In this episode of Are You Just Watching?, we dive into The King of Kings (2025), an animated retelling of Christ’s life designed for children—but packed with enough artistry, music, and narrative layers to captivate adults. With its beautiful frame story echoing The Princess Bride and its masterful blend of ancient musical modes, the film draws us into familiar gospel territory in unfamiliar ways.
But does it illuminate Christ as Savior—or risk reducing Him to myth?
Join us as we wrestle with storytelling, explore the Second Commandment’s relevance in Christian media, and ask whether this film strikes the right balance between reverence and imagination. And as always, we invite you to think critically alongside us.
This episode of Are You Just Watching? brings a special reunion as Daniel J. Lewis joins Eve and me for a conversation that goes beyond surface impressions. The King of Kings (2025) offers a unique blend of artistry and reverence, retelling the life of Jesus through the lens of a child’s imagination. While Eve and I usually steer clear of “Christian” films—those that assume a faith-based worldview—we found this one worth unpacking.
Daniel shares what it was like seeing The King of Kings through his son’s eyes, while I reflect on my experience with my grandchildren. Together, we explore how the film’s framing invites younger viewers to connect emotionally and where it may fall short.
And we couldn’t help but start with the music. Composer Tae-seong Kim’s integration of ancient modal scales and chant-like textures elevates The King of Kings , setting a tone that’s both sacred and striking—a rare accomplishment that even I couldn’t overlook.
First Impressions
We’ve talked before on this podcast about our love for a good frame story, and The King of Kings (2025) plays right into that affection. Eve opened our discussion by comparing this film’s structure to The Princess Bride—a grandfather reading a story to his sick grandson. This time, it’s Charles Dickens telling the story of Jesus to his son, Walter. While this framing is fictionalized, it draws from Dickens’ real-life practice of reading his private work, The Life of Our Lord, to his children each Christmas. That manuscript wasn’t published until long after Dickens’ death, but the emotional heart of those family readings echoes in this film’s structure.
Eve especially appreciated how this frame allowed space for parental explanation—with Dickens pausing at key moments to clarify complicated concepts to Walter. She shared how, in her theater full of children, those narrative pauses helped bridge complex ideas like sin and sacrifice for younger viewers. In The King of Kings , Dickens takes Walter back to Adam and Eve to explain why Jesus had to die, planting seeds of understanding in Walter and the watching audience.
For me, the most striking moment came in the visualization of substitutionary atonement. We all agreed on this one—we were moved by the scene where Walter sinks beneath the waves, only for Jesus to reach down, embrace him, and trade places, sending Walter to the surface while Christ remains in the depths. Daniel shared how that moment nearly choked him up, and honestly, it did the same for me. The tenderness on Jesus’ face in that scene, the sheer beauty of the animation—it’s an image that lingers. Eve was sure this was the one moment from the film she’d carry for life. And she’s right. If The King of Kings did nothing else, that would have been enough.
Daniel reflected on seeing The King of Kings with his eight-year-old son, sharing how the frame story helped his child connect with the Gospel. Walter’s role as an invisible observer—unseen by the other characters but acknowledged by Jesus—became a point of identification. Daniel’s son, like Walter, could imagine himself there, part of the story. That design choice resonated deeply with them, creating a powerful personal connection.
Eve, however, raised a thoughtful concern. In our modern world, where animated fairy tales flood the cultural landscape, does framing Jesus’ life in this style risk reducing it to just another myth? For Eve, that fairy tale tone blurred the line between history and fiction, making it feel too much like King Arthur or other legendary heroes. She felt The King of Kings missed an opportunity to emphasize the historical reality of Jesus’ life.
Daniel pushed back a bit on that, saying the frame story actually reinforced reality for him. Dickens repeatedly reminds Walter that these events truly happened, and Daniel felt that balanced the artistic rendering. I found myself somewhere in the middle. I appreciated those reminders, but I still wonder if a second viewing would tip the scales one way or the other.
