The Lion of the Tribe of Judah
Part of our Christmas series, “And He Shall Be Called”
Is it too early for Christmas? At Tulip Street, we’ve decided it isn’t. This year we’re walking through Isaiah’s famous words, “and he shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace,” and looking at the many names and titles of Jesus. Even “Christ” is a title, not a last name.
Why does this matter at Christmas? Because it keeps us from shrinking Jesus down to a sweet little baby in a manger, the way Ricky Bobby prays to his “baby Jesus” in Talladega Nights. Jesus is so much more. From Genesis to Revelation, Christ is on every page of Scripture.
This week’s title takes us from a deathbed blessing in Genesis to a throne room in Revelation: the Lion of the Tribe of Judah.
A Blessing That Starts Badly
In Genesis 49, old Jacob gathers his twelve grown sons around him, and these are some of the last words they’ll ever hear from him. Think of it as a truth-telling session. "Here’s what I see in you, and here’s who you really are."
It doesn’t start well.
Reuben, the firstborn, the one you’d expect to lead, is told he is “turbulent as water” and will not excel. He’s unstable and impulsive. Simeon and Levi are next, and their anger and violence earn them a scattering instead of a crown.
Then Jacob gets to Judah, the fourth son, and everything changes. “Judah is a young lion,” he says. His brothers will praise him, his father’s sons will bow down to him, and then comes the big promise: the scepter will not depart from Judah until he whose right it is comes, and the obedience of all the peoples belongs to him.
That phrase “he whose right it is” translates a Hebrew word, Shiloh. It points to the one who is worthy, the chosen one, the one who brings peace. Some later Jewish translators even rendered it as Messiah, the anointed one.
So right there in Genesis 49 we already have a stack of titles tied together: Lion, King, Messiah. And notice the scope. The obedience of all the peoples belongs to him. This isn’t just a family matter or an Israel matter. It’s global.
The Kings Who Couldn’t
So who will be this king? Israel’s story tries out some candidates.
First comes Saul, who stood head and shoulders above everyone else and looked every inch the part. He also came from the tribe of Benjamin, so he was never going to be the one. His early success went to his head, and he started doing things his own way instead of God’s.
Then Samuel visits Jesse’s house looking for the next king. He sees the oldest son and thinks, surely this is the guy. God says no. Just like in Jacob’s blessing, the firstborn isn’t the answer. They go down the line until someone remembers the youngest, out in the fields with the sheep. David is the one nobody expected, and God says he looks at the heart, not the outward appearance.
In 2 Samuel 7, God makes David a staggering promise: a descendant whose kingdom will be established forever. It sounds like God confirming Jacob’s old blessing on Judah. So we can add another title to our list: Son of David.
But David failed, badly. Solomon, for all his wisdom, was led away from God. Even Hezekiah, about as good as the later kings got, had his fall. The failure of every earthly king proves something: our only hope is a divine king. God is going to take matters into his own hands.
A King Who Wins by Dying
Then Isaiah introduces a figure called the Servant of the Lord. In Isaiah 42, God says he has put his Spirit on this servant, who will bring justice to the nations. But he won’t shout in the streets, he won’t break a bruised reed, and he won’t snuff out a smoldering wick. This is justice through a combination of strength and tenderness. It's an underdog story featuring human weakness to amplify the power of God.
That’s how God has always worked. Think of Gideon, who started with over thirty thousand soldiers and was told that wasn’t a good enough story. God whittled him down to 300 so everyone would know the victory came from God, not from human strength. God consistently uses the underdog to show what real power looks like.
In Isaiah 49, the servant’s mission grows even bigger. It isn’t enough to restore the tribes of Israel. He will be a light to the nations, salvation to the ends of the earth. (Sound familiar? Remember the obedience of all the peoples.)
Then comes Isaiah 52 and 53, where the servant is pierced for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities, led like a lamb to the slaughter. He is put to death as a rebel and a nobody, and all of it is according to God’s will.
This was foreign to the people of Jesus’ day. They assumed the Servant must be someone different from the Messiah, the Son of David, the Lion of Judah. God says no. They are one and the same person. The king and the suffering servant are the same man, and he wins by laying down his life.
Not Another Dude on a Horse
Pastor and author Brian Zahnd tells about backpacking through Portugal with his wife and noticing, yet again, a statue of some guy on a horse. Have you noticed that? Go to any capital city, from Washington to Rome to Paris, and there’s always some dude on a horse. The horse stands for conquering, victory in battle, and rule by the sword.
On Palm Sunday, there was no dude on a horse. There was a dude on a donkey.
