Easter may have passed two days ago, but the image of the crown of thorns is still lingering in my thoughts. That painful, twisted crown placed on Jesus’ head by Roman soldiers was meant as mockery. But on this side of the resurrection, we see it for what it really was—ironic glory. A crown that tells the truth louder than the laughter of those who placed it.
This post was inspired by a conversation I had with my friend Jeff Thompson. He shared an intriguing thought: that the crown of thorns may draw on an older Jewish image—specifically, Jotham’s parable in Judges 9—and that perhaps, from that time forward, thorns came to symbolize a usurper in the Jewish imagination. While I’ve not found historical sources confirming that the crown of thorns was widely understood in this way, there’s no question that Jotham’s parable was well known among the Jews. It’s entirely possible that some, when they saw Jesus wearing that crown, may have made the connection.
Matthew tells us:
“And twisting together a crown of thorns, they put it on his head and put a reed in his right hand. And kneeling before him, they mocked him, saying, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’” (Matthew 27:29 ESV).
The whole thing was a spectacle. A purple robe, a fake scepter, sarcastic bows. They were mocking the idea that this man could ever be a king. The crown of thorns was a symbol of everything they thought He wasn’t.
But here’s something I’ve been reflecting on—especially in light of that old parable tucked away in Judges 9.
After Gideon died, his son Abimelech wanted to be king. But instead of being chosen or appointed by God, he murdered his seventy brothers and had himself crowned by the people of Shechem. One brother escaped—Jotham. And from a mountaintop, he told a parable:
“The trees once went out to anoint a king over them, and they said to the olive tree, ‘Reign over us.’
But the olive tree said to them, ‘Shall I leave my abundance, by which gods and men are honored, and go hold sway over the trees?’
And the trees said to the fig tree, ‘You come and reign over us.’
But the fig tree said to them, ‘Shall I leave my sweetness and my good fruit and go hold sway over the trees?’
And the trees said to the vine, ‘You come and reign over us.’
But the vine said to them, ‘Shall I leave my wine that cheers God and men and go hold sway over the trees?’
Then all the trees said to the bramble, ‘You come and reign over us.’
And the bramble said to the trees, ‘If in good faith you are anointing me king over you, then come and take refuge in my shade;
but if not, let fire come out of the bramble and devour the cedars of Lebanon.’” (Judges 9:8–15 ESV).
It’s a parable about what happens when people crown the wrong king. The bramble has no fruit, no shade, no honor—but it gladly accepts power. And it threatens to destroy those who don’t fall in line. Jotham used that story to warn that Abimelech was a destructive fraud—and he was right.
Could the Romans have been drawing on that imagery when they crowned Jesus with thorns? It’s impossible to say. But it’s not hard to imagine that the Jewish crowd, well-versed in their Scriptures, would have recognized the parallel—and possibly whispered among themselves about a bramble being crowned.
And that’s the great irony, isn’t it?
Because Jesus was not the bramble. He is the true olive tree, the fig tree, the vine—the one who brings abundance, sweetness, and joy. He didn’t seize power by force or manipulation; He came in humility, rejected by the world but crowned by heaven.
The thorns they used to mock Him became the very crown that fulfilled prophecy. Thorns, the symbol of the curse (Genesis 3:18), were worn by the one who came to remove it. They crowned Him with a curse—but He bore it willingly for us.
And now, on this side of the resurrection, we see the crown of thorns for what it really is: not a mark of shame, but a sign of substitution. Not a joke, but a judgment placed on the only innocent one. Not mock royalty, but majesty misunderstood.
They thought they were mocking a fake king.
But they were crowning the King of kings.
And today, we do not mock—we bow.
Have you read your Bible today?
Have you prayed to God today?
Have you helped someone today?
Our Christian walk is just that- it’s a walk. It’s living kingdom principles.
It’s not just knowing the right things,
teaching the right things,
studying the right things.
What are we doing today to show the people of the world that we are citizens of Jesus’ Kingdom?
I am in the book of Acts in my daily Bible reading. In chapter one, we read about Matthias being chosen to replace Judas as one of the twelve apostles.
“And they put forward two, Joseph called Barsabbas, who was also called Justus, and Matthias.
And they prayed and said, ‘You, Lord, who know the hearts of all, show which one of these two you have chosen
to take the place in this ministry and apostleship from which Judas turned aside to go to his own place.’
And they cast lots for them, and the lot fell on Matthias, and he was numbered with the eleven apostles.” (Acts 1:23-26 ESV).
“And he was numbered with the eleven apostles.” This simple statement speaks volumes—more than we sometimes want to hear. From our human perspective, we often associate apostleship with greatness, power, and authority. But Jesus taught something very different. He said that in His kingdom, greatness comes through humble service. Those who want to be first must willingly become last. Those who seek authority must become servants.
When Peter explained what was needed in Judas’ replacement, he described it this way:
“So one of the men who have accompanied us during all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us,
beginning from the baptism of John until the day when he was taken up from us—one of these men must become with us a witness to his resurrection.” (Acts 1:21-22 ESV).
Matthias had walked with Jesus. He would have heard Jesus teach about being a servant, about laying down one’s life, and about counting the true cost of following Him. Yes, Matthias would be filled with the Holy Spirit and accomplish mighty things in Jesus’ name—but tradition suggests his journey was likely marked by sacrifice, persecution, and poverty. He may have even faced martyrdom, possibly being stoned by the Jews in Jerusalem or beheaded. While we cannot be certain of his exact fate, we do know Matthias embraced his role knowing the cost would be great.
It’s easy to fall into the trap of believing that becoming a servant of Jesus guarantees worldly success, prosperity, and honor. But Jesus calls us to count the cost of discipleship because true greatness in His kingdom often means humility and suffering in this life.
