Sweet Dreams, Scattered Flocks, and a King We Can Trust

If you were around in 1983, you might remember some of the must-have gadgets of the day: the fax machine, the Betamax video recorder, the Commodore 64. Most of them now gather dust in lofts and charity shops, long out of date.

But not everything ages badly. Some things remain as sharp today as when they first appeared. One of those, oddly enough, is the Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This).”

It’s a global hit now, but it was written from a place of pain. Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart had just broken up as a couple, their band had fallen apart, and they were broke. Lennox described the lyrics as “hopeless” and “nihilistic” — an honest snapshot of feeling battered and wondering how much worse life could get.

The song captures that sense of vulnerability:

Sweet dreams are made of this, Who am I to disagree? I travel the world and the seven seas, Everybody’s looking for something…

Then comes the stark diagnosis of a fractured world:

Some of them want to use you, Some of them want to get used by you, Some of them want to abuse you, Some of them want to be abused…

And finally, the refrain that everyone remembers:

Hold your head up, keep your head up, movin’ on…

A defiant, weary attempt to survive a world without reliable shepherds.

1983 and 2025: A World Still Searching

The world in 2025 is very different from the 1980s, yet strangely similar. Back then we saw riots in Brixton and Toxteth as communities pushed back against long-standing inequality and neglect. This summer we’ve seen unrest again — this time directed towards vulnerable groups like refugees and asylum seekers. The causes differ, but the deeper story is familiar: when people feel unprotected or unheard, frustration spills over.

Across the political spectrum, a sense of disappointment in leadership lingers. Some look back at the 1980s and feel let down. Others feel exactly the same about more recent governments. Different names, same feeling: leaders don’t always seem to steady or shepherd society as we hope.

At the same time, community life itself has thinned. More people feel isolated, scattered, or left to cope alone. Neighbourhood connections grow weaker; trust is harder to find. And while community frays, many of us retreat online, curating polished versions of our lives while privately feeling anxious and adrift.

It’s all very familiar: scattered people, fragile trust, shaky leadership.

And this is where Jeremiah steps onto the scene.

Jeremiah’s World: Turbulent, Uncertain, Familiar

Jeremiah lived through one of Judah’s most unstable periods — shifting from Assyrian to Egyptian to Babylonian control. Ordinary people bore the stress of forces far beyond their power. Community unravelled. Fear was everywhere.

And their leaders? They were supposed to be shepherds. Yet Jeremiah watched kings who were inconsistent, fearful, sometimes self-serving. Leaders who should have protected their people led them towards idolatry and insecurity instead.

So Jeremiah uses a powerful image of flock scattered because the shepherds have failed. People feel unanchored, unsure who to trust, unsure where the future lies. The emotional landscape is startlingly recognisable. Human hearts haven’t changed that much.

Eurythmics and Jeremiah: Same Diagnosis, Different Cure

In a strange way, Annie Lennox and Jeremiah agree on the problem. Both see a world where people feel used, scattered, anxious, and disappointed in leadership. Both describe communities thinning and trust collapsing. But they offer very different solutions.

For the Eurythmics, the answer is bleak but honest: Just keep going. Hold your head up. Survive.

It’s courageous — but exhausting. And four decades later, the cracks show. Community still feels thin. Leaders still falter. We still feel scattered. Gritting our teeth hasn’t fixed it.

Which raises the question: If “holding your head up” hasn’t healed us in 43 years… maybe we need something different.

Jeremiah’s Hope: A Shepherd We Can Trust

Jeremiah offers not resignation, but promise. God will provide a shepherd — a king — who truly cares. One who gathers the scattered, restores the broken, and leads with wisdom, justice, and righteousness.

In Hebrew he is called Messiah.In the Greek of the Septuagint, Christos — Christ.

And we know exactly where Jeremiah is pointing.

Jesus.

The King who enters our scattered world not to exploit, but to rescue. Not to use, but to heal. Not to scatter, but to gather.

Christ the King: Hope for Now and the Future

Christ the King Sunday reminds us that whatever our political mood, whatever our disappointment in human leadership — national, local, or even church — we have a King who does not fail.

Jesus is the one leader who truly embodies justice, righteousness, and compassion. The only shepherd who does not abandon his flock. The only King whose kingdom cannot be shaken.

We have hope for the future because Christ will come to make all things new.

But what about now?

We don’t get to vote often. We don’t choose our parents, our children, our vicars, our circumstances. Human leaders can’t be perfect — I certainly can’t, and you’d be disappointed if you expected me to be Jesus (not least with the quality of the wine!).

But we can do two things every single day:

1. Pray for those we rely on.

Ask God to shape their hearts with justice, humility, and righteousness. Pray for signs of Christ’s kingdom in their lives.

2. Pray that we may be trustworthy.

Wherever we hold responsibility — at home, at work, in church — ask for the grace to resemble our true King.

Because in the end, Christ the King Sunday isn’t sentimental. It’s a declaration of reality: that in a world of fragile shepherds and scattered communities, there is one King who is fully trustworthy. His name is Jesus. His kingdom is coming. And he never lets his flock go.