Zechariah had said it would happen: “Your king is coming to you, righteous and victorious, humble and riding on a donkey.” He would cut off the chariot and the war horse, break the bow, and proclaim peace to the nations. Nobody is putting up a statue of that king in the middle of town. He doesn’t look like Saul. He doesn’t look like Reuben or David’s tall older brothers.
When Jesus stood before Pilate, he said it plainly: “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight.” Pilate shrugged and asked, “What is truth?” For Rome, truth was whatever Caesar said it was, and history was written by the victors. Jesus’ kingdom looks entirely different.
Who Is Worthy?
Here’s the question the whole Bible seems to be asking: who is worthy? Who can take the scepter, wear the crown, and sit on the throne?
In Revelation 5, John is given a vision of heaven’s throne room. There’s a sealed scroll, and an angel asks, “Who is worthy to open the scroll?” No one in heaven, on earth, or under the earth can. Not the most powerful, not the wealthiest, not the smartest. John weeps.
Then an elder says, “Don’t weep. Look, the Lion from the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered!”
There he is, the one Jacob saw thousands of years earlier. So John turns around to see the lion, and what does he see?
A lamb. A lamb that looks like it has been slaughtered.
The Lion of Judah is the Lamb who was slain. The Lion, the King, the Messiah, the Son of David, and the Suffering Servant are all one person, and there is only one person in all of history who fits that description. Jesus rules by giving his life, not by taking others’.
The Rider on the White Horse
Okay, there is a guy on a horse after all. In Revelation 19, heaven opens and a rider on a white horse appears, called Faithful and True. On his robe and thigh is written “King of kings and Lord of lords.”
But look at his robe. It’s dipped in blood, and it isn’t the blood of his enemies. It’s his own, shed on behalf of his enemies. Remember Jacob’s strange line about Judah washing his robes in wine? When Jesus took the cup at the Last Supper and said, “This is my blood,” the picture came into focus.
Good, But Not Safe
C.S. Lewis understood this tension in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. When the children learn that Aslan is a lion, Susan wonders if he’s safe. Mr. Beaver says, of course he isn’t safe, but he’s good. He’s the king.
As we head toward Christmas and picture a little baby in a manger, it’s easy to make Jesus feel cozy and safe. And yes, he’s right there with us. But don’t get so comfortable that you forget who you’re talking about. He is the Lion of the tribe of Judah, and he’s conquered everything, including death itself.
What This Means for Us
Hebrews 2 says Jesus shared in flesh and blood so that through his death he might destroy the one who holds the power of death and free those who lived in slavery to the fear of it. When you follow the Lion, you don’t need to be afraid of anything.
And because the Lion conquered by laying down his life, we follow him the same way. Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 10 that we don’t wage war according to the flesh. We demolish strongholds and take every thought captive, not with the edge of a sword, but by laying down our lives, loving our neighbors, and loving one another as Christ loved us.
We fight the way the Lion fights.
Next week, we’ll look at Jesus as the Word of God. Join us as we keep walking toward Christmas.
Think About It
1. Jacob’s blessings were part blessing, part truth-telling. Reuben was called unstable, Simeon and Levi were called violent, and Judah was named a leader. Why do you think Jacob’s honest assessments mattered so much to the future of Israel? What might it look like for someone to speak that kind of honest, hopeful truth into your life, and what would you need to hear?
2. Samuel overlooked David because he looked at outward appearances (1 Samuel 16). Saul, Reuben, and Jesse’s oldest son all looked the part, yet God kept choosing the unexpected one. Where do you see yourself or our culture still equating strength, status, or a good resume with worthiness? How does Gideon’s army of 300 challenge that thinking?
3. Even the good kings failed, including David, Solomon, and Hezekiah. The sermon argued that their failures prove our need for a divine king. How does it change the way you view the disappointments you’ve experienced with leaders, institutions, or even yourself? In what ways are we tempted to look for a savior in places that can’t deliver?
4. The Jews of Jesus’ day struggled to accept that the Messiah would suffer and die (Isaiah 52-53). They expected a conquering king, not a servant who wins by dying. What expectations of Jesus do we bring that might be shaped more by our desire for power or comfort than by Scripture? How does the donkey on Palm Sunday, rather than a war horse, reshape our picture of what Jesus’ kingdom looks like?
5. In Revelation 5, John hears “Lion” and turns to see a slain Lamb. The sermon said we follow the Lion by fighting the way he fights, through laying down our lives and loving our neighbors (2 Corinthians 10:3-5). What would it look like in your home, workplace, or community to “conquer” this way? And in light of Mr. Beaver’s line that Aslan isn’t safe but he’s good, how do we keep the Christmas story comforting without making Jesus too tame?
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