The realization of his rule
What do we mean when we pray, “Your kingdom come… on earth as it is in heaven”?
Malcolm Guite poetically rephrases the question. He ponders, “Can we imagine what we’re asking for?”
When all we know and all we think we’re worth
As vanity might vanish, disappear,
Fading before the splendours you reveal
He then goes on to imagine how Christ’s rule would upend the way we view how things work in this world.
To help me meditate on Christ’s kingship, I turn to Hans Memling. He was a 15th Century Flemish painter adept at portraits. This painting, the middle section of his Triptych of Earthly Vanity and Divine Salvation shows Jesus crowned in heaven, surrounded by musical angels, who look to me like an angsty middle-school girl band. This doesn’t quite illustrate the splendours Guite references.
But it’s a good starting point for my contemplation. I focus on Jesus, ignoring his pallid visage and wispy beard, appreciating the subtle glory of his crown and the intensity of his gaze.
His right hand, the Biblical hand of power, makes a sign of blessing. Next to it, over his heart, is a medallion representing the trinity. I’m reminded that love is the power, the current, that flows through the Godhead and out toward us.
In his poem, Guite considers that Christ’s rule coming on earth would be the exalting of the lowly promised by Jesus. The last would become first. For God, in his compassion, always has an eye for the downtrodden and outcast.
Then there is this odd thing. It is called a globus cruciger – Latin for “cross-bearing orb.” In pagan art, an orb was a symbol for the world (interesting, isn’t it? How did they know it a sphere?), usually shown under the foot of a conqueror.
Christian painters adjusted that idea, placing a cross over the world to symbolize the rule of the true King. But as earthly kings began to – at least in name – embrace Christianity, paintings started to show them holding the orbus cruciger.
Perhaps they meant to show their allegiance to the heavenly Sovereign. But often, it was simply a way to justify their own kingdom building.
This problem persists. We can read it in the headlines daily.
The late, great Francis Schaeffer has a timely reminder:
We are not building God’s kingdom. He is building his kingdom, and we are praying for the privilege of being involved.
I’m struck, as I pray “Your kingdom come,” that I’m really asking God to use us to reveal his rule – for eternity established in the heavens, but growing like a mustard plant here on earth. And the Sermon on the Mount, in which the Lord’s Prayer seems like the beating heart, is the best portrait we have of being a citizen of that kingdom.
I want to resemble that portrait.
With or without the singing angels.
Jesus, you are, from eternity, the great, Sovereign Lord. Use us, your joyful, grateful servants to unveil that Lordship to the world. Make us the hand of blessing you extend to broken and sinful people.
Reader: What do you think it means to pray “Your kingdom come”?
Email me at: bvanpatter@ailbe.org. Is there someone you think would like this post? Please use the buttons above to share it. And if you haven’t subscribed and would like to, here’s the link.
