stones will cry out
On this Palm Sunday so long ago you were on top of your game, Jesus. You told the disciples to go get a colt and they obeyed. All you needed to do was speak and people jumped. As you descended into Jerusalem the crowds threw down their cloaks and shouted, “Blessed is the King!” Sure, there were a few skeptics who called on you to quiet the crowds, but you said, “If they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.” The mute stones of the earth would have risen up and proclaimed the Lordship of Jesus. What a day that must have been!
I count myself as one of your disciples, Jesus. I would have obediently gone to get the colt at your bidding. I would have waved my palm branch and bowed before you as you rode past. The disturbing question I must answer every Palm Sunday is what kind of disciple am I at the end of the week? You knew that most of those who proclaimed your kingdom that Sunday would disappear on the day of crucifixion. Some of them, no doubt, flipped from praise to cursing in a matter of a few days. Even the beloved disciples who were obedient on Palm Sunday, fled the garden on Maundy Thursday.
Why is it I so confidently profess my love for you, then abandon you? Why is it I pretend to be so committed only to desert you when times get difficult. Perhaps it’s because I don’t fully understand your kingdom. I, like the praisers on Palm Sunday, want you to make my life easier, more convenient. I want you to sit on a throne and banish all suffering. You, however, descended into Jerusalem intent on sacrifice and death. Just the opposite of what I desire.
Remind me today, Lord, that you didn’t descend to earth in order that my life might never again know sorrow. Rather you came down to show me the way into sorrow. You wept for Jerusalem. You sacrificed your life for me and humanity. I desire that your way be my way. Teach me to weep for the cities. Show me how to offer myself in service. Remind me to join the rocks in praising you whether it’s Palm Sunday or Good Friday. Amen.
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