Wrong Ways to Proclaim the Messiah

Detail from “The Triumph Of Christianity Over Paganism” by Gustave Doré

Although believers urge people to proclaim Jesus as Lord and Messiah, Scripture contains a surprising number of examples where that proclamation has been twisted, arising from attitudes antithetical to the Gospel. In many of the examples below, we might be tempted to think we would never make such a misstep—but a closer look may reveal that we make similar claims more often than we care to admit. 

“King of the Jews” 

When Jesus is crucified, Pilate orders the soldiers to place a sign over the cross that boldly declares in Aramaic, Latin, and Greek that Jesus is King of the Jews (Jn. 19:19-22). The three different languages proclaim to the Jews, the Romans, and everyone else passing through this part of the Roman Empire that those who set themselves up as a king opposed to Caesar will face a swift and brutal reckoning. The mocking proclamation, laughing at the so-called power of this defeated king, is meant to deter any further rebellion. 

Those who proclaim the Messiah in this way fail to see that true power does not come from the use of force. The ironic sign, attempting to shame Jesus, instead proclaims a deeper truth that the many passersby fail to see. The true king is willing to do anything, suffer anything, to save his subjects. 

It’s easy for believers to think we would never proclaim the Messiah in this manner. We wouldn’t deny Jesus is Lord or proclaim another king. But how often do we look at the evils of the world, the rampant hedonism, the terrible violence, the myriad victims of hunger and injustice, and say to ourselves, “The world has won! I can’t see any light in the midst of all this darkness! Where is God in all of this?” Perhaps in the midst of our suffering we, too, have started to believe that true power comes only through force. Unwittingly, we have tipped our hats to the forces of darkness. We have failed to keep our focus on the long view of history, to see God at work in the dark places of the world, remembering that the ending of this story is one in which God “will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more…” (Rev. 21:4).

“You are the king of the Jews?”

When Jesus appears before Pilate, the Roman governor asks him this question (Jn. 18:33). Although many English versions translate, “Are you the king of the Jews?” the Greek construction (using an unnecessary pronoun and placing it at the front of the sentence) adds emphasis to the “you.” In this context, Pilate is taking an incredulous tone. He can’t believe his eyes—the religious leaders had claimed they were handing over a dangerous revolutionary, but how can this average-looking, bloodied-but-calm preacher be a threat to the Roman Empire?

Jesus replies by asking Pilate whether he is saying this of his own accord, or if others had told Pilate about him. Pilate snaps back that he is not a Jew, and it is Jesus’ own nation that has handed him over. Pilate assumes some terrible crime must be involved: “What have you done?” (v. 35).  He has made assumptions about who Jesus is based on the actions and reports of the Jewish religious leaders, who are desperate to protect their power. He is suddenly confronted with the realization that what has been reported is not at all the reality standing before him.

How many times have we done the same? We’ve heard reports about Jesus—perhaps it’s our family’s beliefs handed down to us when we were children, or our denominational peculiarities, or the cultural feel-good, buddy-Jesus theology blasted across TV and movies—but when we actually meet the Jesus who is King, we suddenly realize our preconceived notions just don’t measure up. Like Pilate, we need to reconsider what is truth. 

“You are the Holy One of God!” 

It’s possible to identify Jesus correctly but still be in the wrong. On multiple occasions in the Gospels, Jesus confronts demons who call him “the Holy One of God” (Mk. 1:24) or “Son of the Most High God” (Lk. 8:28). They know full well who Jesus is, but their proclamation of his identity is not one of loyalty—and so Jesus casts them out.

