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Service Sheet Outline & Questions

Reverence for the King (Matthew 21:1-17)

The Kingdom's Values (Matthew 19-23)

Jesus arrives as King, judging empty religion and restoring right worship.

1. Reverence receives the king on his terms (vv1-11)
Jesus deliberately presents himself as God's promised King, gentle yet fully authoritative, calling us not merely to admire him, but to receive him as he truly is.

2. Reverence lets the king judge empty worship (vv12-13)
Jesus exposes religious activity that has become hollow, showing that God's house is meant for real prayer, real approach to God, and real welcome, not religious cover or insider religion.

3. Reverence rejoices in the worship the king restores (vv14-16)
Jesus welcomes the needy, receives true praise, and restores sinners to the kind of worship God always intended, while exposing the blindness of proud religious hearts.

Questions to think about...

1. In Matthew 21:1-11, how does Matthew show us that Jesus is the promised King? Where might you be tempted to welcome a "manageable" version of Jesus rather than receive him on his own terms?

2. In verses 12-13, what does Jesus expose about worship that looks active but has become hollow? How does this passage call us to repentance, prayer, and renewed dependence on God?

3. In verses 14-16, what does Jesus' welcome of the blind and lame, and his acceptance of the children's praise, show us about his kingdom? How can we help make church a place where needy people come near to Christ?

4. Across Matthew 19-21, what assumptions has Jesus overturned about status, greatness, grace, righteousness, and worship? How is he calling you to trust and obey him more fully?

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Reverence for the King

Matthew 21:1-17 | Richmond Church | 5 July 2026

Introduction

Many people are happy to welcome Jesus, so long as they can still decide what sort of king he is.

We do not mind a Jesus who comforts, helps, steadies, and inspires. We are much less comfortable with a Jesus who comes with the right to define us, correct us, and reorder what we have made normal. It is like welcoming a guest until you realise he has come as the rightful owner.

That is where Matthew 21 takes us. Jesus finally reaches Jerusalem. The question now is not only, “What kind of kingdom does he teach?” but, “What kind of king is he?” The entry matters because it leads to the temple.

Jesus arrives as King, judging empty religion and restoring right worship.

So the issue this morning is not whether Jesus can attract a crowd. The issue is whether we will receive him on his terms.

Reverence receives the king on his terms (1-11)

Before Matthew shows us the crowd, he wants us to see that Jesus is in control from the outset.

Jesus does not drift into Jerusalem. He comes on purpose. He sends the disciples, tells them what they will find, and tells them what to say. He is not being swept along by events.

So why the donkey? Why make the arrival this public?

Matthew is showing us how to read the event. And this is where the little footnote in your Bible helps us.

When verse 5 points us to Zechariah 9:9, that footnote is not decoration. It is explanation. It is like a hyperlink on a screen. You follow it, and it takes you to the part of Scripture that explains what is happening.

Jesus is publicly presenting himself as the promised king Zechariah spoke of.

Jesus is the promised king, but not the kind of king people naturally expect. He does not ride a warhorse or come with swagger. He comes gentle, humble, and yet with full authority. Gentle does not mean weak.

So reverence begins here. It means letting Jesus define himself, not us defining him. We like a Jesus who will fit into our plans, comfort us without confronting us, and save us from pain but not rule our lives.

Now the crowd responds. Cloaks on the road. Branches on the road. Psalm language on their lips. “Hosanna to the Son of David.” This is royal, messianic language from the footnote again in Psalm 118.

And again, the footnote helps us. “Hosanna” means “save us”. It had become a shout of praise, but it still carries that cry for rescue.

So the crowd is not saying nothing. They sense that salvation is bound up with this king.

But keep reading.

Here is the crack in the moment. The whole city is stirred. Shaken. Not all bowing gladly.

And the answer they give is true, but not full enough. He is a prophet, but not only a prophet. He is the promised king, the Son of David, the one Zechariah spoke about, the one Psalm 118 reaches toward.

The crowd says better things than it fully understands. It is one thing to cheer a public figure in a parade. It is another thing to realise he has come with rightful authority over your house, your habits, and your future.

That is a warning for us. It is possible to say true things about Jesus and still not really receive him for who he is.

So here is the question. Do I welcome the real Christ, or only a manageable version of him? Do I receive him as king, or only admire him as useful?