I also reflected on the artistic quality of The King of Kings . Growing up on the limited animation of Hanna-Barbera and early anime like Star Blazers, I’ve not always been a fan of animated features. But seeing Into the Spider-Verse a few years back opened my eyes to what animation can achieve—things live-action simply can’t. And The King of Kings leans into that strength. The lighting shifts, the color palettes—subtle changes that reflect the emotion of each scene without drawing attention to themselves. I mentioned the Lazarus scene, how the lighting subtly moves from muted sorrow to brighter tones as Lazarus walks out of the tomb. It’s artistry that elevates the storytelling.
And then there’s the music—something I rarely lead the conversation on! But this time, it caught my ear. Tae-seong Kim composed a score that blends ancient Hebrew cantillation with Gregorian chant, layering the soundtrack with sacred weight. As someone who recently taught on Jewish worship practices, I recognized elements I don’t often hear in modern scores. This wasn’t just background music—it lifted The King of Kings’s sacred tone, much like singing an old hymn connects us to something more profound.
Still, I shared one critique that’s been simmering for me. For all the reverence The King of Kings shows, it shies away from naming sin directly. The word itself is barely spoken, and repentance isn’t emphasized. Compressing the Gospel accounts into a two-hour film means leaving things out, but I felt the reason for Jesus’ coming—to save us from sin—needed more clarity. Walter never quite connects his need for a Savior to the reality of his own sin. It’s a minor critique, but one that stuck with me.
Daniel echoed my thoughts, noting how Christian productions have historically lagged behind in quality and storytelling. But not here. He praised The King of Kings’s production values, acting, and craftsmanship as some of the best he’s seen from a faith-based project. And he shared my hope that the stellar voice cast, including names like Pierce Brosnan, Mark Hamill, and Ben Kingsley, might encounter truth through their work on this project—even if they don’t share its faith.
We all appreciated how The King of Kings presented a complete story, touching on Christ’s deity, obedience, and the tearing of the temple curtain—even if some moments felt rushed (we’re looking at you, resurrection scene!). Daniel, in particular, wished for a more cinematic climax at the empty tomb. But the film’s strength lies in inviting curiosity and conversation, leaving room for parents, grandparents, and children alike to wrestle with the truth behind the story.
2nd Commandment: Pros and Cons of Representing Christ in Media
We’ve wrestled with this before, but The King of Kings brought us back to a familiar and important conversation—the Second Commandment and how it applies to representing Christ in media. I’ve shared my concerns in past episodes, particularly about shows like The Chosen, but this film gave me the perfect opportunity to revisit those thoughts and consider the pros and cons from a more reflective place.
I laid the groundwork by reading Exodus 20:4-6, where God commands:
Do not make an idol for yourself, whether in the shape of anything in the heavens above or on the earth below or in the waters under the earth. Do not bow in worship to them, and do not serve them; for I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God, bringing the consequences of the fathers’ iniquity on the children to the third and fourth generations of those who hate me, but showing faithful love to a thousand generations of those who love me and keep my commands. (Exodus 20:4-6)
That commandment has been interpreted differently across Christian traditions. I outlined four main views:
- Iconoclastic View: Strict prohibition—no images of Christ whatsoever. Any depiction risks misrepresenting the divine nature of Jesus.
- Didactic View: Educational use is acceptable—images can teach, but must never be used for worship.
- Incarnational View: Affirmative use—because Christ became flesh, portraying Him visually honors the Incarnation and can even support reverent worship.
- Cultural View: Artistic liberty—the Second Commandment doesn’t apply to modern art or media. Representations of Christ are aesthetic choices, not theological ones.
I fall somewhere between Iconoclastic and Didactic. I can’t accept the Cultural view. To me, the risk of misrepresentation is too great. But at the same time, I recognize, especially for young children, that visual learning matters. Eve reminded me in past episodes that kids think concretely—they need to see to understand. And like it or not, they’ll imagine Jesus whether we give them an image or not. Better they imagine a respectful, ethnically accurate depiction than a wild superhero or medieval king.
