It is said that the German composer G.F. Handel's musical career was at its lowest when he was commissioned to do a new oratorio based on the libretto written by his benefactor, the devout Anglican Charles Jennens. Working feverishly to provide music to Jennens' words, in a month's time the German musical prodigy produced an opus that would resurrect his career from oblivion: The Messiah.

The story goes that as the first notes of the oratorio's Hallelujah Chorus were played during a performance on March 23, 1743 in Dublin, King George II, who was in attendance, stood up; nobody really knew why but that started the tradition of the audience standing up every time the famous chorus is sung. But Jennen's libretto was a theological attack on Deists who preached a God uninterested in human history. In fact, it was an exaltation of who Jesus Christ truly is. As the powerful lines of the Hallelujah Chorus would put it: "The kingdom of this world/Is become the kingdom of our Lord,/ And of His Christ, and of His Christ;/And He shall reign for ever and ever..."

As a musical masterpiece, it remains one of Europe's greatest contributions to world cultural development; as an embodiment of Christian conviction, it remains a powerful reminder to a contemporary Europe suffering from cultural and religious amnesia – to a continent that steadfastly refuses to come to terms with the fact that all that it knows of Western civilization finds deep roots in a rich Christian heritage that it can only consign to historical curiosity at its own peril.

But King George II rising on his feet to the solemn declarations of the Hallelujah Chorus couldn't be more apropos in light of the message of the oratorio: that the true Lord and Sovereign of the cosmos is the Kyrios, Jesus Christ.

Alas, it is one truth that is also lost even to most Christian churches today. All too often, in their proclamation, churches confine the Lordship of Christ to the realm of the private – to the comfortable confines of the worship service, the bible study, evangelism and other such "Christian activities." I come from an evangelical tradition that has had a largely spiritualized view of eschatology, of the last things. Its idea of the Resurrected Christ is of him returning to take away his followers to some other dimension that isn't this created order.

The Apostle Paul, in Philippians 2:9-11, says that that because of his humility in the incarnation, God exalted Jesus and gave him the name above every name, so that at his name, every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

This is where everything gets spiritualized. Despite the clear language of Scripture, Christians often think that Jesus is ruler now only of spiritual things, but not of politics, not of the arts, not of the sciences, not of our washing of dishes and taking care of our environment. But his Resurrection and Ascension say it all: he is in charge now, not only of heaven but of earth, and we are his co-rulers, in his "continuing human work in the present," as the theologian and biblical scholar N.T. Wright would put it in his book Surprised by Hope (2008).

The New Testament witness affirms and asserts that the one who has gone into heaven will come back – not to take us away to some place faraway but to renew all of creation and establish his heavenly rule on earth.

N.T. Wright notes that we cannot find in the gospels or the Book of Acts anyone saying that the Resurrected Christ has gone into heaven, so let's be sure we can follow him; rather, they say that Jesus is in heaven, ruling the whole world, and he will return one day to make that rule complete.

Such is the redemptive view of history. The bodily resurrection and ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ anticipates the renewal of all of creation – salvation is total, not just personal. It encompasses all things. For in Jesus, God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood on the cross (Col. 1:20).

Thus, when God saves us, we are to be a sign to the world of the coming of the ultimate salvation.

Christians ought to show this through their discipleship, faith, holiness, hope and love and yes, God's justice. They are to become part of the means by which God makes his Kingdom happen both now and in the future. Here we proclaim and live the gospel – the good news that God (the world's creator) is at last becoming king and that Jesus, whom God raised from the dead, is the world's only true Lord who is renewing fallen creation. A gospel this big cannot be pushed out of "worldly politics" into some quiet, private corner.

Evidently, this now goes beyond an evangelism of a convert entering into a private relationship with God. When evangelism becomes the announcement of God's kingdom and the Lordship of Christ in it and through it, the church raises believers who know from the start that they are part of God's kingdom project.

Too, this truth changes the way we look at the liturgical practices that mark the church: baptism and the Eucharist. Philosophers and other intellectuals today all speak in varying ways of the direction of history. That old pagan view of history coming into cycles has acquired a contemporary air in the academe today. The Marxists and socialists speak of a classless utopia; but in the Holy Communion, we proclaim the mystery of our faith: "Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again!" That is our theory of history. It is the same message of our baptism – of our dying to our sin with Christ and of our being raised into the newness of life.

In Pauline theology, "eternal life" has a meaning deeper than what the Four Spiritual Laws tract says: it actually means the beginning of our life under the new aeon in Christ, our participation in a new history that the true Messiah is writing. It is a history where peace and justice reigns, where all kinds of injustice and oppression have no place.

History is definitely coming into a definite end, and for Handel as it is for us, it will be at the disclosure of Jesus, the Kyrios, the Lord of the Cosmos, coming to judge all human rights violators, all corrupt government officials, the sexually immoral, the liars, the oppressors, the idolaters of various shades and stripes, the scoffers.

Thus, every time we practice the Eucharist and baptism as communities of faith, we actually raise a powerful indictment of the powers-that-be who claim to lord it over the life and death of others. Small wonder that in the Apostle Paul's time, followers of the cult of Caesar felt threatened by the Christian confession that Jesus is Lord.

Yet, as N.T. Wright stresses, the announcement that Jesus is the Lord of the Cosmos – and corruption, injustice and all forms of evil and Satan himself are defeated – only makes sense when the church does two things: first, it must involve itself in the redemptive work for justice, for those who are helpless and who have no voice, for those who are oppressed; and second, it must show in its life as a community that the new creation is indeed happening, celebrating with joy God's good creation, working to rescue art and music from corruption, calling one and all to a life of holiness and love.*