When Paul and Silas preached in Thessalonica, their message caused an uproar. The people accused them of “turning the world upside down” by proclaiming another King—Jesus. They were right. The gospel they preached was not simply advice about how to be forgiven; it was an announcement that the true King had come.
In Acts 17, Paul isn’t inviting people to make Jesus part of their lives. He’s declaring that Jesus already reigns. His resurrection proves that God’s kingdom has broken into the world, and everything now falls under his rule. That truth still unsettles people because it demands allegiance. If Jesus is King, then Caesar isn’t. Neither are we.
The gospel doesn’t just offer comfort; it brings confrontation. It disrupts our false kings, the ones that rule our hearts quietly but relentlessly: pride, politics, wealth, comfort, approval. Yet this disruption is mercy, because those kings only enslave. Jesus reigns differently. His yoke is easy, his burden light, his authority marked by love and self-sacrifice.
That’s the kind of kingdom we long for. It’s why we worship with both humility and joy. The King who reigns over the universe also reigns for our good. As we gather, let’s remember: we’re not gathering around an idea, a cause, or a performance. We’re bowing before a real King who conquered by dying and reigns by rising.
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