The Messiah is a King
The following essay is adapted from a message I shared at Friends Community Church, essay #2 in The Meaning of Messiah.
Every Easter, Christians around the world remember the sign that hung above Jesus as he died on the cross:
Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.
We've heard those words so many times that they can become over-familiar. Why that charge?
Rome did not crucify people for loving their neighbor. Crucifixion was typically reserved for those who threatened the authority of Caesar— insurrectionists, rebels, political rivals, and anyone accused of challenging Rome's rule.
To declare Jesus the Messiah was to openly admit that he was the rightful king of the Jews.
Rome did not appreciate that claim. They liked the king they had appointed to rule in Jerusalem. Neither did many of the religious leaders who held power in Jerusalem, especially the Sadducees. To keep the temple operational, the Sadducees who controlled it needed to keep Rome happy. Yet Jesus never denied his charge. In fact, he was willing to die for it.
He didn't have to. In the wilderness, the tempter had already offered him the kingdoms of the world if he would simply bow in worship (Matthew 4:8–10). Jesus could have pursued a kingdom by seizing power for himself. Instead, he refused. He would wait for his Father to bestow the kingdom upon him, not grasp it by his own strength. The crown would come, but it would come the Father’s way.
So what did it mean to Jesus to be the King of the Jews? To answer that question, we have to return to the Scriptures that taught him what kind of king the Messiah would be.
A Scepter Rising from Israel
One of the Bible’s earliest portraits of Israel’s coming king appears near the end of Genesis.
Jacob is dying. He gathers his sons around him and speaks prophetic words over the tribes that will descend from them. When he comes to Judah, his language becomes unmistakably royal:
“Judah, your brothers shall praise you;
your hand shall be on the neck of your enemies;
your father’s sons shall bow down before you.”
—Genesis 49:8
Judah is associated with leadership, honor, victory, and authority. His hand rests on the neck of his enemies. His brothers bow before him.
Then Jacob compares Judah to a lion resting securely after victory. No one dares disturb him. His enemies have been defeated, his authority is unchallenged, and his kingdom is secure.
But the clearest royal image arrives in the next verse:
“The scepter shall not depart from Judah,
nor the ruler’s staff from between his feet…
and to him shall be the obedience of the peoples.”
—Genesis 49:10
A scepter is the symbol of a king’s authority. The ruler arising from Judah will not merely lead one family or govern one tribe. The peoples will obey him. The horizon is already widening beyond Israel toward the nations.
This picture appears again in Numbers, when Balaam sees a ruler who has not yet arrived:
“I see him, but not now;
I behold him, but not near:
a star shall come out of Jacob,
and a scepter shall rise out of Israel.”
—Numbers 24:17
The image planted in Genesis has begun to grow. A king will arise from Judah. The scepter belongs to Israel. This ruler will defeat his enemies, exercise dominion, and receive the allegiance of peoples beyond his own. One of the earliest portraits of Messiah is a royal, political, governmental, kingdom-oriented leader.
This is where Jesus’s understanding of his own kingship began: not in Rome’s ideas about power, but in the Torah’s promise of a scepter rising from Israel.
A House for David
When we continue down the trail that is the Hebrew Bible, we turn the page into the Former Prophets, and find David in 2 Samuel 7. The man of war has finally reached a blessed season of rest. Israel’s enemies have been subdued, the tribes united. David’s kingdom is secure, and he’s living in a beautiful palace. As he looks around, one thought begins to bother him: "I live in a house of cedar, but the ark of God still dwells in a tent."
David wants to build God a house. God responds by promising to build one for David; not a building, but a dynasty—a royal line that will carry David’s throne and kingdom into the future.
“When your days are fulfilled and you lie down with your fathers, I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come from your body, and I will establish his kingdom. He shall build a house for my name, and I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever.”
—2 Samuel 7:12–13
The promise contains four essential elements:
a son,
a kingdom,
a throne,
and a reign that endures forever.
Solomon would fulfill part of this promise. He was, of course, David’s son. He inherited the kingdom, sat on David’s throne, and built a house for God’s name. But Solomon did not reign forever. God’s promise was larger than Solomon. It created an expectation that grew throughout the prophets: a future son of David would inherit an eternal throne and rule over a kingdom without end.
