Sermons
November 23, 2025 (Christ the King)
Standing on Our Heads
Philippians 2:5-11
My mom, Mike, and I find ourselves watching a lot of YouTube videos about archaeology, specifically British archaeology. My interest in this subject began when I was recuperating after breaking my arm, and then being stuck at home in the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic. At some point I stumbled onto reruns of the English program Time Team, which featured Sir Tony Robinson[1] as presenter, with a team of archaeologists and other experts doing three-day exploratory digs at sites all over Great Britain.
British archaeology turns out to be a fascinating subject, because any given site in Britain may have evidence of human occupation going back thousands of years. It’s a sobering reminder that, no matter how permanent they seem in the moment, kingdoms and nations and empires rise and fall. The Romans occupied Britain for less than four centuries, and the empire itself lasted only a few decades longer than that (although the Roman Republic existed for centuries before it became an empire and began to expand all over the known world).
Nobody living in the Roman Empire in, say, 200 ce could have imagined it would one day fall. I think that’s likely true for anyone living in any long-established country or empire, but if we take a long view of history it’s clear.
That’s part of the reason Pope Pius XI, a century ago, created the newest feast day in the Roman Catholic Church, Christ the King Sunday. It’s the last Sunday in the liturgical year, right before Advent begins.
In the early years of the 20th century, the western world experienced a dramatic growth of nationalism and violence, as well as the emergence of governments hostile to religious faith, like that which took hold in Russia in 1917. In response the Catholic Church instituted the Feast of Christ the King, which many Protestant churches have also adopted over the years.
The point of Christ the King is to help Christians remember that, whatever our secular government might be, whether it rises or falls, Jesus remains King and Lord of all. And as Christians we are of course free to love our country, and we pledge allegiance to our country, and some of us may take on positions of leadership in the government of our communities and our country; but Christ the King reminds us that even as we do that, we owe our highest allegiance to Jesus Christ.
Ideally, our leaders are role models for us, people whose lives and behavior we do well to emulate. That’s not always the case with earthly leaders, but it is with our ultimate Ruler, Jesus, and today’s reading tells us how we can follow his example in our lives and in our positions of leadership as we find ourselves in such positions.
There are two important things to know about the church in Philippi, to whom Paul wrote this letter.
First, Paul loved this church and they loved him. They supported him financially and through their prayers. Some of the members had worked alongside him as he ministered in their community.
And second, the church was in the middle of some turmoil. Two women in the congregation were beefing, and the whole church had been dragged into their conflict. More than likely, the trouble was caused not by some important issue like a serious matter of theology or a major building project, but by fear and anxiety.
Living in the midst of a Roman Empire that was indifferent at best and hostile at worst to their faith, the Philippian Christians were never sure when a persecution might break out. They might not have known just exactly which of their neighbors could be trusted with the information that they were followers of Jesus, and which might turn and report them to authorities who might be inclined to do them harm because of their faith.
Not only that, but there were the usual complement of financial worries that have beset families and churches forever. And to make matters that much worse, Paul was imprisoned and his friends in Philippi did not know whether he would be set free or executed.Their friend and Paul’s associate Epaphroditus had been ill to the point where nobody was sure he would live or die, so the Philippian Christians were worried about him, too.
That’s enough to set just about anybody’s nerves on edge, and that kind of anxiety can easily cause a person to get worked up about a small issue, when they couldn’t do anything about larger issues they faced. So these two women were fighting, and the church had chosen up sides; maybe people were throwing their weight around as they tried to bend the church to their will.
And Paul, as he’s wont to do, gives a big answer to a small question. He doesn’t wade in and tell the church which woman and her faction were in the right. He doesn’t impose his own solution to their problem. He just reminds them to whom they belong.
You are Christ’s, and you’re meant to imitate Christ, he says. He would probably say that any conflict between Christians is best addressed by remembering that we are all following the same Lord. And he goes into detail about what it means to imitate Christ by quoting a hymn the Philippians would have been familiar with.
Our culture values “upward mobility,” a constant ascent in our lives and careers to greater and greater responsibility and authority. There’s a joke that occasionally circulates about our political leaders:
What does a senator say when they look in the mirror?
“Good morning, Mr.” (or “Madame”) “President.”
If you’re a state legislator or cabinet member, you might dream of becoming governor. If you serve in the U.S. House of Representatives, you might dream of becoming a senator. If you are a senator or governor, you might dream of being president. But it’s a rare leader who dreams not of higher office but of taking a step down.
Even some pastors have similar ambitions. Small-town pastors might hope one day to serve churches in larger communities.[2] Associate pastors would love to become senior pastors. Pastors in larger communities imagine themselves standing in the pulpits of so-called “tall steeple” churches—big city churches with large budgets, large physical plants, and large endowments.
But Jesus is our ultimate Ruler, and how does he lead?
Through downward mobility. He held a position higher than any earthly leader or ruler: he was “in the form of God,” as the hymn Paul quotes says. Jesus was divine—something none of us can ever aspire to be. But he didn’t see that as something to hold onto for dear life. Instead, he set it all aside and became one of us—not only was he born as a human baby who grew up to be a man like any other (although unlike any other in some very important ways), but he was born into an ordinary, poor family in an unimportant corner of the Roman Empire.
He was so ordinary that, like many ordinary people throughout history, his life and death escape notice from the powers-that-be and those who write histories of kings and empires. This has led to some people claiming Jesus “never existed,” but to say that would be to say most of us never existed because our lives don’t make headlines or history books.
And Jesus went a step further: He took his obedience to God’s will to its full extent, and died on a cross to save us.
To a church mired in anxiety and conflict, Paul gave this advice: Instead of insisting on your own way, looking to gain more power and influence, look to your Lord, Christ Jesus, and let his mindset about power and authority be yours.
Think what a world we would have if our leaders, in whatever position, be it in a family, church, community, or political office, would follow his example. And while we cannot necessarily make our leaders be more like Jesus, we certainly can do so ourselves.
[1] He wasn’t, of course, knighted yet when the show began in 1993, but was by the time it ended in 2014. Viewers may be more familiar with him from the earlier series Blackadder, in which he co-starred with Rowan Atkinson. The program is airing new episodes again on YouTube with viewer support. Sir Tony appears occasionally in a guest role, but is no longer the regular presenter.
[2] For what it’s worth, I’m quite happy where I am.