From Tumble to Triumph: The Ascent of the True King of Kings

God was always meant to be the people’s King, but the people nevertheless asked for a king. So God gave them what they asked for—a man named Saul from the left-handed tribe of Benjamin, the first to be anointed king over Israel. But his reign was short-lived, and Israel had to take a mulligan on their request.

Then came a man after God’s own heart—a shepherd boy from the fields, the ruddiest of Jesse’s sons. David was anointed king-in-waiting. And when his time came, he showed great promise. He defeated Israel’s enemies with courage and fervor. His worship was just as fierce—he captured Jerusalem with his mighty men and paraded the ark into the Holy City, dancing and singing in the streets. David rearmed the Levites with stringed instruments instead of swords and introduced song into the worship services of Israel. He seemed to be the ideal king.

Yet, though he was great, his reign ended in ruin. David’s sin with Bathsheba triggered a downward spiral that unraveled the kingdom. His sons followed in his footsteps, constant reminders of the offense he committed. Goliath couldn’t defeat the anointed king—but sin proved to be his greatest enemy and the one he could not overcome.

David’s kingship was stripped from him in a coup by his own son Absalom. Like a magician yanking the tablecloth from beneath a fully set table, Absalom pulled the kingdom out from under his father overnight. David didn’t fight. He retreated. And so the once-mighty king—the psalmist, the worshipper, the giant slayer, the ark-bearer—left the city of God in tears.

Mounted on a donkey, David crossed the Kidron Valley and ascended the Mount of Olives, weeping. His friends tore their garments. His fiercest critic hurled curses and stones. The same king who had once entered Jerusalem in triumph now departed in disgrace. How could this be the end? How could the man, after God’s own heart, finish his reign in retreat, leaving us longing for a better king?

From that moment on, Israel would never be the same. David’s fall set in motion a slow unraveling—a divided kingdom, a broken people. But even in the darkness, a whisper remained—a promise: that one day, a son of David would ascend the throne again—and this time, it would last forever.

Sin—the great enemy of all kings and kingdoms—had taken David down. If there was ever to be a kingdom that astonished the world, whose King no sin could defeat, no coup could unseat, and no enemy could conquer, He would have to be more than a man. He would have to be a King above all kings—a King of Kings.

And then, one day, a child was born in Bethlehem—the City of David.

Just days before Passover, that child now grown—Jesus—approached Jerusalem. He rode on the foal of a donkey, one never before ridden, a firstborn of its kind. He, too, descended the Mount of Olives. But unlike David, Jesus wasn’t fleeing—He was entering. On the very path David had wept and wandered in defeat, Jesus approached in triumph.

Coats weren’t torn in mourning this time—they were laid down in honor. The stones weren’t hurled in hate—they lay silent, held back by the people’s praise.

Jesus was hailed as King—not only by Israelites, but by Gentiles too. “Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the Son of David!” The True King rode in, not away. The ancient longing for a greater King was finally answered.

Though His critics sneered and demanded silence, Jesus kept riding. Though He wept over Jerusalem’s rejection, He did not turn back. His compassion did not lead Him to retreat—but to press forward, all the way to the cross. There, He would be lifted up—not just in suffering, but in enthronement—as King forever.

In Jesus, we don’t just find the Son of David—we find the Son of God. He is both the heir to David’s throne and the fulfillment of God’s original design: that He Himself would be the people’s King.

Jesus is the King of Kings because He is without sin. But more than that—He conquers sin. The very thing that defeated every king before Him, He overcame. And because sin has no claim on Him, it has no claim on those who belong to Him. His Kingdom is eternal, unshakable, unconquerable. He does not retreat. He reigns. Forever.

All who trust in Him will never be disappointed. All who belong to His Kingdom inherit its treasures—peace, joy, righteousness, and eternal life. His gates are open. Jew and Gentile alike are welcomed in. The once divided kingdom is now made of—one people, under one King, forever. In Christ, God and man are reconciled.

So choose this day whom you will serve. Where is your citizenship? Will you serve a dying kingdom—or a Deliverer who gives eternal life? Is your head bowed in defeat and shame? Then, let Christ the King lift it. Have you crowned someone or even yourself as king of your life? Hear this: every self-made king meets the same end as David. Only one King reigns forever.

Are you left wanting by the world’s empty promises? Then, cling to Christ. Be satisfied in His Kingdom, for in Him, hope is fulfilled.

And one more thing—don’t overlook the donkey.

That foal, the firstborn of a donkey Jesus rode, wasn’t just a symbol of peace. It was a sign of redemption.

After God delivered Israel from Egypt, He commanded that every firstborn male—man or beast—be set apart for Him. But there was one exception: the donkey. It was unclean. To redeem it, a lamb had to be sacrificed in its place. If no lamb were offered, the donkey’s neck would be broken (Exodus 13:13).

So when Jesus, the Lamb of God, rides on a firstborn donkey, never before ridden, He declares something profound: the unclean can be redeemed. He is the Lamb offered in our place. We—like that donkey—are the unclean ones. And by His sacrifice, we are spared, made clean, and set apart for the service of the King.

So lift up your heads. Your King has come. And His Kingdom will never end.