Disclaimer: accompanying photo from  http://pixshark.com/king-on-throne-images.htm. 

By Steven Dexheimer

I am a king.

I am the undisputed ruler of my domain. I took the throne at an early age and have ruled with power ever since. Some have attempted to usurp my authority, but none have been able to withstand my full might and wrath! No one knows the ins and outs of this kingdom as intimately as I do. You could say that I and my kingdom are one and the same.

However, I have noticed that, despite my best efforts, there are things that seem to be beyond my control. I want what is best for my beloved kingdom, but sometimes bad things happen, confusing things, frightening things. I rage and bluster at the disharmony that continues to inflict me. Yet, I am losing ground.

As I sit on my throne, pondering these things, a man approaches. I have never seen him before. There is nothing about this man’s appearance that strikes me…except for his eyes. They are piercing and seem to look deep within me. There is power there as well, and a quiet kindness. What is most intriguing is that he looks me in the eye as if we were equals. It is disconcerting, but I refuse to let it show.

“I have never seen you here before, stranger,” I say. “Tell me, what is your business here in my kingdom?”

“I have come to help you.”

This response is unexpected, and I cannot help but laugh. “You have come to help me?” I guffaw. “This is indeed a change! It is usually I who receive requests for help, not offers for it.”

“All the same,” he continues, “I wish to help, for I love this place as if it were my own.”

“What do you know of this place?” I scoff. “No one loves this kingdom more than I do.”

“I know,” he replies quietly. His calm demeanor is making me cross.

“You imply,” I continue haughtily, “that I need help running my kingdom. What gives you the temerity to say this?”

“I know of your fearsome power in this place. Yet…all is not well.”

I leap up from my throne, the anger growing within me.

“‘All is not well?’” I spit at him. “Now you presume to insult me by…”

“I mean no insult,” he calmly cuts in. “However, you have struggles, worries, and fears that assail you from all sides. I can help you to overcome them.”

I give him a scornful laugh. “You think that I have worries? You think that I am afraid? Do you know who you are talking to?”

“I do,” he says, looking at me levelly. “I know about your strengths and weaknesses, your triumphs and your failures, and your desire for something better.”

“I cannot tell whether you are a liar or a madman,” I growl, “but I will humor you just this once. Tell me, how would you help this kingdom?”

He answers me with a straight-face:

“Make me your king.”

“Impudence!” I roar in fury. I thunder down the dais and stand toe to toe with this…this…

“It can be the only way,” he replies unblinkingly. “Change cannot occur unless I have full control of your kingdom.”

“How…how dare you come in here and threaten to overthrow me!” I shake my fist in his unperturbed face. “I…am…the… king!”

“I do not wish to overthrow you,” he replies. “The change will have to come voluntarily through you.”

Give up my kingdom voluntarily? This man must be mad. Yet, despite my indignant rage, a curiosity comes over me.

“What,” I huff, “can you offer this kingdom that I can’t?”

“Peace,” he says, and somehow, deep within me, I know it to be true. He continues, “I can bring joy, and love, and hope, and purpose.”

With every attribute he mentions, I feel my rage seep out of me. I feel drained, empty, and weak. For the first time, I feel…unworthy. There is a long moment of silence before I am finally able to speak again.

“Who…who are you?”

He tells me his name. It is a name that resonates with power. It pierces me like his eyes. With a growing sense of humility, I remove the crown that had been resting upon my head for so many years. I hold it in my hands and study it before handing it over. I kneel before him.

“Hail,” I whisper, “King Jesus.”