Dig Deeper into Sunday’s Gospel: Read John 18:33–37

As I read My God and My All: The Life of Saint Francis of Assisi by Elizabeth Goudge, I was struck by Saint Francis' conversion as a young man. In a profound moment, he realized that his deepest desire was to live for God, yet he had to confront the ways he had been living for himself. Goudge describes this struggle beautifully:

And so Francis entered upon this battle of winning himself for God. It must have been bitterly hard for him, for he had lived for a long time in a world of fantasy with himself the hero of all his dreams. It would take years of penance and struggle to push out this tawdry hero and enthrone Christ in his place. But Francis did not doubt that this heavenly treasure was worth winning; no one who has ever felt the touch of God even in the smallest degree ever doubts that.[1]

This reflection on Saint Francis' journey calls us to examine our own hearts. 

My friends, tomorrow we celebrate the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, and I invite you to reflect—are you ready to cast aside the false heroes of your dreams and enthrone Christ so He may reign as the true King of your heart?

It's not a question we should take lightly. On the one hand, I believe most of us are eagerly ready to answer "Yes!" But perhaps some of us falsely believe that we have already completed the task of winning ourselves for God. 

If the lives of the saints have taught me anything, it is this: each day, should we be granted another, we must recommit ourselves to naming Christ the King and Lord of all. Nothing can share the throne of our hearts with Christ, and though the faces of those tawdry heroes may shift and change, to name Him the one true King means we must continuously examine our hearts and uproot the things that threaten to push Him aside. 

On the last Sunday in the liturgical year, we are brought to the Gospel of John, where Jesus' life is in the hands of earthly rulers. Having been handed over by the Jewish leaders, He stands before Pontius Pilate—a representative of the Roman kingdom—who is charged with determining Jesus' sentence. 

Pilate asks, "Are you the King of the Jews?" (John 18:33). But rather than giving a direct answer, Jesus turns the question back on him: "Do you say this on your own or have others told you about me?" (John 18:34). This response echoes the question Jesus once asked His disciples, "But who do you say that I am?" (Matthew 16:15). In both instances, He is uninterested in the opinions of the crowd. Instead, He wants to know what is in the hearts of those before Him, inviting them to a personal encounter with truth.

Pilate, unable or unwilling to answer directly, responds by distancing himself from the situation, noting that he is not a Jew. But he proceeds to ask, "What have you done?" (John 18:35). Thus, Jesus reveals the nature of His kingdom: "My kingdom does not belong to this world. If my kingdom did belong to this world, my attendants would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not here" (John 18:36).

Of course, a kingdom cannot exist without a king. This reality is not lost on Pilate. Recognizing the implication, he concludes that Jesus must indeed be one. To this, Jesus responds, "You say I am a king. For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice" (John 18:37).

In this strikingly powerful exchange, Jesus affirms His kingship—not of a worldly, earthly realm, but one that is divine, eternal, and full of truth; a kingdom that defies all human authority and power. He calls us to listen to His voice and the truth He proclaims. 

In a few weeks, we will see our King laid in a manger, among impoverished conditions, immediately facing difficulties and hardship. And in a few months, we will walk the painful journey of the passion, culminating at the cross where His kingship is most blatantly declared: "King of the Jews." In both scenarios, if we aren't careful, we will only see what the world wants us to see—a human who is weak and vulnerable, lacking accolades and material wealth, unfit to be a king. 

But if we allow His truth to pierce our hearts, if we allow ourselves to feel even the smallest touch of God, we will be forced to confront, as Saint Francis of Assisi did, the truth that there can be only one ruler. The throne of our hearts must belong to Christ alone. He is King, not because of the world's standards, but because of the eternal and unshakeable truth of who He is. 

Food for thought or journaling... 

Is Jesus the King of every aspect of your life—your mind, family, work, personal life, body, and friendships? Do you devote the first moment of your day to Him? Are there "tawdry heroes" who need to be overthrown to make room for His reign?

Christ the King, I trust in You. Help me to surrender the throne of my heart to You and You alone. May I see clearly the false idols and heroes of my life. Each morning when I wake up, may I commit my life to Your sovereign rule so that my life will be one of truth. Let me surrender to Your reign, trusting that You guarantee me true freedom. May I serve You faithfully today and always. 

[1] Elizabeth Goudge, My God and My All: The Life of Saint Francis of Assisi (Plough Publishing House 2015), 22.