By Ashlie Miller
Looking at my social media scroll this week, I wouldn’t have thought there would be so much talk about monarchy – kings or no kings, and crowns. Though no king or queen rules us, the idea of monarchy still captivates the thoughts of many – just ask any American anglophile the latest about the British monarchy.
It is a tale as old as time, almost quite literally. In the Old Testament, we see a chosen people led by a theocracy – by God alone. God sets His people apart, but they don’t like that. They want to be ruled by an earthly king. Though warned of the oppression it would bring upon the people, God allowed the prophet Samuel to make a king for them. Saul proved to be a miserable king. David, the man after God’s own heart, was imperfect – failing morally, as a parent, and as a leader. His son, Solomon, though credited as the wisest man to live, was only halfway committed to the ways of God. As promised, oppression and disaster ensued for the people of Israel. An earthly king may have been what they wanted, but it isn’t what they needed.
If we are all honest, we all do want a king. We daily crown or dethrone people on social media. We either long for the Eternal King to make things right or fight to put ourselves on the throne of our hearts, ruling oftentimes defiantly against the order He established during Creation. One way or another, the fight for a monarchy is our life’s pursuit.
Then, there is the pursuit of the crown itself. I am sure time (and a gripping Hollywood script) will tell us more about the Louvre heist of the crown jewels and how on earth they dropped the crown, but what a picture for how temporal even the greatest riches are. The race is on to recover the jewels before they are cut into smaller, less valuable pieces.
Christ encourages us to lay up treasures that moth and rust can’t destroy, nor thieves can rob and steal (Matthew 6:19). Even if we guard our earthly treasures, we can’t take them with us (too late to ask the French queens) or ensure their protection after we are departed. The only lasting treasures are eternal endeavors, and a crown awaits the saints. How do we measure the value and permanence of such treasures?
What crowns are we chasing today? Sure, it may be superficial success, fleeting fame or influence, or a facade of eternal beauty and youth. Or it may be something more practical, like security, safety, control, and certainty.
After my husband and I visited the Louvre in Paris, I read about the Mona Lisa and its fame. Before it was stolen in 1911, many would not have even been able to describe or pick out the Mona Lisa. More people visited the empty wall where the Mona Lisa once hung than came to see it in the years before. I remember seeing the French Crown Jewels in the Galarie d’Apollon with a smaller crowd than those getting selfies with Mona Lisa. I wonder, once the gallery reopens, how many will flock to see what is no longer there—fleeting riches.
Will our hearts be empty cases of perishable riches or filled with treasure yet to be fully known? Who will wear the crown on the throne of our hearts? We get to decide.
