The reason for this uneasiness is because the path to joy is one that must pass through the gauntlet of repentance and the furnace of conversion. Joy is not a flipping sentiment but the consequence of knowing Christ and allowing oneself to be transformed by Him and his message. The Pope, therefore, has reserved some of his most scathing remarks to those who resist change and those who must be awakened to change. Which group of Catholics is the Pope referring to? Many of his categories were ambiguous - it could refer to anyone, and perhaps that’s deliberate. Well, as the Malay proverb goes, “Siapa makan chili rasa pedas?” (literally, whoever eats chili will taste the hot spiciness; similar to the English idiom, ‘If the hat fits, where it!’)

It’s not difficult to juxtapose the image of our present Pope with that wild-haired, camel-hair attired John the Baptist. John stands at the threshold between the Old and New Testaments, a bridge linking the two.  In John we see the culmination of centuries of prophecy, anticipation, and preparation. It may be sheer inspiration, that the Pope’s call to reform and conversion parallels the message of the Baptist. “Prepare a way for the Lord, make his paths straight.” Thus, John provides us a theological and scriptural framework for understand the Pope’s message and the message of Advent.

The first word uttered by the Baptist in today’s gospel sets the stage, the context and the content of his ministry and message, “Repent.” It’s an explosive word. A word which you would not often hear in a political correct world that would buy more into the gospel of inclusion, a gospel that demands nothing from its hearers; neither does it deliver anything new. But John’s primary message was a call to repentance. In fact, ‘repent’ will also be the first spoken word of Jesus in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark. 

Some people think that repentance is mostly about feelings, especially feeling sorry for your sin. It is wonderful to feel sorry about your sin, but repent isn’t a “feeling” word (neither is ‘joy’ for that matter). True repentance is something far deeper than simple sentimentality. It is an “action” word. The word "repent," which signifies God's desire and demand of men, is from the Greek work "metanoeo" which means "to think differently, or afterwards." The word signifies a changing of the mind and heart. The Baptist made it clear that preparation for the coming of the Messiah demanded conversion of heart and transformation, a change of direction. The reorientation would require the person to turn away from sin and turn towards Christ. The gospel thus proposes three steps achieve this new direction: Acknowledge your sins, do not presume your relationship and bear fruits that show repentance and conversion.

Acknowledging our sinfulness is the first step to repentance. It seems easy enough to understand the need for this but we still witness the reluctance of many to go for confession. It is not just the shame of baring one’s soul, but also the denial of responsibility for the sins we have committed that obstructs our path to repentance. We suffer from the illusion that we are fine, not too far off the beaten track, that salvation is guaranteed. On the other hand, many Catholics also suffer from a presumed relationship that comes with guaranteed entitlements. Most feel that baptism earns them certain privileges, but no responsibilities ensue there from. Many of the Jews did the same thing – they thought that by coming from the lineage of Abraham, they would be justified by that alone.  They relied upon their heritage to save them, it was a false assumption that lulled them into spiritual complacency.

Simply acknowledging our sins and presuming that we are now made children of God through baptism is not enough. It’s a first step, but just not enough. We see in today’s gospel John rebuking the Pharisees and scribes for not living up to their confession. What is more important for repentance is to “produce the appropriate fruit”; we have to produce evidence that we have honestly repented. Just by producing your Baptism Certificate would be insufficient proof of your conversion. There must also be concrete evidence of victory over sin to show for it. Conversion must be apparent in our lifestyle. That is why absolution should not be given when someone stubbornly holds on to a sinful habitual way of life, e.g. adultery. But it is still not enough to stop sinning.  One can turn away from one sin and yet turn to another object, person or way of life that becomes our new idol. Ultimately, the fruits must show that we have orientated our whole life to Christ. In this matter, John provides the example of the appropriate fruit. His humility and genuine readiness to step off centre stage is clear in his final witness to Jesus: "I baptise you in water for repentance, but the one who follows me is more powerful than I am, and I am not fit to carry his sandals...” In the gospel of John, he declares that Christ “must increase, while (he) must decrease" (John 3:27-30).

It is clear from the examples of John the Baptist and Pope Francis that the prophetic ministry which calls for repentance and conversion is never a popular one. It is no mere public relations exercise that seeks to hide the true gospel of Jesus in order to make his teachings more palatable, attractive and appealing. If John uses the phrase ‘brood of vipers’ to describe those so caught up in their own self-righteousness to the extent that they saw no need for conversion or change, Pope Francis would match it with words like ‘narcissistic’ and ‘authoritarian elitism.’ To undertake this task, one must be free from himself, free from fear of the opinions of others, free to direct all his energies to the one he came to announce, free for God. In short, it is not enough to preach by words but to provide the gospel with a vivid canvass that is living rather than static – one’s own personal life.