As James 2:19 states, “You believe that God is one; you do well. Even the demons believe—and shudder.” James’s point is that orthodoxy (right belief) is meaningless without orthopraxy (right practice). Our faith is not meant to be merely an assent to theological ideas; rather, when we say we have faith in Jesus we are proclaiming our loyalty to the one true Lord. We pledge allegiance to our King. Yet if we say all the right church words and attend all the weekly services but we don’t submit our will to the King, then we are not very loyal subjects after all. This king is not a tyrant; he desires to give us a life of flourishing and wholeness. We can only receive the benefits of the kingdom when our desires, goals, priorities, and actions conform to the will of the Holy One of God. Otherwise we, too, might find ourselves cast out of the kingdom.

“You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God!” 

When Jesus asks his disciples who they say he is, Peter responds with this powerful and truthful declaration (Matt. 16:16). The problem, however, is that what Peter means by “Messiah” and what Jesus means are two different things. As soon as Jesus tells his disciples that the Messiah must suffer and be killed, Peter rebukes Jesus: “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you” (v. 22). Peter likely has bought into one of the pop-culture messianic visions of his day: God’s Messiah was coming to destroy the Romans and kick them out of Jerusalem so that the Jews could once again rule on their own. And in his arrogance, Peter tries to tell the Messiah who the Messiah is supposed to be.

Our natural tendency, born of the Fall, is to make God in our own image, reflecting our own wants and desires rather than conforming our understanding to the picture of God revealed in Scripture. The sad part is that our own vision of who God should be is never as gracious or as glorious as the truth that lies before us, if only we have eyes to see.

“Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself, and us!” 

One of the criminals crucified next to Jesus derided him, challenging Jesus (Lk. 23:39). We can certainly understand the criminal’s desperation as he hung dying, looking for any way to escape his judgment. But his method of escape was to demand from Jesus what he wanted. Perhaps we can understand this technique all too well. How often in prayer do we tell Jesus what he needs to do for us, rather than inquire of the Lord as to his will for us?

The second criminal, on the other hand, understood that they were in no position to demand anything of this king. They had justly received their condemnation, and his only choice was to throw himself at the mercy of Jesus. His was a deathbed confession, with nothing to offer but faith in the Messiah who was drawing his last breaths next to him: “Jesus, remember me when you come in your kingdom” (v. 42). This humble faith brought the response that the demanding first criminal would not receive: “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise” (v. 43). 

“Since you are the Son of God…” 

Instead of demanding that Jesus act in certain ways, Satan tried to manipulate Jesus to do his bidding. After Jesus was baptized—having heard the Father’s voice from heaven declare that Jesus was his beloved Son—he was led into the desert, where he was tempted by the devil. Twice Satan tried to use the truth of Jesus’ identity to cajole Jesus into actions that would have defied God’s will: “Since you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread” (Matt. 4:3), and “Since you are God’s Son, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘I will command my angels concerning you,’ and ‘they will take you up in their hands so that you won’t hit your foot on a stone’” (4:6). Satan tried to convince Jesus that being Son of God meant Jesus was entitled to use his will and power any way he wanted—even in defiance of his Father. 

Satan’s method was more manipulative and less direct than that of the criminal on the cross, but nonetheless it was meant to force Jesus’ hand. We, too, can be tempted to use the same manipulative tactics: “Since you love me, Lord, surely you will do this one thing for me that you know will bring me great happiness”; or “Since you are so gracious, you will not hold it against me if I commit my favorite sin just one more time…” But just as Jesus refused to be swayed by the devil’s appeals to his identity, neither will Jesus be swayed by our feeble attempts to make our wills his will.

Conclusion

When we declare that Jesus is our Lord, we are relinquishing all claims to power. We cannot cajole or manipulate this God; we cannot force Christ’s hand. Often we need to rethink our version of who Jesus should be, turning to Scripture to correct our mistaken and self-centered notions. But what we find in the pages of Scripture is a Lord whose kingdom is one of blessing and joy for the faithful who align their thoughts, desires, and actions with the will of the one, true, gracious King.

Suzanne Nicholson is Professor of New Testament at Asbury University in Wilmore, Kentucky. She is an Elder in the Global Methodist Church and serves as Assistant Lead Editor of Firebrand.