Today, I am walking in the midday heat of San Diego.  Since my only other visit was three decades ago, everything seems like a discovery.  And as I wander, it dawns on me what I am most want to see – and what I judge any downtown by – are these elegant structures from another age.

Listen, shiny contemporary skyscrapers are impressive, particularly if they reflect and distort their nearest neighbors.  But they lack the character of their grand predecessors.

But just being old isn’t enough.  Admittedly, there is a particular charm to the shabby and antiquated, particularly if they lend themselves to a gritty black and white photo.  But the melancholy air of former glory lingers about them.

And not to split too fine a point, ornate seems to just miss the mark. Such buildings feel like elderly aunts with their parlors filled with fussy trinkets.

No, give me the old and majestic buildings.  Splendid.  Almost royal.

We Americans are not accustomed to royal things.  So, when I picture Jesus, he is the itinerant preacher, walking simple robes in the dust of ancient Palestine.  As an illustrator, I am disappointed that the gospel writers give us nothing of a description of him.  (The earliest depictions of him show him clean-shaven, by the way.)

Interestingly, the most detailed descriptions of Jesus are ones that challenge our imaginations just as they seem to have stretched the writers’ metaphoric muscles:

“…and in the midst of the lampstands (was) one like a son of man, clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash around his chest. The hairs of his head were white, like white wool, like snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire, his feet were like burnished bronze, refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the roar of many waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, from his mouth came a sharp two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining in full strength.

When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand on me, saying, “Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades.”   (Revelation 1:13–19)

Doesn’t get older and more majestic than that.  Though, ageless and glorious would be more apt identifiers.  He is the victorious king who now holds the keys to Death and Hell – keys to their prison cells, perhaps?  This royal vision of our Lord is just as important for us to hold in our vision as his earthly form.  The marvelous hymn to Jesus’ humility in Philippians 2 shows more than just his descent to human form.  It returns him to his sovereign throne.

So, now I have a new link to Jesus.  Whenever I see these imposing and stately buildings, I will let them remind me of our victorious king.

Maybe that was what subconsciously drew me to them in the first place.

All hail to Thee, Immanuel,
The ransomed hosts surround Thee;
And earthly monarchs clamor forth
Their Sov'reign King to crown Thee.
While those redeemed in ages gone,
Assembled 'round the great white throne,
Break forth into immortal song:
All hail! All hail!
All hail! All hail! Immanuel!

Reader – What helps you to picture Jesus as the glorious king?

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