Within the message of St John the Baptist and our Pope, we find the summons to enter into the process of conversion. Pope Francis describes this as entering into the ‘great stream of joy’. He warns Christians that they “must never look like someone who has just come back from a funeral” or “whose lives seem like Lent without Easter”. Christians who heed the call of reform and conversion, are Christians brimming over with joy, and who “wish to share their joy, who point to a horizon of beauty and who invite others to a delicious banquet”. And those who have chosen to heed the call of repentance and experience the joy of the gospel, also choose to become the “evangelising Church that comes out of herself” rather than a “worldly Church that lives within herself, of herself, for herself.”

Suit Up; the End is Near

First Sunday of Advent Year A

A retreat master at one of our seminary annual retreats once shared this gem. After a near death experience, he came out having learnt one important lesson: “Never be caught naked or with your pants down when they come for your dead body!”  The thought of this triggered the memory of some childhood phobias. It was a good reminder to be always sufficiently attired, inside and outside of the privacy of my bedroom. But what happens when the unexpected takes place in the toilet or the bathroom? My fervent prayer to the Lord since then has been, “Lord, I don’t want to die this way!” Of course, the date and manner of my death was beyond my control or foreknowledge, but my prayer remains, “Please Lord, I don’t want to die with my pants down!”

Today, being the First Sunday of Advent, the first Sunday in our Liturgical Calendar, the Church once again proves to be paradoxical and counter-cultural. We speak of the end right at the very beginning, a clear reminder that what sometimes may appear to be the end, such as death, may actually be the beginning. This also helps us to keep in mind that all things come to an end and that our lives are rushing to this climatic moment in the history of salvation. The gospel stresses the suddenness and unexpectedness of this moment. The fundamental message here is the need to be ready at all times. It is futile for Christians to waste time calculating when the Day will arrive. Therefore, you also must always be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour. We should always be living with this keen awareness that the End may just be a breath or a heartbeat away.

But, for most people, including Catholics, it really doesn’t feel this way. The End doesn’t seem to be a big deal at all. The challenge for many modern Christians is not fear of martyrdom or persecution. It is the very real danger of getting tired, settling in, growing bored, and giving up on waiting for the Lord, convinced that the day of His coming will never arrive. It is the illusion of immortality. Many Catholics have lost the sense of expectancy or urgency, obscured by the tyranny of the ‘now’ – a culture which feeds our need for instant gratification and which is a stranger to the virtues of waiting, patience and silent endurance. A Jesuit writer once wrote, “The worst danger is not pain or poverty. The worst danger is sleeping through the drama of life, the struggle for life and for community against the forces of death and despair.” In other words, many would be caught with their pants down when the End comes and won’t even know what hit them. It is a world which thinks it is broad awake when it is really sound asleep. That is the greatest tragedy of all!

All of this does not allay or lessen my fear of dying in the buff. Since, Christ’s coming and the End is sudden and unexpected, how would I ever be sure that I’ll be properly dressed for the occasion? The truth is that I can never be certain. This is when the second reading, St Paul’s letter to the Romans, throws necessary light on my predicament. One of the crucial features of Paul’s strategies in all of his exhortations was to generate very strong and potent imageries in the minds of his hearers and readers. Here in this passage, St Paul uses the image of clothing, dressing and nakedness to stress the fundamental duty of every Christian, who is called to live in accordance with their dignity as children of God. My preoccupation with being ‘dressed up’ at the moment of my demise is actually misconceived and a distraction from a graver matter – being ‘dressed’ in Christ – or ‘putting on the armour of Christ’ or being ‘clothed in Christ.’

The clothing metaphor symbolises the identity and character of its wearer and it is hence universally understood that believers are being exhorted to adorn themselves with this identity in the world in which they lived. To put on the Lord Jesus Christ means that the Christian is to be cloaked, clothed, garmented with the character, the disposition, the attitude, the habits and the virtues of Jesus Christ. That is why we are called ‘Christians’ – a Christian is a ‘little Christ’ or ‘Christ-like.’  A Christian is revealed and distinguished by the nature of the “clothing” of honourable and righteous behaviour, which is the “armour of light”, that is, the Lord Jesus Christ. To put on Christ means throwing off the putrid and tattered garments of sin and darkness, in order that one may adorn oneself with the sturdy armour of light. It’s putting to the death the old self and putting on the new man that is continually being renewed in knowledge. Therefore, the most important duty as the Day of the Lord draws near is to live as children of the light, beautifully adorned in the robes of Christ, who dispels the darkness of sin and death.

