American culture is naturally suspicious of authority. From the founding of our nation, with events like the Boston Tea Party, to modern-day distrust of government, corporations, and institutions, this suspicion is deeply ingrained in the belief that we are all in control of our own destiny. This skepticism makes it hard for us to accept the idea of submitting to a King—especially a King who calls us to self-denial, submission, and transformation.
But in John 12:9-19, we meet a King who is unlike any other. Jesus offers a kingship not rooted in power or coercion but in love, humility, and truth. His kingship brings life, peace, and freedom to those who embrace His authority over their lives as their King. As we prepare for the New Year, we need to examine the nature of Jesus’ kingship—how it challenges us, transforms us, and gives us hope when we recognize Him as the true King. He is, and will continue to be, King, even though the world often does not look like He is ruling over it.
This morning, as we look at John 12:9-19, let’s consider what this means for us today. What is it about Jesus’ kingship that draws some and repels others? We all know that not everyone accepts Jesus’ claim to be their King. In John 12:9-19, we see how His kingship speaks to our deepest needs while also challenging our assumptions—about ourselves, about Him, and about what a king should be.
By this point in John’s Gospel, Jesus has already performed numerous signs demonstrating that He is unlike anyone else. In chapter 11, He raises Lazarus from the dead in the town of Bethany. This miraculous act showcases His power over death and becomes a pivotal moment in His ministry. However, it also provokes hostility from the religious leaders, who have already made explicit their intention to put Jesus to death. The miracle of Lazarus, though, is drawing widespread attention, setting the stage for the events of John 12.
In verses 1-8, Lazarus and his sisters hold a dinner in Jesus’ honor. This gathering attracts large crowds to Bethany—people eager to see Lazarus, the man who had been raised from the dead, and to consider the possibility that Jesus might be Israel’s long-awaited Messiah. Yet, the crowds are drawn for different reasons. Some come to Jesus for the right reasons, others out of self-interest, and still others remain outright opposed to Him. As we look at verse 9, we read:
“The large crowd of the Jews then learned that He was there; and they came, not for Jesus’ sake only, but that they might also see Lazarus, whom He had raised from the dead.”
There is a motivation here that goes beyond the surface. Beneath it lies a deeper truth: people are drawn to Jesus because He awakens something within them.
Jesus’ kingship uniquely addresses that aching, unfulfilled desire in every human heart.
The crowd comes to Bethany because they’re curious. It’s the same kind of curiosity that might draw you or me to visit a Ripley’s Believe It or Not Museum—to marvel at the fascinating oddities and novelties that remind us what a strange and surprising world we live in. Notice that the crowd is drawn by amazement and curiosity. Something inside them longs for what Jesus offers. They’re not just there for Jesus; they’re also there to answer a question that captures their imagination: Did this man really die and rise from the dead? The miracle of Lazarus speaks to something primal within us, doesn’t it? It points to the hope that there is life after death, that death can somehow be defeated, and that our lives have meaning and purpose. These are longings that stir deep within every human heart.
Curiosity like this is good, but it isn’t enough—it must lead somewhere. The crowd is wondering who Jesus is, but wonder alone cannot satisfy. The wonder Jesus stirs in us isn’t meant to leave us merely amazed, like spectators watching a fireworks display and saying, “Wow, that was impressive!” Instead, it’s meant to lead us to Him, the source of all meaning and fulfillment. As I reflected on this text and the crowd’s response to Jesus, I was reminded of the importance of staying curious throughout life—the kind of wonder that points us toward something greater, something eternal.
Curiosity & wonder are God-given sparks that awaken our search for something more in life.
The crowd comes to Bethany not fully understanding who Jesus is, but they are drawn by what He has done. Their curiosity is piqued, and they are wondering. Curiosity and wonder are natural human responses to the extraordinary. Think about how we are drawn to moments of wonder in our own time. For example, consider the fascination with private sector companies like Elon Musk’s SpaceX sending spaceships into outer space. It’s no longer just governments racing to beat each other into space. Now, private companies are pushing the boundaries, and it’s amazing to think about what humanity has accomplished. It makes us pause and say, “Wow, did we really just do that?”
Yet, as we grow older, our capacity to wonder shrinks, doesn’t it? Let me demonstrate. Have you ever been to Disneyland? When I was five years old, the Peter Pan ride fascinated me. I was enthralled by the mechanics and the magic of it all. But now, as a 50-year-old man who can barely fit in the cart, I notice the mechanics, the wires, and the reality behind the illusion. It’s just not the same.