But there’s a danger here. If we offer visual aids, we must take great care not to let them become objects of reverence. This is where instruction matters—teaching children to worship Christ, not the picture.
For me, it comes down to conscience. Romans 14:1-4 tells us to welcome the one who is weak in faith but not quarrel over disputed matters. Some may feel the need for strict abstention; others, more freedom. The key is respecting one another’s convictions.
Welcome anyone who is weak in faith, but don’t argue about disputed matters. One person believes he may eat anything, while one who is weak eats only vegetables. One who eats must not look down on one who does not eat, and one who does not eat must not judge one who does, because God has accepted him. Who are you to judge another’s household servant? Before his own Lord he stands or falls. And he will stand, because the Lord is able to make him stand. – Romans 14:1–4
Eve and Daniel leaned toward the Cultural or Didactic views. Eve argued that the Second Commandment is more about idolatry in the heart than the image itself. We idolize far more than pictures—our time, heroes, and priorities can all become idols. She felt that the concern over depicting Jesus was missing the broader point of the commandment. Daniel echoed this, pointing out that most translations say “idol” or “graven image,” emphasizing worship, not artistic representation.
Still, I shared my discomfort with Jonathan Roumie in The Chosen. When people pray, I worry they’re picturing him—not Christ. Maybe that’s not sin, and if it is, Christ died for that sin, too—but it makes me uneasy. Erring on the side of caution feels wise.
The King of Kings handled this tension well. Its stylized 3D animation, with painterly textures and sculptural character design, balanced reverence with approachability. Jesus didn’t feel too realistic or too cartoonish. The art conveyed spiritual weight without demanding devotion to the image. It walked the line—inviting connection without courting idolatry.
In the end, we won’t all agree. But as Daniel reminded us from Galatians 5:13, our freedom shouldn’t become a stumbling block. Let’s use media responsibly, always pointing hearts toward Christ, not the canvas.
For you were called to be free, brothers and sisters; only don’t use this freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but serve one another through love. (Galatians 5:13)
Storytelling and a Child’s Imagination
After diving deep into the Second Commandment, Eve shifted our conversation toward the power of storytelling and how it shapes a child’s imagination. She shared how sleeping on the film overnight stirred up thoughts about the movie’s visual structure. The King of Kings presents itself as a story within a story, blending imagination and narrative in a way that is both creative and, at times, disorienting.
Eve pointed out how The King of Kings opens with a depiction of Scrooge facing his mortality, only to reveal Charles Dickens on stage. That early juxtaposition between fiction and reality mirrors the entire framing device of Dickens telling Walter the story of Jesus. As the tale unfolds, characters from Dickens’ life—his wife, even the family cat—step into roles within the story. There’s a moment where Walter imagines Jesus holding his lost cat, only for Jesus to transform into his father holding the cat. Eve highlighted how powerful that scene felt—tying into the Good Shepherd imagery—but it also reminded her that this is, at its heart, storytelling, not Scripture.
That led us to reflect on storytelling in Scripture itself. I shared how the early church and Judaism were built on oral tradition. For centuries, God’s people told stories to remember and pass down their history. Even Jesus taught with parables, crafting vivid narratives to convey spiritual truths. Before the New Testament canon was formed, the apostles told the stories of Jesus aloud, anchoring faith in lived experience.
I quoted Deuteronomy 6:20-21, where God commands His people to explain the meaning of His laws by retelling the Exodus. Storytelling wasn’t just entertainment—it was discipleship.
“When your son asks you in the future, ‘What is the meaning of the decrees, statutes, and ordinances that the LORD our God has commanded you?’ tell him, ‘We were slaves of Pharaoh in Egypt, but the LORD brought us out of Egypt with a strong hand. (Deuteronomy 6:20-21)
Yet, as Eve reminded us, today’s culture tends to equate “story” with fiction. And when the Gospel narrative is framed like a fairy tale, there’s a real risk that children might not distinguish it from superhero stories or legends. She cited Psalm 78:1-7, where God commands the retelling of His mighty works so that future generations will put their faith in Him. The stories in Scripture are historical accounts, not just moral fables.