Though St Paul obviously intended his clothing metaphor to have a spiritual meaning rather than be seen as a commentary of Christian-compliant dress code, this discussion on clothing oneself with Christ inevitably leads to the discussion of proper dressing for mass. Last week, I mentioned that the Eucharist is regarded as the eschatological meal, a foretaste of the heavenly banquet. If you remember the other parable of Christ concerning such a wedding banquet, the anonymous guests who were found to be not properly attired were thrown out into the night. Those of you here who now shudder as the spotlights hits you and as the temperature goes up on the seats you are sitting on, do not have to worry about what’s going to happen next. I’ve not instructed the Ministers of Hospitality to cast you out into the dark. But a word about proper attire needs to be mentioned here.

Many often resort to the usual not too Biblical maxim that ‘God judges our hearts, not our appearances’ as an argument to legitimise sloppy and bad dressing during liturgical services. We rant over the self-righteous Pharisees and anachronistic fashionistas who object to our choice or style of dressing. We claim that it boils down to humility and simplicity. Of course, let’s start off with the last argument – I believe that we can understand and accept that humility is not something we flaunt and wear on our sleeves like a badge. Similarly, the question of appropriate dressing is never about prudishness and fashion styles. It has everything to do with our clothing being a reflection of our identity, thus the metaphor chosen by St Paul. To deny that dressing has anything to do with our proper attitude and reverence for the mass is dishonest and it also rejects the principle of sacramentality which imbues our entire Catholic Theology of worship. Remember the age-old definition of a Sacrament, “Outward sign of inward grace.” The external is always seen as a reflection of the internal. So poor, sloppy dressing merely reflects one’s inner attitude towards the Eucharist – it is one which is impoverished, lazy, contemptuously familiar with the sacred, more self-oriented than God-oriented. It’s about convenience and comfort rather than providing due respect and honour to the one who allowed himself to be stripped of all honour so that he may adorn us with the glory and beauty of God.

And this is finally what is expected of us Christians at all times. Our constant orientation to the sacred, to the Kingdom of God amidst the mundane activities of human life and relationship. The difference between Noah and his neighbours was not that Noah and his family refrained from eating and drinking and marrying. Presumably Noah and his family were doing all those things as well. Even more telling, the difference between the two farmers and the two millers is not the farming and the milling. In each case, both people are doing the exact same thing. The difference lies not in the activity but in the awareness of the broader perspective of the Kingdom of God as one is going about the mundane activities of daily life. The passage is about orientation. Is the eating and drinking, the marrying, the work of tilling a field or grinding grain all there is? Are these tasks and relationships, important and vital as they are, the reason we have been created and given life? The answer of St Paul, the answer of the gospel of Matthew, the answer of the incarnated Christ whom we celebrate in Advent, is an unequivocal “No.” It’s not enough to be just clothed, but it is most necessary to be clothed in Christ.

As we attend to the details of being alive in the company of those who share our air and earth, we must also be alert to what God is doing in our world. We live in hope, a hope in the God who is, in the end, in charge of history. Meanwhile we tend fields and grind wheat, we drink, we go on with our work and play, we marry and of course, we die —but with a heart oriented to God and a mind alert to the incarnate Christ. We may never be certain that we would meet death being fully clothed, but let us for whatever reason be never caught dead without being clothed, dressed, garmented, armoured, dressed in Christ – for He is the only hope of our salvation! Only he can turn our darkness into light!

The King is Dead! Long Live the King!

Christ the King – Year C

“Le Roi est mort.  Vive le Roi” “The king is dead; long live the king!” You may have heard of this expression which has its origins in the days France still had a monarchy. It was the ancient form of proclaiming the ascension of a new king to the throne, often mrobidly at the deathbed of his predecessor. It speaks of the instantaneous transfer of sovereignty from one monarch to his successor, upon the death of the former. I couldn’t help but notice some spiritual irony in this phrase. Usually they’re talking about two different people the deceased king and the one who is succeeding him on the throne.  But both phrases could be spoken of Jesus, the King of kings. One can further note the irony of juxtaposing ‘life’ with ‘death’.  But we Christians should have no problem appreciating this association. These two themes summarily express the teaching which is at the heart of Christianity, the Paschal Mystery. The King who dies on Good Friday, seemingly defeated by death, rises on Easter Sunday, after having vanquished his foe, His victory announces the resplendent dawn of eternal life!

This week is the last Sunday of the Liturgical Year. We continue to witness the juxtaposition of the themes of ‘life’ and ‘death.’ Each year begins liturgically with birth and ends with death. At the beginning of the liturgical year sits the beautiful Solemnity of the Nativity of the Lord, Christmas, the King is born. Today, being the last Sunday of the liturgical year, we witness the death of the King on the cross. But his death is really the culmination of his ascension to glorious throne of the universe. How could the ugly cross be mistaken for a majestic throne? Over the centuries, the cross as the symbol of our salvation has been fashioned not with a bloody corpus on a piece of ordinary wood but with jewels. Precious gems and gold spoke to the faithful of the victory Jesus had achieved over sin and death and of his reign as king of heaven and earth that had been established on the unlikely throne of the gibbet. Make no mistake that the precious ornamentation is not designed to hide and sanitised the horror of this instrument of torture and execution. The jewel encrusted and gold plated crosses that adorned our worship are meant to reveal and manifest its true meaning.