Pirates of the Caribbean was always my favorite ride as a kid. I even told my pastor I wanted to be a pirate when I grew up. He quickly informed me that pirates are thieves, and I couldn’t be that. My solution? “Well, I’ll be a good pirate!” Those childhood memories are precious, but the ride doesn’t evoke the same wonder now. When I last visited Disneyland about 10 years ago, it was nostalgic, but it didn’t captivate me like it did when I was young. The older we get, the more it takes to spark our curiosity and wonder. That’s why teenagers aren’t impressed by Happy Meal toys anymore—they’re asking for iPhones instead. Yet, even as our capacity for wonder diminishes, our hearts still long for something bigger than ourselves.
C.S. Lewis suggests that fairy tales resonate with us because they echo something real—a longing for a far-off country, a world where brokenness is healed, love conquers hate, and the story ends in everlasting joy. When we see Jesus as the ultimate fulfillment of these longings, the story comes alive again. What if the reason we stop believing in fairy tales isn’t because they’re false, but because we’ve become too jaded to recognize that they were always pointing to something deeper? Life’s hardships and the finality of death seem to mock the happy endings we cherished as children. We harden ourselves against disappointment, refusing to set our hopes too high.
Yet Jesus’ kingship addresses these very longings. The crowd comes to see if the impossible has happened: “Did someone really rise from the dead? Could this be real?” Their wonder reflects the God-given spark in every human heart that longs for meaning, hope, and something beyond death.
Jesus’ kingship offers hope beyond death, revealing that ultimate purpose is found in the eternal life He provides.
The crowd comes to Bethany out of curiosity—this man, Jesus, has raised someone from the dead. Could it really be true? Is there truly life beyond the grave? Not every Israelite believed in the resurrection. The Sadducees, for instance, taught that once you died, that was the end—no resurrection, no afterlife. The inevitability of death casts a long shadow over everything we do. It reminds us that even our most meaningful achievements, our most cherished relationships, and the desires we pursue all have a fixed horizon. Eventually, the ride ends.
This shadow of death was explored by Ernest Becker, an atheist who released his Pulitzer Prize-winning book The Denial of Death in 1973. Though not a Christian, Becker’s work remains influential even 50 years later. In his book, he proposes that the inevitability of death is the hidden force driving much of our behavior. It shapes our culture, our relationships, and even our search for meaning. It’s hard to dismiss Becker’s observation. Whether we consciously think about it or not, the reality that we are all going to die profoundly influences our choices and behaviors. Knowing we have limited time often leads us to view suffering as a nuisance—an obstacle that prevents us from extracting the maximum joy and happiness from this temporary life.
This is the context in which people come to Jesus. They wonder: Could this man really raise people from the dead? Could He offer something beyond the shadow of death? Jesus doesn’t just offer temporary solutions or a way to make this life more comfortable. He didn’t come to give us “our best life now.” He claims ultimate authority over both life and death. The inevitability of death exposes the fragility of everything we build our identities on in this world, but Jesus offers hope that transcends the grave.
When our identity is built on anything other than Christ, His kingship will feel like a threat, rather than the hope it truly is.
We all build our identities on something. As teenagers, we often do things to be remembered in high school—things we likely wouldn’t do as adults—all to establish an identity. Yet, as we move into adulthood, the need to build an identity doesn’t go away.
We construct our sense of self in various ways. Some of us define ourselves by our relationships: “I am the spouse of this person,” or “I am the parent of this child.” Others root their identity in their work. For example, when two men meet for the first time, they often introduce themselves by their names and immediately follow with what they do for a living. Work becomes a primary way we define ourselves.
In John 12:10, we see that the crowd is drawn to Jesus and Lazarus out of fascination, but the religious leaders—the chief priests—feel threatened.
But the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death also;
But why does Jesus threaten them so deeply? The chief priests’ identity is rooted in their role as Israel’s religious leaders. Their authority as mediators between God and the people gave them control over the temple, the sacrificial system, and much of Jewish religious life. It was a source of power and status, and Jesus challenged that. Through His miracles, teachings, and growing following, Jesus undermines their authority by showing that people don’t need to go through them to connect with God. Instead, they can find a direct connection to God through Jesus Himself, bypassing the temple system entirely. In verse 11, we read:
“Because on account of him, many of the Jews were going away and believing in Jesus.”
The chief priests see their influence slipping away, and their identity, which is tied to their control and authority, feels under attack.
Here’s the truth: We all build our identity on something. But when the foundation of our identity is rooted in this world, it is always vulnerable. Spouses leave, children grow up—or don’t become who we hoped they’d be. Parents pass away. Jobs are lost. Companies collapse. And there’s always someone better, more talented, or more successful than we are. When our identity is tied to temporary things, it is constantly under threat. That’s why building our identity on anything in this world is incredibly risky. But Jesus offers us an identity that isn’t rooted in this world. It’s an identity grounded in Him—a foundation that cannot be shaken, no matter what happens in this life.
