No Kings But Jesus: A Cry for Humility in an Age of Would-Be Emperors

By Pastor David Whitmore | Circus of Power | March 28, 2026

In the shadow of ancient thrones and modern power plays, a simple question echoes through Scripture and history alike: What does it mean to lead like a servant when the world clamors for kings? Today, as throngs gather in cities from Philadelphia to Nashville under the banner of "No Kings," that question feels more urgent than ever. These protests, drawing over 100,000 souls across more than 50 American cities, aren't just political theater—they're a raw, interfaith lament against the creeping authoritarianism that dresses itself in the robes of patriotism and faith. As a pastor who's spent decades shepherding a flock in rural Tennessee, I watch with a heavy heart, not in judgment, but in shared sorrow for a nation adrift from the humility that once defined our better angels.

The "No Kings" rallies, now in their third year, began as a response to policies that blur the lines between governance and dominance. Organized by groups like the Interfaith Alliance, they've swelled today amid the chaos of President Trump's second term: a grinding war with Iran that's wounded over 300 American troops, a partial government shutdown now on its fourth day that's snarled airports and stalled services, and an immigration crackdown that's ensnared tens of thousands of refugees in a web of raids and rhetoric. In Philadelphia, 20,000 marchers formed a human chain spelling out "Trump Must Go Now!" according to CNN reports. Here in Nashville, just miles from my church, 10,000 voices chanted "No kings but Jesus," a phrase rooted in the Puritan rebellion against monarchy but repurposed to decry what protesters see as executive overreach. San Francisco's rally saw demonstrators link arms in a massive circle, symbolizing unity against division sown by fear.

These aren't fringe gatherings; they're a cross-section of Americans weary of what one organizer called "religion justifying attacks" on the vulnerable. Faith leaders from Baptist to Buddhist pulpits have joined, protesting not just the Iran conflict—where drone strikes rained down on Tehran even as oil prices spiked 15% to $95 a barrel—but the domestic fallout. The shutdown, triggered by a House-passed DHS bill funding immigration enforcement that Senate Democrats deemed "dead on arrival," has left TSA workers in limbo, despite the president's emergency declaration to pay them. Long lines at airports are just the visible scar; beneath it lies a deeper wound: policies allowing the arrest of refugees without green cards for mere "inspection," as outlined in a February memo from the New York Times. ICE raids have surged 20% in border states, per Reuters, separating families fleeing violence and testing our national conscience.

From a biblical vantage, this moment evokes the stark warning in 1 Samuel 8, where the Israelites demand a king "like all the nations," only to reap corruption and oppression. God, through the prophet, laments their rejection of divine rule, foretelling how kings would tax, conscript, and devour their own people. Today, the "No Kings" cry isn't anti-government—it's anti-idolatry, a refusal to crown any leader with unchecked power. Chants of "No kings but Jesus" remind us of the Messiah who washed feet rather than demanding tribute, who said, "The greatest among you shall be your servant" (Matthew 23:11). In an era where executive orders prioritize military funding amid ceasefires that flicker and fail—like the partial truce with Iran shattered by Israeli strikes—these protests call us back to servanthood over sovereignty.

Yet what grieves me most, as an evangelical who's voted Republican down-ballot my entire life, is how faith itself has been conscripted into this kingship game. At CPAC 2026 in Texas, drawing 15,000 attendees, speakers like exiled Iranian prince Reza Pahlavi blended calls for regime change with praise for "Making America Great Again." "President Trump is Making Iran Great Again," he declared, to cheers that echoed the MAGA rallying cry. Panels touted religious liberty—announcing hearings on healthcare freedoms through the new Religious Liberty Commission—but undertones of Christian nationalism ran deep. A CPAC poll showed 45% of attendees identifying as evangelical, and speeches wove patriotism with prophecy in ways that blur the cross with the flag. As a USA Today op-ed noted this week, one in three Americans now sympathizes with Christian nationalism, viewing America as a divinely ordained outpost against "Sharia" or secularism. But is this faith or fortress-building? Revelation 18 paints a vivid picture of Babylon's fall—a bloated empire drunk on power, where merchants and kings mourn its collapse not for the people, but for the lost luxuries.

I've seen this distortion up close in my congregation. Good folks, descendants of farmers and factory workers, wave flags at rallies convinced they're defending biblical values. Pro-life? Absolutely, and I stand with them on the sanctity of the unborn. Traditional marriage? A cornerstone of human flourishing, as Genesis teaches. But when those convictions fuel raids on refugee families—100,000 affected since January, according to the American Immigration Lawyers Association—or justify "obvious lies" about war progress (as a New York Times op-ed tallied, echoing PolitiFact's count of over 15,000 false claims since 2017), we risk trading the Gospel for a gospel of conquest. The "No Kings" protesters include pro-life voices decrying the war's toll on young lives, and interfaith groups surveying religious liberty amid persecution. Even [Pope Francis]'s recent Liberty Medal acceptance speech, reported by Vatican News, contrasted global Christian suffering with America's internal tensions, urging mercy over might.

Let me share a story from my own roots, one that grounds me when the headlines howl. My grandfather, a quiet man from these Tennessee hills, fought in World War II—not as a conqueror seeking glory, but as a draftee who bandaged wounds on both sides in the hedgerows of Normandy. He never spoke much of the battles, but he'd recount the Christmas of '44, when GIs and locals shared a makeshift meal under truce. "War makes kings of no one," he'd say, quoting a line from an old hymn. "It reveals the servant in us, or the absence of it." Grandpa voted straight-ticket his life, believed in limited government and the dignity of work, but he taught me that true patriotism kneels before God, not before any man. In today's Iran war, with 273 wounded troops back on duty yet morale leaking like a sieve through anonymous reports, we see the cost of endless empire. Protests linking the conflict to immigration—fearing Iranian refugees amid heightened raids—echo his warning: Fear forges chains, not freedom.

The shutdown exacerbates it all, with House Speaker Mike Johnson hailing border security while Senate Democrats decry "vindictive theater." Trump's White House statement blames Democrats for chaos, but data tells a fuller story: Raids prioritize optics over real threats, per Reuters analysis, and Supreme Court arguments today on asylum limits at the Mexico border underscore the stakes. As Leviticus 19:34 commands, "The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself." Our policies, born of legitimate security concerns, too often forget this. Faith-based aid groups face religious liberty challenges when aiding the detained, turning compassion into controversy.

I don't dismiss the protesters lightly—many in my pews eye them warily, seeing "radical left" shadows where I see sincere seekers. Nor do I endorse any party's platform; politics is a tool, not a throne. But these rallies, dismissed by Trump allies on X as "fake news," hold a mirror to us all. Governor Tim Walz of Minnesota captured a defiant hope in his pledge to Somali immigrants: "Your great-grandchildren will still be here when that orange clown is in the dustbin of history!" It's colorful, perhaps, but it speaks to endurance over enmity.

So where do we go from here? Not to more division, but to revival—the kind that begins in quiet confession. James 4:10 promises, "Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will exalt you." America needs leaders who serve, churches that witness without wielding swords, and citizens who choose truth over triumph. The "No Kings" protests aren't the end; they're a beginning, a call to conscience in a circus of power. May we heed it, not with anger, but with the sorrowful resolve of those who know the King who came not to be served, but to serve—and gave his life as ransom for many.

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Pastor David Whitmore leads Grace Community Church in Tennessee and writes on faith, character, and the moral dimensions of public life.

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