My people, hear my instruction; listen to the words from my mouth. I will declare wise sayings; I will speak mysteries from the past—things we have heard and known and that our ancestors have passed down to us. We will not hide them from their children, but will tell a future generation the praiseworthy acts of the Lord, his might, and the wondrous works he has performed. He established a testimony in Jacob and set up a law in Israel, which he commanded our ancestors to teach to their children so that a future generation—children yet to be born—might know. They were to rise and tell their children so that they might put their confidence in God and not forget God’s works, but keep his commands. (Psalm 78:1-7)
Daniel chimed in, noting how Walter’s excitement at The King of Kings’s end felt more about a good story than truth or transformation. We agreed that parents and mentors must take the next step—turning the storytelling experience into a teachable moment, helping children understand that these aren’t just stories but real history with eternal significance.
As Eve shared, this discussion ties directly into the heart of her book, Are You Just Watching?—a resource designed to help Christians engage critically with entertainment. She emphasizes the responsibility we bear as teachers and parents, reminding us that storytelling is never neutral. Whether we’re watching a movie, reading a book, or sharing bedtime stories, we are shaping how the next generation understands truth.
Finally brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable—if there is any moral excellence and if there is anything praiseworthy—dwell on these things. Do what you have learned and received and heard from me, and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you. (Philippians 4:8-9)
As Paul encourages in Philippians 4:8-9, we are to dwell on what is true and commendable, and James warns that teachers are held to a higher standard (James 3:1). Eve’s call is clear: don’t stop with the movie. Use it as a springboard to talk to your children about the real, historical Jesus, His death and resurrection, and what that means for their lives today.
Not many should become teachers, my brothers, because you know that we will receive a stricter judgment. (James 3:1)
The Messianic Hero and Christ
Coming out of our discussion on storytelling, we naturally transitioned into one of the more familiar tropes we’ve seen again and again in media—the messianic hero. Eve pointed out that Walter’s fascination with King Arthur isn’t just a character quirk—it taps into a deeper, universal pull toward stories of savior figures. King Arthur, Superman, Neo, Frodo—storytellers across cultures seem to echo Christ, whether they realize it or not.
Eve reminded us that Christ is not a messianic hero—He is the Messiah. All those other stories are merely reflections, drawing from the original. Whether Charles Dickens believed the Arthurian legend was rooted in the Gospel is unknown, but The King of Kings uses this idea to bridge Walter’s love of Arthur with the true King of Kings. And here’s where I need to offer a little mea culpa. During the episode, I referenced the earliest written Arthurian accounts as dating from the 15th century, but the historical trail goes much further back. The first written reference to Arthur actually appears around 828 AD in the Historia Brittonum, with Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae* (1136 AD) significantly expanding the legend. What I meant to convey is that Arthurian tales grew more messianic over time, absorbing Christian imagery—including that of the righteous king and sword of justice—as the stories evolved through both oral and written traditions.
Walter’s fascination with swords is no accident. He spends much of the film waiting for Jesus to draw His “magic sword,” echoing Arthur’s Excalibur. But as Eve pointed out, the film subverts that expectation beautifully—Jesus never wields a physical sword. Instead, Dickens explains to Walter that Jesus’ sword is His words.
For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad. Do you want to be unafraid of the one in authority? Do what is good, and you will have its approval. For it is God’s servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, because it does not carry the sword for no reason. For it is God’s servant, an avenger that brings wrath on the one who does wrong. (Romans 13:3-4)
Stand, therefore, with truth like a belt around your waist, righteousness like armor on your chest, and your feet sandaled with readiness for the gospel of peace. In every situation take up the shield of faith with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit—which is the word of God. (Ephesians 6:14–17)
For the word of God is living and effective and sharper than any double-edged sword, penetrating as far as the separation of soul and spirit, joints and marrow. It is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart. No creature is hidden from him, but all things are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give an account. (Hebrews 4:12)
I tied that into Romans 13, where rulers bear the sword of justice. Excalibur symbolized the king’s duty to uphold justice, not to seek vengeance. But Jesus’ sword? It’s the Word of God—bringing justice through truth. As Ephesians 6:17 says, “Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.” Hebrews 4:12 reminds us that the Word is sharper than any two-edged sword, discerning thoughts and intentions.
