It seems like every few years, a new movement rises up to shout, “No kings!” It’s an old sentiment wearing a fresh coat of paint — this time around, protesters marched with banners declaring their independence from any authority that dares to tell them how to live, think, or believe.
I watched some of the coverage this past Saturday, and I couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of understanding and sadness. On one hand, who among us hasn’t felt the pull to push back against control? We love our freedom — it’s part of our national DNA. But on the other hand, this “No Kings” cry reveals something deeper, something that runs to the very heart of the human condition: we want to be our own rulers.
And that’s not new at all. It’s as old as Eden.
The First “No Kings” Protest
When Adam and Eve bit into that forbidden fruit, it wasn’t about hunger — it was about autonomy. They didn’t want to live under God’s rule anymore. They wanted to call their own shots. “No kings,” they said, though not with words but with a bite.
The book of Judges ends with a haunting line:
“In those days Israel had no king; all the people did whatever seemed right in their own eyes.” — Judges 21:25 (NLT)
That verse could easily headline our news today. We’ve traded monarchs for algorithms, prophets for influencers, and the idea of divine order for personal preference. Everyone is their own authority, their own truth, their own moral compass.
Yet that kind of freedom isn’t freedom at all — it’s a slow unraveling. When everyone is their own king, we end up in conflict. When everyone defines truth, truth itself loses its meaning.
A Fisherman’s Reflection
As a fisherman I am always tryting to outsmart some particularly uncooperative fish. As I cast and reeled in my line, I’ve noticed how often I get impatient. I want the fish to bite now, the weather to stay perfect, and the line to land exactly where I planned. In other words, I wanted to be in control.
And as any fisherman knows, that’s not how it works. You can’t force nature into submission. You can prepare, you can learn, you can cast — but at the end of the day, you’re at the mercy of something beyond you.
I think that’s why Jesus chose fishermen. We understand dependency. We know what it’s like to wait, to trust, to not be in control. That’s also what it means to follow one King — to lay down the illusion that we can captain our own ship.
The Only King Worth Following
Jesus didn’t come to establish an earthly kingdom with borders and palaces. He came to reclaim hearts that had wandered off in search of their own thrones.
“My Kingdom is not of this world,” Jesus said. — John 18:36 (NLT)
His crown was made of thorns, not gold. His throne was a cross. His power came through humility, and His rule through love. In a world shouting, “No kings!” Jesus quietly whispers, “Follow Me.”
And that’s where it gets uncomfortable. Because following Jesus means giving up the right to rule ourselves. It means surrendering our favorite excuses, our private ambitions, our moral shortcuts, and our insistence that we know best.
It’s not an easy message — but it’s a freeing one.
The Ant and the Steering Wheel
I once heard a story about an ant who decided to drive a car. The ant climbed up to the steering wheel, gripped it tight, and started shouting orders: “Go left! Go right!” The car, of course, didn’t move an inch.
After a while, the ant began to pray. “Lord, give me strength!”
Suddenly, the engine roared to life, the car began to move, and the ant proudly yelled, “Look at me go!”
It’s funny — and painfully familiar. We humans love to believe we’re steering. But maybe we’re more like that little ant: tiny, limited, and invited to trust the One who’s actually in control.
Freedom Under the King
Real freedom isn’t found in rejecting authority — it’s found in submitting to the right one.
When we follow Jesus, we aren’t losing ourselves; we’re finally discovering who we were created to be. The Apostle Paul put it this way:
“For the Lord is the Spirit, and wherever the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” — 2 Corinthians 3:17 (NLT)
Freedom in Christ isn’t anarchy; it’s alignment. It’s not the absence of rules; it’s the presence of grace. It’s not about “no kings” — it’s about one King who knows us, loves us, and leads us toward life.
No Kings… or One Worth Serving?
We can look at the “No Kings” protests and shake our heads, but if we’re honest, there’s a “no kings” protest inside each of us. Every time we say, “I’ll do it my way,” or “I don’t need help,” or “God, I’ve got this,” we’re marching in our own little rebellion.