Today we are invited to stand at the foot of cross and witness this truth. By their portrayals of Jesus’ passion and crucifixion, the evangelists, especially Luke and John, underscored the fact that Jesus went to his death, not as a defeated victim but as victorious crown prince, not as the last act of sad dramatic tragedy but as the culminating scenario of a well planned love story. By means of the threefold taunt or mockery that comprises the heart of St Luke’s crucifixion scene, he highlights the saving power of Jesus on the cross. All three taunts provide us with different appellations for Jesus: that of the leaders, “…he is the Christ of God, the Chosen One;” the soldiers, “King of the Jews,” and finally the unrepentant criminal, “… the Christ?” By an ingenious twist of irony, St Luke has organised his narrative so that the enemies of Jesus are his very confessors and the theological interpreters of the saving event of his dying!

The plaque with the charge that hung above his head on the cross becomes the proclamation of his ascension, “This is the King of the Jews!” In Jesus, the charge of his ‘crime’ is a profession of faith and an act of allegiance in the Lord. Finally, in the dialogue with the repentant thief, the only one who recognised Jesus’ royal dignity, we see the final act of affirming his kingship. The good thief asked Jesus to remember him when he came into his kingdom. He was looking to a future reign, but Jesus handed out the royal pardon immediately. Jesus was king even on the cross, welcoming people into his kingdom and not waiting until he was enthroned in glory. In this way Jesus shows that he is indeed a king, though he reigns from a bloody cross rather than from a majestic throne. In the story of Jesus, kingship is recast. The miracle lies in the fact that God shares the potential hopelessness of the human situation, but does so as king, as the source of our hope and life. Jesus took his wounds to heaven, and there is a place in heaven for our wounds because our king bears his in glory.

In addition to this beautiful message of the King’s solidarity with his subject, the context in of the institution of this feast by Pope Pius XI in 1925 should also be of special significance to us in these tumultuous times. Pope Pius connected the denial of Christ as king to the rise of secularism and authoritarianism. Pius XI witnessed humanistic ideologies and socio-economic and political solutions being portrayed as the new means of salvation in the world.  Ultimately, he witnessed a world, and especially governments growing increasingly hostile to religion. Just as the Feast of Corpus Christi was instituted when devotion to the Eucharist was at a low point, the Feast of Christ the King was instituted during a time when reverence for Christ’s and the Church’s authority was waning, when the feast was most needed. This feast is still much needed today as the problems have not vanished, but instead have worsened.

Pius hoped the institution of the feast would have various effects.

1. That nations would see that the Church has the right to freedom, and immunity from the state (Quas Primas, 32).
2.  That leaders and nations would see that they are bound to give respect to Christ (Quas Primas, 31).
3. That the faithful would gain strength and courage from the celebration of the feast, as we are reminded that Christ must reign in our hearts, minds, wills, and bodies (Quas Primas, 33).

Today, the power of the state continues to be used to curtail religious freedom, ironically often in the name of religious freedom, that is protecting the rights of those who may feel offended by our beliefs. We are witnessing the intolerance of tolerance. Governments and courts continue to issue laws and rulings that clearly contravene the authority of God and his laws. Authoritarianism often disguises itself as the dictate of the majority. On the other end of the spectrum, individualism has been embraced to such an extreme, that for many, the only authority is the individual self. The idea of Christ as ruler is rejected in such a strongly individualistic system. Modern man has no place for God. Modern man chooses to bow to not one except himself. More than ever, we are in need of this image of Christ the King.

In these difficult times, when our allegiance is being questioned because of our perceived obtuseness in refusing to obey clearly unjust conventions, legal rulings, policies enacted by those in authority, we need to restate once more that our citizenship is in Malaysia remains intact and firm, and we should continue to be patriotic and law-abiding citizens. But nevertheless, as Christians we need to remember and to remind others that our citizenship is also in Heaven. We must remember that we are first and foremost responsible to be law-abiding citizens of heaven and its laws. Government is not an invention of mankind. Governance is created by God. All authority comes not from man, but from God. Thus the laws enacted by such authority cannot be law unless they are in conformity with God’s laws. Christ Our Lord is our King. He is the King of all individuals and all nations. He is the final Judge, the Highest Court of Appeal, and he will ultimately come to Judge the living and the dead. Our duty to God and to our nation must thus be this - to serve the common good according to Christ’s law and not just the interest of some according to man’s dictates. Today, our voices must not just reach the rafters of the Church but must resound to the ends of the earth, Our King is not dead! He is risen! Long Live Christ the King!