By the time Jesus was born, Israel had gone centuries without a Davidic king on the throne.
The Babylonians had come and gone. The Persians had come and gone. The Greeks had come and gone. The Maccabean revolt had briefly returned Jewish rule to the land, but the Hasmoneans were a priestly family, not heirs of David. Then Rome installed Herod the Great as “King of the Jews.” Herod was an Idumean, not a son of David. He occupied a throne in Jerusalem, but he was not the king Israel’s Scriptures had promised.
The throne existed, but the rightful dynasty had not been restored. Israel was still waiting for David’s heir.
That is why the title "Son of David" carries such enormous significance throughout the Gospels. It is far more than a statement about Jesus's ancestry. It is a messianic confession. Calling Jesus the "Son of David" decalres, "You’re the promised heir. You are the King God swore would come!"
Notice how the portrait continues to sharpen. The Torah introduced us to a king holding a scepter. The Prophets identify that king as the covenantally promised Son of David—the rightful heir to Israel's throne whose kingdom will never end.
And when we turn to the Psalms, David himself begins describing what this coming king will actually do.
Psalm 2
Psalm 2 opens with a question:
"Why do the nations rage and the peoples plot in vain?"
Immediately, we discover that the Messiah's enemies are raging in rebellion—not only against the Lord, but against his Anointed King. So what does God's King do?
First, he rules the nations. God declares, "Ask of me, and I will make the nations your heritage." The Messiah's authority extends far beyond Israel. He is not simply a tribal king. He is the King of other kings.
Second, he confronts rebellion. The Messiah does not ignore the world's resistance to God. He answers it.
Third, he reigns from Zion. "I have set my King on Zion, my holy hill. David envisions a real king, reigning from the city God has chosen.
Finally, he establishes justice by shattering "them with a rod of iron." This is often where modern readers can begin to feel uncomfortable.
Psalm 2 does not begin by presenting the Messiah as a comforter or a healer. Those themes certainly appear elsewhere in Scripture, and we'll explore them in the future. But the Psalm’s first portrait is that of a king with enemies who judges evil, shatters those in rebellion, and establishes righteous rule.
The psalm concludes by calling the powerful of the earth to humble themselves before God's Anointed:
"Serve the LORD with fear... Kiss the Son... Blessed are all who take refuge in him."
Psalm 110
The New Testament authors are obessed with this Psalm. It’s the most frequently quoted Old Testament passage in the New Testament. Clearly, Jesus and the apostles considered it indispensable for understanding the Messiah!
The psalm opens:
"The LORD says to my Lord: 'Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies your footstool.'"
The Messiah is invited to sit beside God in the place of highest honor and authority. But notice the purpose of that authority. It continues until his enemies are placed beneath his feet.
The psalm goes on to describe the Messiah extending his rule from Zion, gathering a willing people around himself, and ultimately shattering opposition on the day of God's wrath. Once again, these expectations are consistent with the Torah’s portraits.
The Messiah reigns.
He subdues his enemies.
He extends his kingdom.
He gathers a faithful people.
He shatters rebellious rulers.
For many Christians, this is not the first picture of Jesus that comes to mind. Many of us tend to envision Jesus first as the suffering servant, the compassionate healer, the friend of sinners. Those portraits are profoundly true, and in the coming weeks we'll spend time with Isaiah's beautiful descriptions of the Messiah's humility, compassion, sacrifice, and suffering.
But it’s worth noting that the primary portrait of the Messiah in the Old Testament is very much the king of Ps. 2 and Ps. 110. Jesus embraced all of it, not just the parts that were easy to accept.
The question isn’t whether we prefer one portrait over the other, but whether we allowed these Psalms to teach us who the Messiah is?
The Life of Jesus
After everything we've seen in the Torah, the Prophets, and the Psalms, one question naturally remains: Did Jesus actually understand himself this way?
I believe the answer is yes. In fact, once you begin looking for it, you see it everywhere.
