Palm Sunday

I read Matthew 21:1-11, Mark 11:11, Luke 19: 41-44, in this order.

Why, I wonder, do all of those people suddenly decide to glorify Jesus this day in Jerusalem?

The answer turns out to be quite simple: Lazarus. The raising of Lazarus from the dead has sent shock waves throughout the region around Bethany. As masses of people pour in to Jerusalem, word spreads like wildifire. Surely this is the long-awaited deliverer from the hated Roman oppressors.

It is the only time Jesus allows a public demonstration of praise.

I close my eyes and try to picture the bright heat of midday, the growing excitement of Jesus’ companions as they near the city. A great, distant, pulsing noise of thousands of voices shouting, shouting. Then He is on the donkey, like an Old Testament judge. He is passing through forests of palm branches, that ancient symbol of rejoicing. It is a wild, ear-splitting, euphoric scene.

His destination is the massive, marble steps that lead to the Temple – the indescribably beautiful Temple. Mark tells us that, rather eerily, Jesus dismounts, enters, looks around, and leaves.

Palm Sunday, as it turns out, is not just about the Triumphal Entry.

It is about the King who knows the heart of man. Many of these same voices will be screaming for His death within the week. You know me, O God. Is my worship genuine?

It is about the Temple where the courtyard is now a marketplace. He knows what He must do the next day. Idols? Strongholds? In my heart? Do, O Lord, what You must do.

And finally, it is about Jerusalem. He pauses that evening on a hill overlooking His beloved, doomed city, and weeps. The armies of Titus will encamp one day on that very hill, bringing unspeakable destruction. Prepare me, O God,  for YOUR coming.

King. Savior. Yes.


One response to this post.

  1. Thank you Sister Deb, beautifully written! Hosanna to our King!


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