Reverence is more than enthusiasm. Reverence receives the king on his terms. And those terms are not cruel. The one who has the right to rule is also the one who comes humbly and with saving authority.

So if there is some corner of your life where Jesus is still welcome only as helper, but not as king, let this first movement press there. Do not ask what kind of Jesus would suit you. Ask what this text says is true of him. Repent of the false story that Jesus exists to help your plans while leaving your rule untouched, and do not settle for enthusiasm without glad submission.

Reverence lets the king judge empty worship (12-13)

Jesus enters Jerusalem, and where does he go? Straight to the temple. That tells you at once that the entry is about authority. The king has arrived, and the first place he goes is the centre of Israel’s worship.

It is possible for a place, a church, or a life to look deeply religious while no longer functioning for what God intended. Activity can be full while worship is hollow.

He drives people out. He overturns tables and benches. This is public, disruptive authority.

And we need to say carefully what the issue is. The problem is not simply that there was money in the area. The market served real needs. The problem is deeper than that. The whole thing had become a system that no longer served God’s purpose. The place meant for real approach to God had become clogged with activity while hollowing out the heart of worship.

Jesus explains the act with Scripture. He names the temple by God’s own words.

“My house will be called a house of prayer.”

That is Isaiah 56. God’s house is meant to be a place of real approach to him, a house of prayer for all nations. It was not meant to become a protected religious zone for insiders who knew how to work the system.

So the warning reaches us as well. Church must not become a place where insiders know the code, outsiders feel they do not belong, and the whole atmosphere quietly says, “People like us know how this works.”

And if this passage searches our church, it asks whether we want Richmond to feel well-run, or whether we want it to be a place where people truly come near to God.

That begins with us. Are we actually coming near to God, or are we mostly keeping church life moving? And are we helping actual people do the same? Are we making it easier for someone to look, explore, ask real questions, keep coming, and move from curiosity toward trust? Or do we quietly communicate that church is mainly for people who already know the code?

If God’s house is for real approach to him, then our church life should do both: help us come near to God in truth, and help us bring others with us to see, explore, question, and come near to Christ with faith.

“But you are making it a den of robbers.”

That is Jeremiah 7. A den of robbers is not where robbery first happens. It is where robbers retreat and feel safe. It is a hideout where what is wrong gets sheltered.

So Jesus is saying that the temple system had become a religious cover for what was wrong. Instead of serving God’s purpose it was sheltering corruption and obstructing the very access it was meant to serve.

That is why this passage is so uncomfortable for church people. Empty worship does not usually look empty at first glance. It can look like a shop front still tidy, lit, and open, even though there is nothing living behind the display.

So this section asks us hard questions. What in my life looks worshipful, but has become hollow? Where have I kept the structure of prayer, but lost the reality of prayer? Where have I kept the language of devotion, but lost actual dependence on God?

For some, empty worship will look like saying prayers while hardly depending on God at all, serving in church as a way of avoiding repentance, wanting Jesus to steady your life without ruling your speech, grudges, or habits, or turning church into a safe religious routine where we can remain fundamentally unchanged.

It can even show up in the way we use God’s name: saying “oh my God” lightly or thoughtlessly, while hardly noticing that his name is meant to be treated with reverence.

And if someone has settled into nominal Christianity, this is one of the ways it shows itself: God-language may still be there, but reverence, repentance, and real dependence on God have quietly thinned out. It is possible to keep the shell of worship in place while resisting the living God at the centre of it.

Jesus judges empty worship not because he hates worship, but because he loves true worship. His severity is aimed at religion that blocks, distorts, or replaces coming near to God.

That matters, because the answer to hollow worship is not “try to look more sincere.” The answer is Christ himself. The king who exposes false worship is also the king who opens the way for real worship.

So reverence does not defend what Jesus is exposing. Reverence lets the king judge it. If he overturns something, we do not rush to set it back up.

So let Christ name what is hollow. Repent specifically of one pattern of empty worship. But do not stop at self-accusation. Bring that hollow place to Christ, because he is not exposing it in order to drive you away, but in order to restore you to real prayer, real dependence, and real nearness to God.

At home, that may mean refusing the appearance of family religion while real prayer has quietly gone thin. In church, it may mean refusing to hide behind competence or visible service while Christ is calling for repentance. In the wider world, it may mean refusing the instinct to stay self-sufficient and let work or respectability take the place of dependence on God.