In contrast to the rejection of the chief priests, we see the crowd’s response in verses 12 and 13. Let’s read it together:
“On the next day, the large crowd who had come to the feast, when they heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem, took the branches of the palm trees and went out to meet Him, and began to shout, ‘Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel!’”
This seems like a moment of pure celebration, doesn’t it? The crowd welcomes Jesus as the King of Israel, waving palm branches and shouting praises. But beneath their enthusiasm lies a mix of anticipation and misunderstanding. The crowd recognizes Jesus as a king, but they misunderstand the nature of His kingship. They expect a military leader who will conquer through power and restore Israel’s political glory. They are looking for a king who will overthrow their Roman oppressors. To understand why the crowd responds this way and why Jesus provokes such different reactions, we need to examine not only the crowd’s response but also the deliberate way Jesus presents Himself to Israel.
Jesus’ kingship is characterized by humility & peace, fulfilling God’s promises & inviting all to submit in faith.
Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem during this final week of His life is no coincidence. Passover was a sacred and solemn obligation for all Jewish people. Attendance in Jerusalem was mandatory, and the ancient historian Josephus estimated that over two million people would flood the city during Passover week. The atmosphere in Jerusalem at this time was electric, filled with excitement and anticipation. Passover commemorated Israel’s deliverance from Egypt, a reminder of God’s faithfulness in the past and His promise of future redemption. Among the crowd, there was a strong undercurrent of hope that the Messiah would come and deliver them again.
As Jesus enters the city, the people wave palm branches and cry out, “Hosanna! Hosanna!” These palm branches symbolized military victory and national triumph for the Jewish people. They welcome Jesus as a political leader, anticipating a military triumph that would restore the glory of Israel.
This longing is something we can relate to. Have you ever wished for a leader who could bring peace and heal divisions in our country? That’s what Israel longed for—a king who would unite them and deliver them from oppression. But notice how Jesus deliberately presents Himself. In verses 14 and 15, we read:
“Jesus, finding a young donkey, sat on it; as it is written: ‘Do not fear, daughter of Zion; behold, your King is coming, seated on a donkey’s colt.’”
Why does Jesus use a donkey? This story is so significant that it’s included in all four Gospels. Jesus deliberately chooses to ride a young donkey to symbolize His humility and peace. It’s a sharp contrast to earthly kings who rode warhorses to display their power and conquest. A warhorse is an imposing beast, a symbol of strength and aggression. But Jesus rides a donkey, a humble animal, sending a clear message about the nature of His kingdom.
Earthly kingdoms expand through force, often at great cost to those who resist. But Jesus expands His kingdom not by taking life, but by giving His own. From Alexander the Great to Genghis Khan to Napoleon Bonaparte, history is full of kings who conquered through violence. Jesus is different. His kingdom is not marked by power and coercion but by humility, peace, and sacrificial love. Jesus’ kingdom is not one of force but of love, peace, and truth. Jesus’ kingdom stands apart from all earthly kingdoms. It is not a kingdom of force but one of love, peace, and truth. Jesus doesn’t conquer the heart with a sword but with grace.
In John 18:36-37, Pilate questions Jesus about His kingship:
Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not of this world. If My kingdom were of this world, then My servants would be fighting so that I would not be handed over to the Jews; but as it is, My kingdom is not of this realm.” 37 Therefore Pilate said to Him, “So You are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say correctly that I am a king. For this I have been born, and for this I have come into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears My voice.”
Jesus’ kingdom is radically different from any other. Earthly kingdoms are often marked by coverups, power plays, and deception, all aimed at consolidating power and advancing personal agendas. Jesus’ kingdom, however, is one of truth and integrity. Rather than waging war against human oppressors, Jesus wages peace between God and humanity. In John 14:27, He says:
“Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful.”
Unlike earthly kings, Jesus doesn’t conquer His enemies by destroying them; He transforms them by offering Himself for them. As Paul writes in Romans 5:8:
“But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
On the cross, Jesus demonstrates the ultimate act of love—laying down His life for sinners who have rejected Him. He lays down His life for His enemies instead of taking their lives. What a stark contrast between Jesus’ kingship and every other ruler in history. Jesus is a King who brings peace through sacrifice, transforms hearts with truth, and rules with love and humility.
