Light in the Darkness: Hope at the End of the Church Year
This Sunday we come to the final week of the Church year, Christ the King Sunday, a feast that invites us to reflect on the kind of reign Jesus embodies and the kind of hope we place our trust in. It can be tempting, in a world filled with competing powers and anxieties, to imagine God’s kingdom as simply a better version of the systems we already know. But the scriptures appointed for this Sunday ask us to imagine something far deeper and more expansive: a reign that heals what is broken, gathers what has been scattered, and offers mercy even where the world sees little worth redeeming.
Throughout the readings, a picture emerges of a God who does not give up on creation, even when leaders fail, communities fracture, or injustice feels entrenched. We hear of a people longing for shepherds who care for the flock rather than exploit it, and of God’s promise to raise up such leadership. The promise is not about national triumph or religious dominance. Instead, it is about justice, wisdom, and safety; a type of leadership rooted in compassion rather than coercion.
That theme continues as we hear the words of an ancient blessing, spoken by someone who recognized God’s presence breaking into the world in quiet but decisive ways. There is talk of light dawning for those who sit in darkness, and of God guiding the faithful into the way of peace. The image is gentle, almost fragile, more like the first light of morning than the blast of a trumpet. But that is often how God’s kingdom works. It begins in small mercies, in humble faithfulness, and in God’s steady commitment to renewal.
In one of the epistles often read this time of year, Christ is described in language that stretches our imaginations. He is not only a teacher or a prophet but the very one in whom all things hold together. Creation itself finds clarity and healing in him. This is not the language of nationalism or territorial control. It is the language of cosmic reconciliation. It reminds us that God’s work is never confined to one people, one place, or one political identity. Jesus is sovereign not because he dominates but because he reconciles, restores, and draws all things toward wholeness.
And then, with almost startling contrast, the Gospel places us at the foot of the cross. It is a scene stripped of power and status. Jesus is surrounded by the machinery of an empire, mocked by those who cannot see any sign of kingship in his suffering. And yet, even there, especially there, his true reign becomes clear. When one of the men crucified beside him turns toward him in desperate hope, Jesus responds with mercy that refuses to be limited by circumstance, guilt, or fear. In the very moment when the world declares him defeated, he reveals the depth of his authority: the authority to forgive, to welcome, and to promise a future nothing can steal away.
If Christ’s kingship looks strange to us, that may be the point. It asks us to let go of the idea that God’s rule resembles the power structures of our world. It challenges the notion that faith should serve national identity or that any nation can claim divine privilege. Christian Nationalism, an idea gaining traction in many places, places borders around God’s kingdom. But God doesn’t have borders. Jesus continually is continually open to all. Christ’s reign extends far beyond any political boundary, gathering people from every corner of creation, not to exalt a nation but to heal a world.
And so, on this Christ the King Sunday, we are invited to place our trust not in systems that rise and fall, nor in leaders who inevitably struggle and falter, but in the Divine who holds all things together with reconciling love. God’s mercy may seem improbable at times, especially when the world feels fractured, but the scriptures remind us that this mercy is the very fabric of Christ’s kingdom. It meets us without coercion, heals where it can take root, honors our freedom, and assures us that we never walk alone.
As we end one Church year and prepare to begin another, perhaps we are called to reflect on where we see this quiet, persistent kingship at work. In forgiveness offered. In courage renewed. In compassion extended. In communities strengthened. In the small, everyday ways Christ continues to gather us into the life of God’s wide and generous kingdom; a kingdom without borders, driven by mercy, and shaped by love.
Kevin+