And yet, even in our defiance, Christ calls us back. He doesn’t demand submission through force — He invites surrender through love.
Maybe that’s the real difference between the world’s kings and Christ. The world’s kings demand power; Jesus lays His down. The world’s kings rule through fear; Jesus rules through forgiveness. The world’s kings come to be served; Jesus came to serve.
A Closing Thought
When we live with “no kings,” life becomes a contest of wills — mine versus yours, truth versus opinion, noise versus noise. But when we live with one King, we find peace in the midst of chaos, purpose in the midst of confusion, and grace in the midst of our imperfections.
So maybe the real question isn’t whether there should be kings at all — but whether the One who already reigns has been given rule over your heart.
“For this reason, God elevated Him to the place of highest honor and gave Him the name above all other names, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow.” — Philippians 2:9–10 (NLT)
So I wonder, where in your life have you been gripping the steering wheel like that little ant — and what might happen if you finally let the true King drive?
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Monthly Archives: October 2025
National Forgiveness Day – Setting the Prisoner Free
Forgiveness: Setting the Prisoner Free (Especially Today)
Today is National Forgiveness Day — a moment set aside, however informally, for us to pause and consider what it means to forgive, how hard it is, and how much freedom it offers. In a world sharply divided — politically, socially, even within our families — forgiveness is often the last thing we want to talk about. But perhaps today is the perfect day.
“To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.”
Lewis B. Smedes
That quote never loses its weight. At first glance, we imagine that forgiveness is for the other person — that we’re doing them a favor. But the deeper truth is that holding grudges, nursing wounds, keeping the ledger of hurts — those chains bind us. Bitterness, resentment, anger — they imprison the soul. And often, the keys to freedom lie within our hands.
The Bible directs us gently — sometimes sternly — toward that freedom. In Ephesians 4:32, Paul instructs:
“Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you.”
Pause on that: forgiving one another just as God through Christ has forgiven you. It’s not a pragmatic suggestion; it’s a spiritual posture. We are invited — actually commanded — to live as people set free.
Why Forgiveness Matters (Especially in Our Time)
It is healing, not forgetting. Sometimes people think that forgiveness means we erase the past or pretend the harm didn’t happen. That’s not Christian forgiveness. True forgiveness is an act of the will: we let go of our bitterness and resentment, but remembering the wrong may remain. We don’t erase memory — we release the charge.
It restores dignity to ourselves. When we extend forgiveness, we reverse the narrative that says, “They control me.” We reclaim our dignity. We say, “I will no longer live in bondage to what happened.”
It offers a witness to a hurting world. In our day, politics is tribal. When the moral temperature rises and every disagreement can feel like a battle, forgiveness is a countercultural act. It says: even when we disagree strongly — even when we feel wounded — we can choose to extend grace.
It frees us to move forward. Grudges quieten our souls into shadows — they whisper that we cannot heal unless the other person changes first. But God’s grace invites us forward now, not later. Forgiveness accelerates our healing.
The Difficulty of Forgiveness
It’s not easy. Sometimes it feels unfair. Sometimes the wound is too deep. We ask: “Why me?” “Why so and so?” That’s valid. Healing is rarely instantaneous. To begin forgiving doesn’t mean erasing all pain immediately — it means starting the journey.
In today’s culture, we see open wounds everywhere: families divided over politics, communities fractured by ideology, people demonizing each other over worldview differences. The temptation is to double down, hone in, dig in. But forgiveness invites us to break the cycle.
Forgiveness doesn’t mean ignoring injustice. It doesn’t mean excusing abuse or saying someone’s behavior was okay. It means refusing to let the perpetrator’s actions permanently steal your peace. It means holding your ground but letting the resentment go.
What Might Forgiveness Look Like in Practice?
• Self-forgiveness. Maybe the hardest part: extend grace to your own mistakes. Recognize that God’s forgiveness toward us is the model, and that we too can release guilt and shame.
• Small steps. You don’t have to start with sweeping gestures. A prayer: “Lord, help me forgive X.” Or a private journal entry.
