Explainer
Creed
Royalty
4 min read

Consider the crown and who wears it

The Feast of Christ the King prompts Jamie Mulvaney to ask what sort of strong leader we should seek.

Jamie is Vicar of St Michael's Chester Square, London.

King Charles in a black dinner suit talks and gestures to President Macron who is similarly dressed.
King Charles and President Macron at a September 2023 state visit.

Remember singing 'God Save the King' for the first time and it took a little more effort? Instinctively, we were so used the Queen, and unless you're well into your eighties the concept of a King will still be something a novelty. Slowly the stamps have changed, and new passports are finally being printed. After King Charles' first year on the throne, and having celebrated his 75th birthday this month, we can reflect with a little more perspective about what it means to have a king. 

A new king gives us an opportunity to look forward and back. The crown cradles continuity, bringing the past into the present. And whether you've been indulging in the latest series of Netflix's The Crown or venturing further back into royal history, we can also indulge in a little time travel. Maybe not a regal DeLorean, but if you hop inside the state coach there’s quite the ride to be taken. The historian Dominic Sandbrook recently detailed in The Times how in Britain that 'it is remarkable how often monarchs’ opening 12 months have set the tone for the rest of their reign.'

We find ourselves in a liminal space - not quite an airport terminal - but one where we are on our way although not there yet. We see glimpses of this still-coming kingdom, but not yet fully realised. 

What if we went back to the future even further, considering Jesus Christ as king? We might be unable to argue with the enduring legacy of this historical figure, but most of us are unfamiliar with Jesus as King. We tend to think of baby Jesus, Jesus feeding the five thousand or Jesus on the cross, but what about Jesus as King? Today the church celebrates the Feast of Christ the King, an interestingly fairly recent tradition. A bit like the John Lewis Christmas ad encouraging us to 'let your traditions grow'. But there is nothing new about Jesus' kingship. The church has always thought of Christ as King. According to the accounts of Jesus' life in the Bible, the topic Jesus taught on more than anything else was 'the Kingdom of God'. And King Charles’ coronation was itself a portal to the life of this king. The service began with the Chapel Royal chorister greeting the new monarch, ‘Your Majesty, as children of the Kingdom of God, we welcome you in the name of the King of Kings.’ His reply? ‘In his name, and after his example, I come not to be served, but to serve.’ It was a useful reminder that the form of servant leadership we have assumed and expected from the Queen and now the King is not a modern invention or interpretation of how monarchs should be. 

Much like the arrival of a new king, Christ the King Sunday also enables us to both look back and look forward. We find ourselves in a liminal space - not quite an airport terminal - but one where we are on our way although not there yet. We see glimpses of this still-coming kingdom, but not yet fully realised. The word 'Gospel' was well-known in the ancient world, describing the good news of the rightful king who has returned home to take this throne.  

But this king is quite the contrast to the strong leader we're used to. As we look to world leaders today, we see many elder statesmen (you decide whether 'elder' or 'statesmen' should be emphasised!). There are different understandings and projections of what strong leadership looks like. 

The historical reality of Jesus, his fingerprints on the world today, and the professed experience of millions of people worldwide continue to subvert. 

Jesus is a king who comes in humility. There was speculation of a slimmed-down coronation for King Charles proportionate to the cost-of-living crisis. But in Jesus’ mind must have been more the cost of dying, as he rode on a donkey into Jerusalem, surrounded by a fickle crowd cheering his own coronation before condemnation only a week later. At his execution there was mockery with the sign on his cross ‘King of the Jews’, and of course wearing a crown of thorns. If you travel back to his birth, the magi bring royal gifts, so his life is bookended with rumours of kingship. 

What might this mean for us in the twenty-first century? On the one hand, there’s the personal, individual connection to the king. Pope Francis heralds ‘Christ the King who conquers us’. We’re happy for his rule and reign out there, but what about extending into our own lives? For the past few years on the eve of Christ the King I've been to baptism services at Southwark Cathedral. One of the symbols of the water in baptism is that we overwhelm our lives with Christ's life, and ultimately his reign over who we are, how we are, and what we do. Then there’s the broader reality: a king who does not neatly or easily fit into our political paradigms, whose priorities in one way or another will catch us off guard. 

Jesus is the king who turns things upside-down. His kingdom is not marked by borders but is still whispered of and spoken about two thousand years later. That is what we sing about at Christmas. The king arriving in vulnerability as a baby and one day - who knows when - Christians believe he returns in power as king. On that day, Christians believe justice, goodness and all that we long for will be ushered in. But until then, the historical reality of Jesus, his fingerprints on the world today, and the professed experience of millions of people worldwide continue to subvert. 

As Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German theologian famous for plotting to kill Hitler said, ‘A king who dies on the cross must be the king of a rather strange kingdom.’ The mystery amidst the majesty. Keep looking back. Keep looking forward. 

Article
Creed
Faith
Identity
Spiritual formation
1 min read

Beyond the wave and the feed

Why a generation—and a surfer—are chasing depth in a shallow world

Rick writes and speaks on leadership, transformation, and culture.

A setting sun back-lights a crowd of young people on a beach
Jen Loong on Unsplash.