Confronting Rebellion: Jesus begins his public ministry announcing, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." He does not arrive proclaiming a new philosophy or inviting people to join a new religion. He announces that God's kingdom is arriving, and when it arrives, its king does not take lightly to those who rebel against God’s ways.
Reclaiming Territory: As he travels through Israel, Jesus also confronts the powers of darkness. For many years I envisioned Jesus’ exorcisms more as a compassionate act of healing. I now see it’s much more than that. Casting out unclean spirits is an act of conquest. Jesus himself compares his own actions to binding the strong man before plundering his house. If the house is the land of Israel and the Jewish people are the plunder Jesus has come to reclaim, then to take that back, one must first bind the strong man holding them captive. This is exactly what we see Jesus doing in his lifetime—traveling around the land of Israel and reclaiming God’s people so that he can take back the house. He is a king reclaiming territory from an enemy.
Gathering a People: He gathers disciples around himself, just as Psalm 110 anticipated: "Your people will offer themselves freely." He forms a people whose primary allegiance belongs to him.
Reigning in Authority: After his resurrection, he declares, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me." The language echoes Psalm 2, Psalm 110, and Daniel 7. This is why when the crowds cry, "Hosanna to the Son of David," they are making a messianic confession. They believe the promised King has arrived, choosing sides for the battle Ps. 2 describes because they believe it’s about to begin.
The Unfinished Psalms
Here we encounter the beautiful tension at the heart of the gospel: Psalm 2 is not finished. Psalm 110 is not finished.
The nations still rage. Wars continue. Death still reigns. Justice has not yet filled the earth. Not every enemy has become the Messiah’s footstool.
That does not mean Jesus is not King. It does not mean his kingdom has dissolved into a spiritual metaphor or that God has abandoned his promises concerning the earth. It means the story is not over.
The victory is certain, but the King still has work to do. The Scriptures present one King with one mission. The cross was never the end of that mission. It was the path to the throne.
If this is the King of the Jews Jesus believed himself to be, what kind of disciples should we become?
First, we must become citizens.
Disciples of the Master are not merely people who believe certain things about Jesus. We are people who have pledged allegiance to a King we cannot yet see and to a kingdom that has not yet arrived in fullness.
It will not always be invisible, but it is for now.
Our highest allegiance therefore belongs to King Jesus—above every ruler, nation, cultural loyalty, and competing claim upon our lives. We must learn to order our lives under his reign now while waiting for the day his reign fills the earth.
We must also become students.
Jesus commanded his followers to make disciples of the nations, “teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.” A disciple is a student, a person who learns. Jesus expects his followers not merely to attend, believe, or feel inspired, but to learn.
If Jesus learned the meaning of his mission from the Torah, the Prophets, and the Psalms, shouldn’t we learn to recognize him through those Scriptures too? Discipleship calls us back—to sit at the feet of our Teacher and allow the whole testimony of Scripture to reshape the way we see him.
Learning should be a huge part of our lives as disciples of Jesus.
Finally, we must become hopeful people.
If Psalm 2 and Psalm 110 remain unfinished, then history is not spiraling beyond God’s control. It is moving toward the day when every enemy will be placed beneath the King’s feet. Scripture does not pretend the road to that kingdom will be easy. But its promised destination changes how we live along the way.
It changes how we pray: Thy kingdom really does need to come to the land.
It changes how we endure: Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life.
It changes how we live in exile: build houses, plant gardens, and seek the peace of the places where God has placed us.
It changes how we hope: while we can seek to better this world with the love and teachings of our Lord, we must not confuse that work for earnestly hoping and eagerly waiting for the city that is yet to come.
And so, we return to the sign: Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.
The question is not whether the sign was true. The question is whether we understand what it means?
Those words announce that Jesus believed he had come to inherit the throne promised to David, reclaim the nations for God, defeat every enemy, and establish the house of the Lord and the kingdom proclaimed throughout the Torah, the Prophets, and the Psalms.
Do we believe the things Jesus believed about himself? Praise God that he is faithful to meet us in that work.
May we become people who do not merely confess, “Jesus is Lord.”
May we become faithful citizens of his coming kingdom—trusting our King as Abraham trusted the promises of God, ordering our lives around his teaching today, and eagerly hoping for the day when we see him face to face.