Palm Sunday

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Hello and God bless you!

Our Lord and our God, This Sunday You will ride into Jerusalem – the King on a donkey. You will be hailed and praised. It will look as though Jerusalem has finally got it right. But it will not be so. We will kill You, and You know it. Help us as we approach Your Scripture. Lord, it is hard to read.

When they had approached Jerusalem and had come to Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, then Jesus sent two disciples, 2 saying to them, “Go into the village opposite you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied there and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to Me. 3 “If anyone says anything to you, you shall say, ‘The Lord has need of them,’ and immediately he will send them.” 4 This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet: 5 “say to the daughter of Zion, ‘behold your king is coming to you, gentle, and mounted on a donkey, even on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden.'” 6 The disciples went and did just as Jesus had instructed them, 7 and brought the donkey and the colt, and laid their coats on them; and He sat on the coats. 8 Most of the crowd spread their coats in the road, and others were cutting branches from the trees and spreading them in the road. 9 The crowds going ahead of Him, and those who followed, were shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David; blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord; Hosanna in the highest!” (Matt. 21:1-9 NAU)

Lord, we have read Your Word. Now we wait before You. Speak, Lord, Your servant is listening.

King of Kings and Lord of Lords, Christ, Son of the Living God, may I confess something? There is a part of me that hates Palm Sunday. Perhaps like no other day except Good Friday, Palm Sunday shows me my sin. There simply is no excuse for it. And so, it is just like my sin. There simply is no excuse for it. Only days earlier in Bethany, You raised Lazarus from the dead after four days. Before that, for about 3 ½ years there were so many unique miracles, springing from Your infinite compassion and integrity. Truly You were an unblemished and spotless lamb. On Good Friday the crowds were put to the test and when the fire got too hot they turned their back on You. They were double-minded at best. Am I? Is it I, Lord?

What scares me, is that when the people cried “Hosanna” they meant it – or rather they thought they meant it. But they did not mean it at all. Their own sin caused them to be self-deceived. Lord, how many times have I told You I love You? How many times have I offered my life to You? How often have I said, “Here am I, send me”? Lord, how many times have I bowed and called You, “Lord?” I see the persecuted church around the world. Some remain faithful and some run. What would I do? Do I really know? Like the crowds, I cry, “Hosanna” to You. But what is in my heart, really? Lord, You know. And I? Do I really know?

Lord, what shall I do? I who shunned Your Cross must now run to it and embrace You. There are no other real options. The Cross from which I ran has become Your great instrument of mercy. Lord, it is all too much. All I can do, is pray, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon me, a sinner.”

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