Jesus’ fulfillment of prophecy reveals the nature of His kingship
In verses 14 and 15, John tells us that Jesus deliberately chose to ride on a young donkey, fulfilling an ancient prophecy found in Zechariah 9:9. John quotes it, saying:
“Fear not, Daughter of Zion; behold, your King is coming, seated on a donkey’s colt.”
Jesus orchestrated this fulfillment with intentionality, demonstrating that His kingship was not about force or dominance but humility and peace. This is just one of over 300 specific prophecies in the Old Testament that Jesus fulfills. That number is a conservative estimate—there are likely even more. The fulfillment of these prophecies is staggering when you consider the statistical improbability. Scholars like Peter Stoner have calculated the odds, showing that it’s essentially impossible for one person to fulfill all the Messianic prophecies by chance. Jesus is not a charlatan or a pretender. The prophecies verify His divine identity and confirm that His kingdom is unlike anything else this world has seen.
In verse 16, John notes that the disciples themselves didn’t fully understand what was happening at the time. It wasn’t until Jesus was glorified—after His death and resurrection—that they remembered these things were written about Him and realized their significance. The crowd celebrates Jesus with great enthusiasm, but their understanding is also limited. They expect Him to be a political and military leader who will immediately restore the glory of Israel. They, like many of us, bring their own expectations to Jesus, hoping He will fulfill their immediate desires.
If Jesus really is who He says He is, we often wonder: Why doesn’t He hurry up and fix all the problems in the world? These are the same questions the crowd and even His disciples likely wrestled with. If He is truly King, why do babies still die? Why is there hunger and suffering in the world? Why does cancer exist? Why are evil dictators allowed to enact cruel injustices on a massive scale? These struggles are not new. They reflect a tension between our immediate expectations and the eternal reality of what Jesus truly offers. We often look to Jesus to fix the brokenness in our world on our terms, missing the deeper, eternal work He is accomplishing.
Jesus is not a temporary king sent to fix our temporary politics. While I’m not suggesting that He has nothing to say about the political issues of our day, His main goal in history is not to make America great again—or any other nation for that matter. That’s not a political statement; it’s a shift in focus. The primary authority and mission of Jesus’ kingdom are eternal. Our nation, like every other nation in history, will rise and fall. It’s made up of people with sinful natures, just like you and me. Nations come and go, but Jesus’ kingdom endures forever.
Our faith requires us to look beyond our immediate expectations and see Jesus for who He truly is. Yes, there’s plenty of trouble in this world. Families break apart. Jobs end. Injustice and suffering persist. Jesus cares deeply about these things, but His mission is not confined to fixing the temporary. The question is: Are you looking for a king who will serve your expectations, or are you ready to submit to the humble, peaceful King who calls you to follow Him, no matter the cost?
He is good. He is the King who brings peace and hope. But His kingship also divides. Submitting to Him means laying down your own expectations and embracing His eternal purpose.
Jesus’ kingship divides hearts & demands a response.
In verse 17, we read: “So the people who were with Him when He called Lazarus out of the tomb and raised him from the dead continued to testify about Him.” Imagine witnessing such a miracle. How could you not talk about it? We naturally share what excites us. There are things I’m proud of about our church, things I’m eager to talk about—not out of arrogance but because they’re worth celebrating. In the same way, those who witnessed Jesus raise Lazarus couldn’t keep silent. If you are for Him, you will naturally feel compelled to boldly share what He has done in your life when the opportunity arises.
Verse 18 continues: “For this reason also the people went and met Him, because they heard that He had performed this sign.” Even those who hadn’t seen the miracle firsthand came because they had heard about it. These are the ones shouting, “Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!” Yet, despite their enthusiasm, there is a deep misunderstanding. They expect Jesus to be a military leader, someone who will overthrow their oppressors and restore Israel’s political power. But Jesus is not coming to fulfill their expectations in that way. The same crowd that shouts “Hosanna!” on Sunday will shout “Crucify Him!” on Friday. This reveals an important truth about Jesus and His kingship: you cannot remain neutral.
The crowd that tried to stay neutral turned on Him when the pressure increased. In verse 19, we read: “So the Pharisees said to one another, ‘You see that you are not doing any good; look, the whole world has gone after Him!’” Jesus’ presence provoked opposition and forced people to make a choice. As Jesus Himself said, “You are either for Me or against Me.” There is no neutral ground. He is humble, peaceful, and loving. He speaks the truth, even when it costs Him His life. But His kingship will divide hearts and demand a response. And to have no response is, in itself, a response.
Yes, Jesus is humble and peaceful. He came to save. His first coming was marked by humility and peace, but His second coming will be marked by righteous judgment on the world. As we discuss the nature of Jesus’ kingship, we see a picture of love, humility, and peace, but that’s not the whole picture. It would be irresponsible not to mention that Jesus will come again, and when He does, He will bring judgment.
