A Different Kind of King

A Different Kind of King

When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, ‘Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?’ Jesus answered them, ‘Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offence at me.’

As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: ‘What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written,
“See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,
  who will prepare your way before you.”
Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.

Matthew 11:2-11

John the Baptist is in prison. He is alone. Waiting. Wondering.

He had once stood in the wilderness, fearless and full of conviction, proclaiming the coming of the Messiah, the one who would bring justice, uproot oppression, and set things right. John imagined a great upheaval. A powerful figure who would shake the foundations of the empire and usher in God’s kingdom with might. 

But now? From his cell, John hears rumours about Jesus - this supposed Messiah, and the reports are...bewildering to say the least. Healing the sick. Embracing outcasts. Speaking gently to the poor. Not exactly the revolution John had in mind.

So he sends a question:

“Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?”

I read it as a question tinged with disappointment.

Jesus, are you really it? Because it sure doesn’t look like anything’s changing.

And Jesus replies, not with rebuke or grandeur, but with a list of quiet miracles:
“The blind receive sight. The lame walk. Those with leprosy are cleansed. The deaf hear. The dead are raised. And the good news is proclaimed to the poor.”

Jesus is redefining power. He is not a king who conquers by force or crushes enemies, but one whose power is shown in mercy, restoration, and love breaking into brokenness. 

I have felt some of John’s ache this year. At times in 2025, the world has felt unbearably heavy. In Australia, we have continued to see Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children overrepresented in the youth justice system. Survivors of domestic and family violence face barriers to safety and justice. Climate disasters have swept through communities, hitting the most vulnerable hardest. Around the world, devastation rages in Gaza. Humanitarian crises grow, and the suffering of innocent people often feels invisible beneath political hubris and power plays. 

And change feels way too slow.

There are days where I want the kind of king John had been imagining - the one who arrives in power and overturns the world in an instant. A king who will make all things new, now. 

But as we read in our passage today, Jesus is not that sort of king. 

He won’t be found in force or fury, but in acts of mercy - a refugee family finally granted safety. A community rebuilding after floods. A government listening to survivors of DFV. A circle of prayer around someone in pain. A friend discovering the power of protest. 

These may not be sweeping victories. But they are signs of something real. Something sacred. Something breaking through.

Maybe that’s the miracle. Not just that the kingdom comes, but that it comes through us. Through ordinary people with weary hearts and stubborn hope. Through movements like Common Grace, where love is practiced patiently and justice is pursued with tenderness.

Like John, we wait and we wonder. But Jesus invites us to look again - not to the noise of the empire, but to the quiet places where hope finds a foothold. 

Because even now, love is still breaking through.

Eliza Johnson is the Policy Coordinator at Common Grace, with over a decade of experience in advocacy and human rights. She’s passionate about making policy accessible and helping people connect their love for Jesus with the call to justice. Eliza lives on beautiful Wangal Country with her husband and young family.

This devotional is the twelfth in a series of daily email devotionals for Advent 2025 reflecting on the realities of our broken world along with the unshakable hope that love still breaks through. It explores how God’s love disrupts, heals, and transforms - breaking through darkness, despair, and injustice to bring light, joy, and renewal.

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Common Grace is a diverse movement of individuals, churches and communities passionate about Jesus and justice. We have come together as those from different Christian traditions who stand in the continuity of the historic Christian faith, centred on the life, death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ as witnessed to in holy scripture. This series highlights the diversity of followers of Jesus across these lands. These voices may not agree with one another (or with you), but they are each an expression of longing for the God whose love we see break through in Jesus.

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