The King Who Refused a War Horse

Anchor verse: Mathew 21:1-11

Messianic Hope

“No longer certain that one ever does win a war, I am,” Yoda admits in the sixth season of The Clone Wars. “For in fighting the battles, the bloodshed, already lost we have.”

This week’s scriptures are an example of a passage not written for modern people in mind. The passage is rich in sacred scriptures that would have held deep meaning for the first and second century Jews and eventually Christians. Throughout the passage are themes of Messianic hope that serves as an flashing arrow to Jesus as the Messiah.

If we look deeper, especially from the Jewish perspective, we will find that Messianic hope is woven through the entire Bible—a longing for a divinely chosen Savior who would restore Israel and bring salvation to the world. This hope springs up in Genesis 3:15, where God promises that evil will be defeated through the woman’s offspring, continues in God’s covenant with Abraham (Genesis 12:3), and finds further expression in God’s promise to David (2 Samuel 7:16) that his line would endure. The prophets—especially Isaiah—paint the Messiah as both a suffering servant and a righteous king (Isaiah 53; 9:6-7).

The Psalms cry out for this coming deliverer—a ruler who will inherit the nations (Psalm 2) and serve as a priest-king (Psalm 110). Jesus, as a faithful Jew, knew these stories by heart. He often called out the hypocrisy of the religious leaders, challenging them to follow the law as Moses had prescribed. But Jesus didn’t come as a worldly king wielding power or violence. Instead, he showed up as a humble, nonviolent dissident—answering power with love. To truly grasp how he subverts expectations, let’s continue digging deeper.

In the ancient Middle East, kings rode war horses in battle but donkeys in times of peace. The donkey was the common person’s animal—a symbol of solidarity, humility, and peace. By riding a donkey, a king declared he was not above his people but one with them.

Zechariah 9:9-10 gives us a prophetic portrait: a king who comes with righteousness and humility, not violence. He “removes the chariots,” “takes away the war-horses,” and “breaks the battle bow.” He “proclaims peace to the nations” and his “rule shall be from sea to sea.” Jesus, by choosing the donkey, exposes the brutality of Roman power and the corruption among Jewish officials, and declares a new kind of kindom—one marked by peace and compassion, not domination.

As Jesus enters Jerusalem—packed with pilgrims for Passover—he puts this vision into action. He wants all to see what peace under God’s king truly means. His humble entrance fulfills Zechariah’s prophecy and echoes the angels’ song at his birth: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men” (Luke 2:14). This is not just the absence of war, but shalom—wholeness, reconciliation, and the restoration of God’s people.

Jesus’ choice also reaches back to Genesis 49:11, where Jacob’s blessing of Judah envisions a ruler binding his donkey to the vine—a sign of peace and prosperity. By riding a donkey, the author of Mathew demonstrates that Jesus identifies himself as the promised descendant of Judah and the one who brings God’s ancient promises to fulfillment.

In God choosing to embody a human form in Jesus, God demonstrates the limits of God’s power. It demonstrates to all of us that God is with us. In Jesus, unlike Zeus, Hercules and the other god’s of the Greeks and Romans shows up with humility. So this then brings up a powerful question for us and the ancient first and second century Jews and eventual Christians, can God be weak?

Can God Be Weak? Understanding God’s Power

It is possible that we have been understanding God’s power incorrectly and it has caused a lot of problems for people associated with Christians ever since.

Here’s an uncomfortable truth: the idea of an omnipotent God doesn’t match the original biblical language. In his book, The Death of Omnipotence and the Birth of Amipotence , Thomas Jay Ord argues there is no textual evidence for the belief that God is all-powerful in the Bible. Three terms are translated “almighty” in relation to God. The first, the Hebrew word El Shaddai, is usually translated as God Almighty, but Ord claims this is a mistranslation. Its oldest meaning is tied to God as a nurturer and protector who helps people flourish, not as an all-powerful deity. Moreover, this term carries feminine connotations, challenging traditional male imagery of God.

The second Hebrew word, sabaoth, sometimes translated “almighty,” actually means “forces,” “armies,” “hosts,” or “council.” When used for God, it’s best rendered “lord of hosts” or “head of a council.” Outside references to God, it is never translated as “almighty.” The third term is the Greek word pantokrator, appearing first in the Septuagint (The Greek translation of the bible). It means “all-holding” or “all-sustaining,” not “almighty.” In the fourth century, Jerome translated pantokrator into Latin as omnipotens, from which we get “omnipotence,” but this too was a mistranslation. As Ord notes, no biblical words literally mean “omnipotent,” “almighty,” or “all-powerful.” Jesus never referred to God as omnipotent. While the scriptures describe God as powerful, none call God all-powerful.

These are all concepts that Jesus and the Jewish people knew well. In modern times, we can consider the paradox of Omnipotence by asking the classical question, “can God create a rock so heavy that even He cannot lift it? In this way, some thinkers suggest that God shows “weakness though acts of love, by allowing free will or in the case of becoming human through Jesus, demonstrates vulnerability.

Ok, take a moment to catch your breath, that may have been a lot. But we must consider this when we think about how the concepts of suffering, prayer and relationship between God and humanity. God’s willingness to embrace weakness, vulnerability, and limitation is not a flaw, but a profound strength. In Jesus, we see a God who chooses solidarity with humanity, not distance or domination. This reframing of divine power challenges us to rethink what true strength looks like—sometimes, power is best expressed through self-emptying, compassion, and the ability to suffer alongside others.

This perspective invites us to consider how we understand God’s presence in our own times of weakness and need. If God is most fully revealed in Christ’s humility, then perhaps our moments of vulnerability are not evidence of God’s absence, but invitations to encounter the divine in new ways.

Humbling Ourselves Before God and Others

To be a Christian is to refuse a war horse much like Jesus did two thousand and some years ago. By His life, Jesus demonstrates that choosing humility and accepting derision often means bearing a cost. Imagine how it would look if our leaders chose humility and compassion over war and grandstanding. In the ancient world, a king entering a city on a horse was making a statement: “I come with power, I come with force, I come to conquer.”

A king entering on a donkey was making a different statement: “I come in peace, I come in humility, I come to serve.” Jesus is not just fulfilling prophecy—he is redefining what power looks like. He is saying, “I will not play by the empire’s rules, I will not mirror the violence of the world, I will not become what I came to heal.” That is humility—not weakness, but the strength to choose a different way.  This is the message I want you to focus on, choosing a different way of demonstrating strength.

Nowadays, Christianity often centers on strength, but this isn’t a new development. The Church Militant is a branch of reformed theology that views our earthly journey and the challenges we encounter as battles to be fought as the body of Christ. This perspective is fueled by selectively quoting scripture, which can foster a confrontational mindset that puts fighting ahead of compassion and understanding. Unfortunately, this mentality risks turning the Church into a “Church Belligerent,” where the focus shifts from winning hearts and nurturing authentic relationships to winning arguments.

Instead, we must embody the humility of Jesus in our daily walk. This means putting others’ needs before our own and being willing to step back so that others can step forward. Integrity is about living honestly and consistently, where our actions match our beliefs. Jesus embodied these traits perfectly. And you are called to mirror this posture.

Fine

So, as we picture Jesus entering Jerusalem, let’s remember: he isn’t a king who conquers by might, but by love. He fulfills the prophets, embodies God’s peace, and calls us to a kindom not of violence, but of humility, compassion, and self-giving service. That is the true hope of the Messiah. Amen.