In Revelation 19, we read a description of Jesus that is far different from the humble, peaceful Jesus we often envision. In verses 15-16, it says:
“From His mouth comes a sharp sword, so that with it He may strike down the nations, and He will rule them with a rod of iron; and He treads the wine press of the fierce wrath of God, the Almighty. 16 And on His robe and on His thigh He has a name written: King of Kings and Lord of Lords.”
This doesn’t sound very peaceful or humble. This is a frightening image—the indignant, righteous Jesus executing God’s judgment at the end of time. I want you to know that Jesus’ use of force when He returns is not arbitrary. It is a necessary act of His justice because it brings an end to sin and rebellion. Justice is an essential part of our world, isn’t it? We desire justice. Who among us could respect a God who is only love and never justice—who lets people get away with evil? Jesus’ kingship demands accountability. Every individual will stand before Him as judge. Every one of us.
Hell is the ultimate consequence of rejecting Jesus’ kingship. While hell was originally created for Satan and his angels, it also becomes the destination for all who refuse to submit to Jesus’ authority. Hell is not a contradiction to God’s love; it is a necessary expression of His justice. Think about it: don’t you despise the things that threaten what you love the most? Don’t you go to great lengths to protect and defend those you care about, even at great personal cost? Love and hate are not necessarily contradictory—they often go hand in hand. We hate what threatens what we love. Sin and rebellion threaten God’s good creation, the very creation He loves.
C.S. Lewis offers a helpful perspective. He once said, “There are only two kinds of people: those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and those to whom God says, ‘Thy will be done.’” In his book The Great Divorce, Lewis describes hell as a place where the doors are locked from the inside. What does that mean? It means that those in hell are not trying to escape. Horrific as it is, they don’t want to leave. They would rather remain there than submit to God. Dante, the medieval Italian writer, depicted hell as a place where people are given over to their sinful desires, and those desires themselves become their punishment.
Scripture teaches that hell is not only the result of our choices; it is also the place of God’s righteous judgment. It is God’s justice against sin. And I want you to know this: no one in hell cries out, “That’s not fair.” Jesus’ kingship is eternal, and He is both gracious and just. While He is drawing people to Himself with love and grace, there will come a time when Jesus will return as the righteous Judge. Whatever that appointed time is, He will bring an end to sin and rebellion. If your sin has not been dealt with, you will find yourself on the receiving end of His judgment. Your sin, though it may seem minor to you, is a big deal to God. Lies, even “white lies,” are still lies. Taking anything that isn’t yours, no matter the value, is still theft. Misusing God’s name is still taking it in vain. Jesus sees the real problem, and He has come to deal with your sin.
He is a good and gracious King who has paid your debt by going to the cross. Sin demands justice, and God cannot simply sweep it under the rug. To do so would contradict His very nature. But God did something remarkable—He went to the cross to pay for your sin. Jesus died, was buried, and rose again. If He could raise Lazarus from the dead, He could certainly raise Himself, proving He is not just another teacher, prophet, or king. He is God Almighty. Jesus is coming back, and the question is: will you be ready? Will you be right with Him?
Closing Prayer
As we prepare to partake in communion, remember that this is not just a ritual—it is an act of submission to His kingship. Jesus commanded His disciples to observe the Lord’s Supper as a representation of their submission to Him. If you are not a Christian, I ask that you refrain from partaking. And if you are a Christian but know there are areas of your life you are not surrendering to Him, let the elements pass. The Apostle Paul reminds us of the seriousness of this act, noting that mishandling it led to judgment, even death, for some in the Corinthian church. This is a moment for reverence and reflection. If you are not in the right place spiritually, it’s okay to let the elements pass. I have done so myself in the past. But I urge you to consider what kind of King Jesus is. If you long for freedom, if you wrestle with unforgiveness, He is ready to forgive you if you will relinquish it to Him. Let’s pray together as we prepare our hearts.
My dear Father, I have rebelled against You. I have not submitted my whole life to You in ways I understand, and I know there are areas I have yet to recognize. Yet, You have not cast me out. I am still alive today, and I believe You are the King, the Creator, the Maker of heaven and earth. I believe that one day You will come and make this world right. I don’t understand it all, Lord—I have many questions. But I don’t need all the answers right now to believe what I do know: that You are God, that You died on the cross for me, that You rose from the dead, and that You are coming again. I receive this truth into my life and pray that You will help me to make more sense of it as I follow You. In Your name, I pray. Amen.
