Thought for the week: Finding the right pathway to God's paradise
‘The Gospel for tomorrow, the 'Solemnity of The Kingship of Christ', brings us, perhaps surprisingly, not to a throne room, nor to a heavenly vision of majesty, but to a hill outside Jerusalem, the 'Place of the Skull'.
Instead of a crown of gold, we see a crown of thorns. Instead of courtiers and triumph, we see criminals, soldiers, mockery, and the slow agony of crucifixion.
And yet it is precisely here, in this unlikely place, that the kingship of Christ is revealed. St Luke presents us with three responses to Jesus’ kingship. The rulers sneer: “He saved others; let him save himself.” The soldiers mock: “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself.” To them, kingship means power, dominance, and escape from suffering. A true king, they assume, would climb down from the cross, not hang upon it.
But Jesus refuses that path, because His kingship is not about self-preservation. It is about self-giving love. He reigns not by force but by forgiveness: “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing”. These are not the words of a defeated man, but of a King whose authority is rooted in mercy.
Beside Him hang two criminals. One joins the chorus of derision. The other, in an extraordinary moment of clarity, glimpses the truth: “This man has done nothing wrong.” He sees innocence in the midst of violence, dignity in the face of humiliation. And then He prays the simplest, most profound prayer: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” There is no theology exam, no moral resume, just trust. And in return he receives an astonishing promise: “Today you will be with Me in paradise.”
Christ the King is a King who remembers. A King whose throne is a cross. A King who reigns not by crushing enemies but by welcoming the lost. In this upside-down kingdom, victory is won through love stronger than hatred, hope stronger than despair, life stronger than death.
On this final Sunday of the Church year, we are invited to stand with that repentant thief and make his prayer our own. For all of us, at times, feel like we are hanging between our failures and our fears, longing to be remembered, longing for mercy. The good news of St Luke’s Gospel is that Christ’s Kingship is not remote or harsh but intimately compassionate. He remembers us. He welcomes us. He reigns for us.
And in His Kingdom, even the darkest places can become the doorway to paradise.
‘So, our hearts and voices raising through the ages long,
Ceaselessly upon you gazing, this shall be our song:
Yours the glory and the crown, the high renown, th’eternal name!’