Then I saw heaven opened, and there was a white horse. Its rider is called Faithful and True, and with justice he judges and makes war. His eyes were like a fiery flame, and many crowns were on his head. He had a name written that no one knows except himself. He wore a robe dipped in blood, and his name is called the Word of God. The armies that were in heaven followed him on white horses, wearing pure white linen. A sharp sword came from his mouth, so that he might strike the nations with it. He will rule them with an iron rod. He will also trample the winepress of the fierce anger of God, the Almighty. And he has a name written on his robe and on his thigh: KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS. (Revelation 19:11-16)
In Revelation 19, Jesus returns with a sword coming from His mouth—a vivid image of judgment through His word, not physical force. Eve tied this back to the film’s depiction of Jesus resisting Satan’s temptations, wielding Scripture as His sword.
Our conversation also turned toward the practical implications of wielding the Word of God in today’s world. I reflected on a personal tension I’ve long carried—as both a father and a veteran—about when to stand firm and when to lay down arms. Do we, as Christians, take up literal swords in defense of the faith, or are we called to suffer wrong without retaliation? This isn’t a hypothetical question for me. As a father, when my children face injustice—when they’re bullied or mistreated—there’s a very human urge to step in with force.
But Scripture calls us to another kind of battle. In 2 Corinthians 10:3-5, Paul reminds us:
For although we live in the flesh, we do not wage war according to the flesh, since the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh, but are powerful through God for the demolition of strongholds. We demolish arguments and every proud thing that is raised up against the knowledge of God, and we take every thought captive to obey Christ. (2 Corinthians 10:3-5)
The battles we’re called to fight are battles of heart, mind, and spirit. And Jesus modeled that perfectly. In The King of Kings, the film shows Christ in the wilderness, facing Satan’s temptations. His weapon? Scripture. Each response begins with “It is written”—not paraphrased, not filtered through commentary, but the pure Word of God.
Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. After he had fasted forty days and forty nights, he was hungry. Then the tempter approached him and said, “If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread.” He answered, “It is written: Man must not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.” Then the devil took him to the holy city, had him stand on the pinnacle of the temple, and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down. For it is written: He will give his angels orders concerning you, and they will support you with their hands so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.” Jesus told him, “It is also written: Do not test the Lord your God.” Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. And he said to him, “I will give you all these things if you will fall down and worship me.” Then Jesus told him, “Go away, Satan! For it is written: Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.” Then the devil left him, and angels came and began to serve him. (Matthew 4:1-11)
Eve added an important reminder: too often, we wield secondhand interpretations—commentaries, devotionals, opinions. But our true sword must be the Word itself, sharpened through personal study and relationship with God.
I echoed that, cautioning against using Scripture as a club—a tool for beating others into submission. Instead, it’s meant to divide truth from lies, health from corruption, like a scalpel in the hands of a skilled surgeon. And I’m not that surgeon. None of us are. Only God’s wisdom allows us to wield His Word properly.
When Jesus heard this, he told them, “It is not those who are well who need a doctor, but those who are sick. I didn’t come to call the righteous, but sinners.” (Mark 2:17)
Daniel appreciated how The King of Kings illustrated this, especially when Jesus said, “It’s not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.” That scene connected the spiritual battle to healing, not hurting. We may be called to defend others, but our sword is always one of truth and restoration, never of vengeance or pride.
Ultimately, Jesus is not another messianic hero—He’s the source of the archetype. The King of Kings invites us to remember that His sword heals, reveals, and redeems.
