No King, But King Jesus: A Revolutionary Slogan for Purpose, Allegiance, and Freedom
A lot of life gets steered by short phrases—slogans we repeat without thinking, until we realize they’ve been thinking forus. In this episode of GodNAmerica, I started with a modern motto—“Freedom 55”—and contrasted it with the Apostle Paul’s words: “For to me to live is Christ and to die is gain.” From there, I came back to a Revolutionary-era rallying cry that still cuts through the noise today: “No king, but King Jesus.”
That phrase isn’t just a clever piece of American history. It’s a statement about ultimate allegiance—and it forces a simple question beneath all the complicated ones: Who gets to be king over your conscience?
Slogans don’t stay on posters—they shape priorities
I mentioned “Freedom 55” because it’s a clear example of how a slogan can take over a person’s entire mental map. It sets a finish line: work hard, reach a number, then finally be “free.”
But even in the best-case scenario, that kind of freedom can feel thin. A surprising number of people don’t hit the goal at all. And even those who do sometimes find that retirement—if it becomes the main purpose—can drift into boredom or a nagging sense of “Is this all there is?”
That’s not a rant against rest or retirement. It’s a reminder that a slogan is more than motivation—it becomes a measurement system. It defines what “winning” is. And if “winning” is only relief from work, meaning often gets postponed until later… and later can arrive with an emptiness nobody planned for.
A better motto: “To live is Christ”
That’s why I pointed to Paul’s words: “For to me to live is Christ and to die is gain.” That isn’t a sentimental saying—it’s a worldview in one sentence.
It flips the center of gravity:
Life isn’t mainly defined by a timeline (retire early, escape responsibility, coast).
Life is defined by relationship, devotion, and obedience to Christ.
Even death is framed as “gain,” which means fear doesn’t get to sit on the throne.
Before I ever talk about kings, tyranny, or liberty, this has to be settled: purpose comes before comfort. When Christ is the reason for living, a person doesn’t have to wait for a “better season” to start living with meaning.
“No king, but King Jesus” isn’t a political stunt—it’s a spiritual line in the sand
When I said the phrase “No king, but King Jesus” echoed through sermons, letters, and everyday colonial life, I meant it as a reminder that the American founding era wasn’t driven only by muskets and cannons. In many places, it was shaped by pulpits and prayer meetings.
In that framing, when colonists refused to bow to King George, they weren’t simply rejecting a monarch. They were asserting that earthly rulers do not have ultimate authority. God does.
That’s why Acts 5:29 matters here: we must obey God rather than men. That is not a call to lawlessness. It’s a statement about order—a hierarchy of authority.
Government can have real authority in limited areas. But it does not have final authority over conscience, worship, and truth. A free people cannot give total allegiance to any human power, because that kind of allegiance belongs to God alone.
The real revolution begins in convictions—and freedom still has a cost
I referenced John Adams’ idea that the “actual revolution” happened first in the minds and hearts of the people—along with shifts in religious sentiment and in how people understood duty and obligation. Whether a person agrees with every historical emphasis or not, the principle stands: public outcomes follow private loyalties.
Cultures don’t drift into freedom by accident, and they don’t lose it by accident either. What people will not bow to—and what they will—determines more than they realize.
That’s also why I emphasized that the patriots didn’t see themselves as chasing rebellion for rebellion’s sake. In the way I described it, they paired liberty language with moral language: virtue, providence, sacrifice. I also mentioned a line attributed to “James Adams” in a letter to Abigail about future generations not understanding what it cost to preserve freedom. The point wasn’t nostalgia. It was this: freedom is preserved by sacrifice, not by slogans.
And that matters right now, because I also said something blunt in the episode: “Our world is again filled with people who demand allegiance.” Not kings this time, but ideologies, movements, and leaders who promise peace while silencing truth.
That pressure often comes wrapped in attractive words—safety, progress, compassion, tolerance—sometimes even a “social gospel” framing. But labels don’t change reality. When a system demands your silence in exchange for peace, it is asking to be king over your conscience.
That’s why I anchored the whole thing where it belongs: Christ over everything else. Philippians 2 speaks of Jesus being exalted with a name above every name, and of every knee bowing. If Jesus is King, then every other loyalty becomes secondary. And 2 Corinthians 3:17 connects that allegiance to real freedom: where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.
This is where the episode lands: hope is not found in politics or personalities, but in the One who reigns above all.
Practical ways to live “No king, but King Jesus” without turning it into a cliché
Name the slogan you’re living by right now. If it’s comfort, security, approval, or control, admit it plainly.
Identify one area where you feel pressure to comply against conscience. Get specific—work, school, family, online speech, church life.
Practice “truth and love” together. Not truth without love, and not love without truth.
Limit fear-fueled inputs. If something constantly produces panic, it’s shaping allegiance through anxiety.
Return to the passages I referenced (Acts 5:29; Philippians 2:9–10; 2 Corinthians 3:17) and read them slowly, like they’re meant to govern real life.
Treat freedom as responsibility, not entitlement. Decide what “cost” you’re willing to pay to stay faithful.
Keep hope anchored higher than headlines. When hope sits on Christ, the news can inform you without owning you.
If this message does anything, I hope it does this: it makes allegiance clear again. Because when allegiance is clear, courage usually follows.