It is a jarring thought. We’ve spent centuries trying to marry the two—putting flags in sanctuaries and cross-emblazoned banners on battlefields. But if you actually sit down and read the historical accounts of the first three centuries of Christianity, a massive, uncomfortable wall appears. The reality is that for the earliest believers, it wasn't just a preference. It was a theological impossibility. You cannot follow Christ and the cruelty of kings because one demands the death of the self for the neighbor, and the other demands the death of the neighbor for the state.
It wasn't just about "being nice." It was about power.
When we talk about the "cruelty of kings" in a historical context, we aren't just talking about a mean guy on a throne. We are talking about the imperium—the absolute right to command, to punish, and to execute. This was the world of the Roman Empire, where the Emperor wasn't just a politician; he was Divi Filius, the Son of God. To say "Jesus is Lord" was, by definition, to say "Caesar is not."
The Collision of Two Kingdoms
The problem starts with the cross itself. Think about it. The cross wasn't a piece of jewelry in the first century. It was a tool of state-sponsored terrorism used by the "kings" of the era to keep the peace through fear. When Jesus said to take up your cross, he was essentially saying to walk toward the very thing the kings used to crush you.
That creates a massive conflict of interest.
History shows us people like Justin Martyr and Tertullian who wrestled with this constantly. Tertullian, writing in his Apology around 197 AD, famously argued that the "camp of light" and the "camp of darkness" could not be joined. He wasn't being dramatic. He was looking at a Roman system built on the Pax Romana—a peace achieved through the tip of a spear.
Why the Cruelty of Kings Was Mandatory
To rule in the ancient world—and frankly, in much of the modern one—a leader has to be willing to be cruel. It’s the Machiavellian trap. If a king is too merciful, the borders collapse. If he's too kind, the tax revenue fails. The "kings" of the earth operate on a logic of scarcity and defense. They build walls. They execute rebels. They demand a level of loyalty that Christ reserved only for the divine.
This is where the phrase you cannot follow Christ and the cruelty of kings takes on its weight. You can't serve two masters who have different definitions of "victory."
For the king, victory is a pile of enemy bodies and a secure border. For Christ, victory is the resurrection following a voluntary execution. You see the problem? These two paths don't just diverge; they head in opposite directions.
I remember reading about the trial of Maximilian of Tebessa in 295 AD. He was a young man brought before a proconsul because he was of age for the Roman army. He didn't just say he didn't want to fight. He said, "I cannot serve because I am a Christian." He was offered the "sign" of the emperor—a lead medallion—and he refused it. He said he already had the sign of Christ. They beheaded him for it. To the Roman state, he was a traitor. To the church, he was a martyr.
The proconsul wasn't necessarily a "bad guy" in his own mind. He was just a servant of the king. He was maintaining the order of the world. But that order was built on cruelty, and Maximilian realized he couldn't have a foot in both worlds.
The Myth of the "Christian King"
Things got messy when Constantine showed up. Suddenly, the "cruelty of kings" had a cross on its shield. This is the era most modern people think of when they think of Christianity, but it’s actually the great deviation.
Historians like Peter Heather point out how the church shifted from a persecuted minority to a state-sponsored power. When that happened, the "cruelty" didn't stop; it just changed targets. Now, the king was "defending the faith," which usually meant killing different types of Christians or burning "pagans."
But does that change the fundamental nature of Christ's teaching? Honestly, no.
If you look at the Sermon on the Mount, there is no "except for when the king says so" clause. Love your enemies. Bless those who curse you. Turn the other cheek. These are not the policies of a functioning state. They are the policies of a kingdom that isn't from here.
The Psychology of Power vs. The Spirit of Sacrifice
Kings need you to believe that your neighbor is a threat. Christ needs you to believe your neighbor is your brother.
We see this play out in the way resources are handled. A king collects. A king hoards. A king builds monuments to his own greatness. In contrast, the early church in Acts 2 and 4 was famous—or infamous—for having "no needy person among them." They didn't do this through a royal decree or a tax code. They did it through a voluntary surrender of property.
The "cruelty of kings" is often most visible in how they treat the vulnerable. In the Roman world, exposure (leaving unwanted infants outside to die) was common and legal. The kings didn't care; it was a matter of household economy. The followers of Christ, however, were known for picking those babies up and raising them.
This was a direct affront to the king's "order." It was a quiet rebellion. It was a statement that the logic of the state—that some lives are disposable for the sake of the whole—was a lie.
Is It Still Relevant Today?
You might think, "Well, we don't have kings anymore." We have systems. We have "interests." We have national security.
The name has changed, but the "cruelty" remains. It’s the systemic willingness to trade human dignity for power, profit, or "the greater good." Whether it's a dictator in a far-off country or the cold, bureaucratic indifference of a modern corporation, the logic remains "King-like."
When you decide that you cannot follow Christ and the cruelty of kings, you are making a choice to opt out of the cycle of retribution. It means you stop looking for a "strongman" to protect your interests. It means you accept that your primary loyalty isn't to a flag or a throne, but to a person who was executed by the state.
Practical Steps for Choosing a Different Path
If you find yourself caught between the demands of modern "kings" and the call of Christ, here is how you start untangling the two:
- Audit Your Loyalties: Look at where your anger goes. If you are more upset about a threat to your "country" than a threat to a person's dignity, your loyalty might be to the king.
- Practice Small Mercies: The cruelty of kings thrives on the "macro." It loves big wars and big policies. Break that by focusing on the "micro." Help one person. Forgive one debt. These are acts of treason against the kingdom of cruelty.
- Read the Subversive Texts: Revisit the writings of the Ante-Nicene fathers (the guys before the church became the state). Read The Didache or the letters of Ignatius of Antioch. They lived in a world where the king was the enemy, and their clarity is refreshing.
- Reject the "Enemy" Narrative: Kings need enemies to stay in power. Christ's followers are called to eliminate the category of "enemy" through love. Try to find the humanity in the person your "king" tells you to hate.
- Invest in Alternative Communities: Don't just go to a building; find a group of people who are trying to live by the upside-down logic of the Gospel. Communities that share resources and protect the weak are the best antidote to the "cruelty of kings."
The tension will never go away. As long as there are people who want to rule, there will be a "cruelty of kings." But there is a different way to be human. It’s a way that doesn't require a throne, just a willingness to follow the one who gave his life away.
