Palm Sunday
What always strikes me about Palm Sunday is the thought of how Jesus felt riding into Jerusalem, hailed, bowed down to, cheered on and honored as a king, as the King He is. When I think of Him, riding on that donkey, gazing at the crowd, the smiling cheering faces and knowing that they would turn ugly and cruel in so few days . . .
How would that feel?
Would you turn bitter? Would you look out at that crowd and feel your heart turn to stone, to hate the faces smiling at you for the evil they would call for so soon? The people were hypocrites -- shallow, ungrateful, mercurial . . . the typical "mob," so easily swayed.
And yet . . . we are still that way toward Jesus. We say, "Oh Jesus, you are the King. I am sorry I offended you. I won't do it again! You are the one I love. You are the one I will follow." And Jesus, He listens and loves us, knowing the entire time that we will fall again, that we will call for His crucifixion tomorrow. But He loves us, embraces us, accepts the prayers and weak, insincere love we offer Him. He is not bitter. He does not hold anything back from loving us. He does not reserve any part of Himself to protect Him from the hurt of rejection that He must know will come. He embraces all that hurt.
Then, we sin again. The cross for Jesus . . . again. Hypocrites, we are. Weak, oh so weak. And yet He loves on, and waits, like the Forgiving Father watching from his highest window for his prodigal son, for us to return to Him again.
How would that feel?
Would you turn bitter? Would you look out at that crowd and feel your heart turn to stone, to hate the faces smiling at you for the evil they would call for so soon? The people were hypocrites -- shallow, ungrateful, mercurial . . . the typical "mob," so easily swayed.
And yet . . . we are still that way toward Jesus. We say, "Oh Jesus, you are the King. I am sorry I offended you. I won't do it again! You are the one I love. You are the one I will follow." And Jesus, He listens and loves us, knowing the entire time that we will fall again, that we will call for His crucifixion tomorrow. But He loves us, embraces us, accepts the prayers and weak, insincere love we offer Him. He is not bitter. He does not hold anything back from loving us. He does not reserve any part of Himself to protect Him from the hurt of rejection that He must know will come. He embraces all that hurt.
Then, we sin again. The cross for Jesus . . . again. Hypocrites, we are. Weak, oh so weak. And yet He loves on, and waits, like the Forgiving Father watching from his highest window for his prodigal son, for us to return to Him again.
Comments