For years, I've chased waves from Malibu to Maui, each one, big or small, pulling me into something raw, real, extraordinary, authentic, and divine. Between sets, I drift on my board, watching the horizon, waiting for the next wave to rise and carry me into a new spiritual journey. Each time, I'm humbled by an otherworldly sensation, a feeling beyond myself. My heart races, my toes buzz as I paddle and drop into the emerging liquid wall. In that instant, I realize I'm entering an environment that can transport me to another place, a spiritual state of wonder and awe.

When I paddle out into the ocean, I enter a world that pulls me towards something greater. This sense of wonder sparks my curiosity, urging me to look past myself, man-made institutions, and preconceived notions to what you might call the ‘invisible qualities’. For me they go beyond the laws of physics that rule the waves and the carve of my surf board. Thousands of years ago, Saint Paul called them ‘God’s invisible qualities’.    

Surfing deeply stirs my soul, tugging at my mind and heart. It reveals the wonder of each wave and the ocean's vastness, testifying to something more, a wonder and awe beyond my comprehension. In essence, surfing is my church. Every time I paddle into the liquid world of the sea, I see God’s invisible realities

Like surfers searching for the perfect wave, Gen Z is on a divine quest. Their "Jesus Curiousness" reflects a deeper yearning for something beyond the everyday - real answers and a profound sense of purpose.

New research indicates that over half (48-56 per cent) of Gen Z is "Jesus Curious," and yet these numbers do not reflect any uptick in church attendance. Someone recently posted, “The young people of Gen Z are diverse, educated, and social media savvy. When it comes to faith, they’re open to Jesus and his teachings but skeptical about institutions and leaders putting on a façade.” 

While Gen Z definitely shows a renewed interest in Jesus, they are simultaneously distancing themselves from the church. This might present a seeming contradiction, right? How can anyone, much less an entire generation, seek Jesus without engaging with the church? This phenomenon could be considered an oxymoron, much like phrases such as "almost always" or "jumbo shrimp." Or perhaps, this is an emerging trend? 

Adventurer and survivalist Bear Grylls recently articulated a sentiment that, I believe, precisely captures the essence of Gen Z's "Jesus Curiousness" and their quest for meaning outside traditional church settings. His words point to a core human longing: an authentic, genuine, and raw hope in something or someone that offers a personal answer to life's profound mysteries.

He said, “I want people to know that the Jesus I eventually discovered is intimate and beautiful and strong and gentle and relevant and life changing and life enhancing. People ask me the question, ‘what attracts you to Jesus?’ It's hard because it's like trying to say what do you like about the blood running in and around your body or water in the desert? It's like, try to live without it?” 

I think much of this shift - this renewed interest in the person of Jesus - can be traced back to how the Pandemic altered every one of our lives, specifically Gen Z. It contributed to a new and profound sense of despair, a crisis of meaning in all that we thought we knew. For example, when the Pandemic hit, it broke daily routines, both sacred and secular. Life as we knew it was put on pause and we had to look outside of those routines and what we thought we knew and practiced. We were stuck in our homes, often alone and in isolation. It gave us time to think. It created space to ask bigger, more existential questions and explore the essence of purpose and meaning. We were all forced to examine life and what we knew through a new lens. For Gen Z, this served as their catalyst. 

Notably, this larger trend of their rejection of religious institutions favors a personalized, authentic, and socially relevant spirituality. It's marked by how they distinguish between the figure of Jesus and the institution as they seek a deeper understanding of Him through unusual means. Instead of the church pew for example, they explore the commercially popular show The Chosen and contemplate the very human and honest lyrics of new musical artists like Forest Frank, both of which offer an accessible portrayal of Jesus.

In a world where digital perfection is first, Gen Z is looking for something outside of the traditional church, something authentic, a genuine connection to something real, something beyond this tangible world. Jesus to them represents this authenticity, someone to whom they can both approach with questions and find answers that potentially satiate their deepest curiosities:  What are we here for? What do we do? Is there more?

What’s interesting about this post-Christian generation is that they are not abandoning faith or becoming spiritually apathetic as many would suspect; rather, their exploration is a sincere journey for a genuine faith, leading some to consider them the most spiritual, non-religious generation to date. 

This surge in "Jesus Curiosity" doesn't suggest Christianity is losing its relevance. Conversely, it’s proof that something new, something raw is emerging and causing a shift in the spiritual landscape. It’s redefining labels and changing older definitions that may no longer fit. The underlying human desire remains constant: a quest for deeper meaning in life.

As we look at this generation and its sincere inquiry into the deeper things, we observe a spiritual renewal, a seeming revival worldwide, unprecedented in recent decades within a post-Christian society. Some call it the Quiet Revival. Gen Z does not want to fake it. They “just want to figure it out”. They are on a true quest, engaged in a journey of enchantment. At the center of their journey is Jesus, not religion and not the church. 

As my surf session ends, the salt roughens my skin and the sea's echo lingers in my soul like a quiet song. Walking back to my truck, board under arm, I relive each wave's freedom, the sound, the churn, the emerging shape. The raw power of the sea connects me to something greater, deepening my quest. You see, surfers and Gen Z in our sojourn share a common search, a common language - a search for something intangible, something immeasurable. We are on a quest to find, to see, and to know what St. Paul called God’s invisible realities.

Support Seen & Unseen

Since Spring 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,500 articles. All for free. 
This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?

Do so by joining Behind The Seen. Alongside other benefits, you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing my reading and reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

Graham Tomlin
Editor-in-Chief