• Honest conversation (if safe). When trust is possible, initiate a dialogue. Apologize, or offer forgiveness — even if reconciliation isn’t immediate.
• Prayer and surrender. Ask God to carry what you cannot. Sometimes our anger is too thick — and we need divine help to release it.
• Boundaries where necessary. Forgiveness does not always mean you re-enter a relationship the way it was before. Boundaries may protect both you and the other.
A Word for the Divided Times
We live in polarized times: left vs. right, progressive vs. conservative, red state vs. blue state. In churches, neighborhoods, families — politics has crept into our worship, our dinners, our group chats. As a pastor, I see that wounds over belief are real wounds.
On National Forgiveness Day, I don’t mean we abandon convictions or dodge accountability. But I do believe that forgiveness is a bridge — not a surrender. When we forgive across differences, we show the world that holiness is stronger than hostility.
We might say in our hearts: “He (or she) is wrong.” — and theologically, we might believe that. But that does not give us permission to hate. Loving our neighbor deeply sometimes means forgiving them even when we believe they’re in error. It may feel counterintuitive, but that’s the gospel rhythm.
When someone Tweets or says something that wounds — when a post divides — let’s remember: every one of those people is a child of God, loved and wounded. We might not agree, but we can forgive. We might need to disagree later, but we can forgive now.
How we can celebrating National Forgiveness day (and Tomorrow)
• Begin with your own heart. As you read this post, pause and ask: Is there someone I need to forgive — myself or another?
• Write it out. Grab a piece of paper or journal. Begin with the simple words: “I forgive you, for…” or “God, help me forgive…”
• If safe, say it aloud. Speak it in prayer or in a gentle conversation.
• Share the journey. Maybe in your small group or with a trusted friend, share a hurt and how you’re letting go. That vulnerability builds community.
• Repeat. Forgiveness is not a one-and-done event. New offenses, old wounds — things surface. So we ask again: “Lord, help me forgive.”
Why We Need This Today
Because bitterness spreads faster than light. Resentment breeds division, distrust, cynicism. Because wounds left unchecked silence faith. Our spiritual life grows when we are free inside. Because God forgave us while we were still sinners. That’s our model (Romans 5). Because in a world screaming for peace, forgiveness whispers: “You don’t have to stay angry.”
To forgive may feel risky. It may feel like yielding. But the paradox is: when we forgive, we gain strength. We gain freedom. We gain a lighter heart. And we no longer carry the prisoner.
So today — on National Forgiveness Day — let us set a table of grace. Let us begin again. Let us forgive — because when the prisoner is you, that release is worth everything.
Today is National Forgiveness Day — a moment set aside, however informally, for us to pause and consider what it means to forgive, how hard it is, and how much freedom it offers. In a world sharply divided — politically, socially, even within our families — forgiveness is often the last thing we want to talk about. But perhaps today is the perfect day.
“To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.”
Lewis B. Smedes
That quote never loses its weight. At first glance, we imagine that forgiveness is for the other person — that we’re doing them a favor. But the deeper truth is that holding grudges, nursing wounds, keeping the ledger of hurts — those chains bind us. Bitterness, resentment, anger — they imprison the soul. And often, the keys to freedom lie within our hands.
The Bible directs us gently — sometimes sternly — toward that freedom. In Ephesians 4:32, Paul instructs:
“Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you.”
Pause on that: forgiving one another just as God through Christ has forgiven you. It’s not a pragmatic suggestion; it’s a spiritual posture. We are invited — actually commanded — to live as people set free.
Why Forgiveness Matters (Especially in Our Time)
It is healing, not forgetting. Sometimes people think that forgiveness means we erase the past or pretend the harm didn’t happen. That’s not Christian forgiveness. True forgiveness is an act of the will: we let go of our bitterness and resentment, but remembering the wrong may remain. We don’t erase memory — we release the charge.
It restores dignity to ourselves. When we extend forgiveness, we reverse the narrative that says, “They control me.” We reclaim our dignity. We say, “I will no longer live in bondage to what happened.”