Matthias glorified Jesus by stepping into Judas’ vacant role—not to receive personal glory, but to honor his King. His life reminds us of an important truth: our greatest rewards aren’t promised in this life. Instead, our treasures, riches, and positions of authority await us in the age to come.
What about us today? Are we following Jesus so that we can lay down our lives for Him, or are we still chasing after the kind of worldly power and recognition that Jesus taught against?
Let’s look through Matthias’ eyes as he willingly took up the mantle of apostleship, accepting a life that brought glory to King Jesus rather than to himself. May we also choose humility over worldly glory today, trusting that when we glorify our King, He will glorify us in His perfect time.
I am in the book of Acts in my daily Bible reading. One thing that strikes me as I read is just how simple the Gospel message was. The apostles and disciples who carried it to the ends of the earth didn’t complicate it. They told people about Jesus—who He is, what He did, and why it matters.
They declared that He is Lord and King, Savior and God. They spoke of the One who laid down His life for us, then rose from the grave in victory, ascended to heaven, and took His place at the right hand of God.
That same message—the one that turned the world upside down in the first century—is the very same message we speak today.
But here’s where it gets exciting. Unlike our brothers and sisters back then, we live in a time where the entire Word of God is available to us in written form. The name of Jesus is known in every nation. Even His enemies recognize His name.
What a time to be alive! We get to continue the mission they started. And we have tools they never could have imagined. With a translation app, we can speak to someone in a different language. With a video call, we can talk face-to-face with someone across the world. With a simple post or email, we can share the Gospel instantly.
They had miracles to confirm the Word. We have the confirmed Word, and the technology to send it anywhere—almost faster than we can think.
And yet… how often do we take these incredible tools and use them only for our own amusement? How often do we set aside the mission so we can chase after comfort, letting the message of Jesus sit quietly while we scroll, stream, and consume?
We’ve been given so much. Are we using these blessings to proclaim the name of Jesus? To declare His kingship, His salvation, and His kingdom to a world that’s desperate for hope?
“And I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?’ Then I said, ‘Here I am! Send me.’” (Isaiah 6:8 ESV).
Jesus, Who commanded light to come into existence and commanded souls to return to their bodies, stood in silence when the High Priest and Pilate questioned Him before His execution. It is unimaginable that the One who could speak the universe into existence by His word chose to remain silent when His word could have put a stop to the greatest injustice of all time.
I am in the book of Acts in my daily Bible reading. In chapter 20, Paul is making his way to Jerusalem, stopping at Miletus to call for the elders of the church in Ephesus. His journey wasn’t an easy one. Along the way, he kept hearing the same warning: trouble was waiting for him.
“And now, behold, I am going to Jerusalem, constrained by the Spirit, not knowing what will happen to me there,
except that the Holy Spirit testifies to me in every city that imprisonment and afflictions await me.” (Acts 20:22-23 ESV).
Most of us would have taken that as a sign to turn back. Even Paul’s Christian brothers begged him to change his course. But Paul pressed on, walking straight into what he knew would be hardship and suffering.
Why would he do that? What could possibly cause a man to willingly walk into the lion’s den?
He tells us in the very next verse:
“But I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God.” (Acts 20:24 ESV).
Paul’s life wasn’t about protecting his comfort or preserving his days. It was about finishing the work Jesus had given him to do. That was the only thing that mattered.
It makes us stop and ask ourselves a hard but necessary question: when we face a crossroads, when we have to choose between comfort and Christ, what wins?
Are we willing to lose, if losing means gaining Christ?
Are we willing to be misunderstood, mocked, or mistreated if it means we bring glory to the name of Jesus?
Paul’s visit to Miletus wasn’t a casual farewell. It was the parting words of a man who knew his life had one goal: to finish well for his King. He wasn’t living for the reward of the moment. He was living for the reward to come.
Today, may we be reminded that our life is not our own. We have a course to run, a ministry to complete, a Savior to glorify.
Let’s not hold our lives too tightly. Let’s finish the race, no matter the cost. Jesus is worth it.
I am in the book of Acts in my daily Bible reading. In chapter 21, Paul recounts his vision of King Jesus. Many refer to this as his conversion account, but it wasn’t.
“And I said, ‘What shall I do, Lord?’ And the Lord said to me, ‘Rise, and go into Damascus, and there you will be told all that is appointed for you to do.’” (Acts 22:10 ESV).
Paul realized who the voice belonged to, because Jesus told him. But notice what Jesus did next. Instead of laying out everything right there on the road, He sent Paul into Damascus to hear the message from someone else.
It was when Ananias came to him that Paul heard the Gospel in full. It was then that he arose and was baptized, giving his full allegiance to Jesus as the Messiah and King of the Jews.
When we get to chapter 26, we learn that Jesus had told Paul about the mission ahead—how much he would suffer and what he would accomplish—but the immediate answer to, “What shall I do, Lord?” was reserved for Ananias to deliver.
Even when Jesus Himself spoke directly to Paul, He still chose to use another human to teach the Gospel. Isn’t that amazing? Even with all the authority of heaven, Jesus still shows how much value He places on faithful people sharing His message.
It reminds us just how important our role is in the Kingdom of Jesus. When we share the Gospel, we are taking part in the very work that Jesus trusted to His followers—even when He could have spoken directly.
It is humbling to think about. It is encouraging to realize. And it is motivating to act upon.
Paul’s journey to full allegiance began because a faithful servant named Ananias showed up and fulfilled his calling.
May we be ready to step forward and answer that same call when someone near us is asking, “What shall I do, Lord?”