Reverence rejoices in the worship the king restores (14-16)

If the sermon stopped at verse 13, we might leave with the impression that Jesus mainly comes to tear things down. But Jesus never exposes false worship without showing what true worship looks like.

That is not a side note. The temple is being reclaimed for what it should have been. The place that had become crowded with hollow religious machinery is now filled with needy people coming to Jesus. By “religious machinery” I mean the whole system of activity and routine that kept the place busy while not helping needy people come near to God.

True worship is not simply the removal of what is false. It is needy sinners coming near to the king.

The blind come. The lame come. He does not keep them at a distance. He heals them. So the king’s judgment is not bare destruction. It is clearing the way for life.

Some hearers will feel more the warning of this passage than its welcome. Maybe you hear this and think, “Then where do I stand? I know my heart is mixed. I know I am weak.” This verse says the king who judges hollow religion is the same king who welcomes the needy. He does not drive away the blind and the lame. He receives them. He restores them.

We may prefer order, competence, and familiarity to the kind of worship where needy people actually come near to Christ. It can feel easier to manage a polished room than to welcome people who expose how much we all need mercy.

Then the contrast sharpens. The children are shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David.” The leaders see the wonderful things Jesus has done, hear the praise, and they are indignant.

That is astonishing. They see healing in the temple. They hear praise in the temple. And they are angry. The evidence is not missing. Their hearts are resisting it.

In fact, the children are seeing more truly than the religious professionals. Those who should have recognised the signs are hardened, while the little ones are crying out the truth.

Why? Because false religion is not only offended by judgment. It is also offended by genuine worship. In effect they are asking, “Surely you are going to stop this.”

And Jesus says, “Yes. Have you never read…?” He cites Psalm 8 and receives that praise as fitting.

The king who clears God’s house is on his way to the cross. This passage does not yet state everything the cross will achieve, but it clearly points in that direction. Jesus is moving toward the work by which he will secure the access to God that this temple was always meant to serve.

So this passage is not only a warning passage. It is also a gospel passage.

Jesus is not saying, “Sort yourself out, and then maybe you can come near.” He is saying, by his actions, “I judge what is false, and I welcome those who need mercy.”

Maybe, as someone who is not yet a believer, you feel like an outsider stepping into church this morning. Please hear this: the point is not, “make yourself respectable and then approach God.” The point is: come to the king as you are, because he welcomes the needy.

For the weary believer, the point is not: perform better. The way back is the king who welcomes the needy. Has prayer become thin? Has service become a hiding place? Has churchgoing become routine without joy? Come honestly to him.

If you are a parent, ask whether you are training children merely to look respectable, or helping them come honestly to Christ. If you are young, do not keep Jesus in the Sunday box. Let him speak into your friendships, your screen life, your ambitions, and your speech.

And for the proudly self-reliant, the pressure is sharper. If you mainly want control, polish, and religious manageability, then this section warns you that you may be closer to the indignant leaders than to the children.

And for the church as a whole, the question is simple and searching. Do we rejoice when Christ restores real worship, even if it is not tidy in the ways we prefer? Or would we rather preserve control than welcome life?

Come to Christ as one who needs healing, not as one managing appearances. Rejoice in the worship the king restores. Refuse the kind of religion that would rather preserve control than welcome life.

And if you are one of the steady ones at Richmond, then your push is not only to enjoy this truth yourself. It is to help build a church culture where needy people can come near, where children can speak praise, and where we do not prize tidiness above life.

Conclusion

So the passage leaves us with one searching question: who really reveres the king? Not simply who can say the right words or keep religious life looking active, but who will receive his authority, accept his judgment, and rejoice in the worship he restores.

Jesus arrives as King, judging empty religion and restoring right worship. He enters Jerusalem and goes straight to the temple, but he is also going to the cross. This scene points forward to the cross, where he will secure the true approach to God that the temple was meant to serve. What the temple signified, he will fulfil.

So reverence for the king is humble trust, glad submission, and grateful worship before the one who saves by laying down his life.

That means the next step is not complicated. If you have only admired Jesus, receive him as king. If you have been defending hollow worship, repent and let him judge it. If you are needy, come near. If Christ is restoring real worship, rejoice in it.

Ask God this week, very simply: “Lord Jesus, make my worship true, prayerful, and full of reverence.”

That is a prayer he loves to answer.