It offers a witness to a hurting world. In our day, politics is tribal. When the moral temperature rises and every disagreement can feel like a battle, forgiveness is a countercultural act. It says: even when we disagree strongly — even when we feel wounded — we can choose to extend grace.
It frees us to move forward. Grudges quieten our souls into shadows — they whisper that we cannot heal unless the other person changes first. But God’s grace invites us forward now, not later. Forgiveness accelerates our healing.
The Difficulty of Forgiveness
It’s not easy. Sometimes it feels unfair. Sometimes the wound is too deep. We ask: “Why me?” “Why so and so?” That’s valid. Healing is rarely instantaneous. To begin forgiving doesn’t mean erasing all pain immediately — it means starting the journey.
In today’s culture, we see open wounds everywhere: families divided over politics, communities fractured by ideology, people demonizing each other over worldview differences. The temptation is to double down, hone in, dig in. But forgiveness invites us to break the cycle.
Forgiveness doesn’t mean ignoring injustice. It doesn’t mean excusing abuse or saying someone’s behavior was okay. It means refusing to let the perpetrator’s actions permanently steal your peace. It means holding your ground but letting the resentment go.
What Might Forgiveness Look Like in Practice?
• Self-forgiveness. Maybe the hardest part: extend grace to your own mistakes. Recognize that God’s forgiveness toward us is the model, and that we too can release guilt and shame.
• Small steps. You don’t have to start with sweeping gestures. A prayer: “Lord, help me forgive X.” Or a private journal entry.
• Honest conversation (if safe). When trust is possible, initiate a dialogue. Apologize, or offer forgiveness — even if reconciliation isn’t immediate.
• Prayer and surrender. Ask God to carry what you cannot. Sometimes our anger is too thick — and we need divine help to release it.
• Boundaries where necessary. Forgiveness does not always mean you re-enter a relationship the way it was before. Boundaries may protect both you and the other.
A Word for the Divided Times
We live in polarized times: left vs. right, progressive vs. conservative, red state vs. blue state. In churches, neighborhoods, families — politics has crept into our worship, our dinners, our group chats. As a pastor, I see that wounds over belief are real wounds.
On National Forgiveness Day, I don’t mean we abandon convictions or dodge accountability. But I do believe that forgiveness is a bridge — not a surrender. When we forgive across differences, we show the world that holiness is stronger than hostility.
We might say in our hearts: “He (or she) is wrong.” — and theologically, we might believe that. But that does not give us permission to hate. Loving our neighbor deeply sometimes means forgiving them even when we believe they’re in error. It may feel counterintuitive, but that’s the gospel rhythm.
When someone Tweets or says something that wounds — when a post divides — let’s remember: every one of those people is a child of God, loved and wounded. We might not agree, but we can forgive. We might need to disagree later, but we can forgive now.
How we can celebrating National Forgiveness day (and Tomorrow)
• Begin with your own heart. As you read this post, pause and ask: Is there someone I need to forgive — myself or another?
• Write it out. Grab a piece of paper or journal. Begin with the simple words: “I forgive you, for…” or “God, help me forgive…”
• If safe, say it aloud. Speak it in prayer or in a gentle conversation.
• Share the journey. Maybe in your small group or with a trusted friend, share a hurt and how you’re letting go. That vulnerability builds community.
• Repeat. Forgiveness is not a one-and-done event. New offenses, old wounds — things surface. So we ask again: “Lord, help me forgive.”
Why We Need This Today
Because bitterness spreads faster than light. Resentment breeds division, distrust, cynicism. Because wounds left unchecked silence faith. Our spiritual life grows when we are free inside. Because God forgave us while we were still sinners. That’s our model (Romans 5). Because in a world screaming for peace, forgiveness whispers: “You don’t have to stay angry.”
To forgive may feel risky. It may feel like yielding. But the paradox is: when we forgive, we gain strength. We gain freedom. We gain a lighter heart. And we no longer carry the prisoner.
So today — on National Forgiveness Day — let us set a table of grace. Let us begin again. Let us forgive — because when the prisoner is you, that release is worth everything.