Behavior has Consequences
As we wrapped up our discussion, Eve brought us to what she felt was The King of Kings‘s central theme—behavior has consequences. This theme unfolds not just in the Gospel story itself, but in the framed relationship between Dickens and Walter. Early on, Dickens, irritated by Walter’s misbehavior during a performance, disciplines him—perhaps too harshly. While he doesn’t strike Walter, his words cut deep, leaving his son chastised and dispirited. “Behavior has consequences,” Dickens reminds him as he confiscates Walter’s toy sword.
But the consequences don’t just fall on Walter. Dickens feels the sting of his own anger, and The King of Kings captures that parental struggle many of us know too well—the fine line between discipline and discouragement. Eve shared her memories of cooling-off periods as a child—times when discipline was delayed, not just for the child’s sake, but for the parent’s emotional restraint.
Ephesians 6:4 speaks directly to this balance:
Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. “Honor your father and mother” (this is the first commandment with a promise), “that it may go well with you and that you may live long in the land.” Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord. (Ephesians 6:1-4)
And Colossians 3:21 echoes:
Children, obey your parents in everything, for this pleases the Lord. Fathers, do not exasperate your children, so that they won’t become discouraged. (Colossians 3:20-21)
These passages remind us that discipline is about restoration, not retribution.
For me, this theme tied powerfully into the substitutionary atonement scene—where Walter sinks into the water, and Christ takes his place. While Walter faces consequences for his actions, Jesus ultimately bears the weight of those consequences. I felt the whole film built toward that moment, showing that the greatest consequence of our sin—separation from God—was overcome at the cross.
Daniel brought a thoughtful reflection here. He noted that while consequences are necessary, The King of Kings also shows the beauty of restoration. Dickens doesn’t leave Walter crushed—he restores the relationship, returning the sword, and then, in telling the story, teaches Walter that the sword isn’t needed after all.
Though The King of Kings softens the call to repentance, it paints a vivid picture of Jesus as the substitute, reinforcing Romans 3:23-24—that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by His grace.”
But now, apart from the law, the righteousness of God has been revealed, attested by the Law and the Prophets. The righteousness of God is through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe, since there is no distinction. For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. God presented him as the mercy seat by his blood, through faith, to demonstrate his righteousness, because in his restraint God passed over the sins previously committed. God presented him to demonstrate his righteousness at the present time, so that he would be just and justify the one who has faith in Jesus. (Romans 3:21-26)
He made the one who did not know sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. (2 Corinthians 5:21)
The King of Kings opens the door to deeper conversations for parents and grandparents. After the credits roll, ask the kids: What’s the moral of the story?
Conclusion
The King of Kings offers a beautifully crafted, reverent retelling of Jesus’ life, framed within a child’s imagination. Together, we explored its messianic hero parallels, the power of storytelling, and the delicate tension of representing Christ in media. We wrestled with the Second Commandment, shared our thoughts on artistic depiction, and acknowledged where the film succeeded in pointing to Christ—and where it softened the truth.
But ultimately, our reflections aren’t grounded in our opinions. They return to the Word of God. As Ephesians 6:17 reminds us, “Take…the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.” That is the true sword wielded by our King—the truth that divides soul and spirit (Hebrews 4:12), the weapon we are called to carry.
The King of Kings can serve as a springboard for deeper conversations, but Scripture must shape those discussions. Use it as a tool, but let God’s Word be the foundation.
If you haven’t yet grasped the truth that Christ took your place, bore your sin, and offered you freedom, please reach out. We’d love to talk to you about the hope found in Him.
Are You Just Watching? is listener supported. Special thanks to our current patrons: Isaias Santillano, Craig Hardee, Stephen Brown II, and David Lefton, for their generous support. We can't continue to share critical thinking for the entertained Christian without your financial help, so please head on over to our Patreon page and become one of our supporting patrons! What did you think of The King of Kings? We would like to know, even if just your reactions to the trailer or the topics we shared in this episode. Or what general critical-thinking and entertainment thoughts or questions do you have? Would you like to suggest a movie or TV show for us to give a Christian movie review with critical thinking?Please support the podcast!
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