A Crown of Victory
by Celina Worley
What do you picture when you hear the word crown? Glory? Honor? Royalty? For millennia the symbol of a crown has meant all these things and more. In the time of Jesus Christ a crown symbolized power, superiority and monarchy, it was what you wore because you were king.
Jesus was born a king. He was the hope of the Jewish people. He was going to ride into their city like a king on a donkey and they were going to sing and wave branches. That happened. He was going to be lifted up, draw all people to Himself, and that happened too. But what was this lifting up? Where did He get the power to draw all of our wayward hearts to Himself?
He was lifted up, not in royal robes or under a golden canopy, but naked and brutalized on a cross of wood. He was not raised high to be celebrated by an adoring crowd, but hung up high to be slowly crushed under the kingdom He had come to win back, to save with His own life.
There was no feast, only bitter vinegar. There was no signet ring, only nails to cut his hands and press them into the wood. Oh yes, and what of the crown? Every king must have his crown. Jesus was a king. A king fighting to save His realm, and for this He would have and wear a crown.
And what was His crown? It wasn’t golden like the Egyptian crowns, believed to link men with the gods. It wasn’t a green wreath or garland, like the Roman crowns, worn to signify victory. No, it was a circle mass of many thorns; dry and sharp, slipping underneath the skin in every direction.
Jesus put on the crown. He was our link to God. And Jesus felt it cut in deep. He claimed victory for all of us. Through the horror of His coronation He won back this Kingdom. He restored the Monarchy. And for me, that is everything. When I see a crown or wreath of thorns, I bow my head and worship. Why? It is a symbol of royalty, true royalty.
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