He stood at the top of the Mount of Olives, near Beth phage, looking down upon the city of Jerusalem. People were pouring in from all parts of Judah to celebrate the Jewish Feast of Passover. He and his company of men had come to do the same.
Nothing about the tranquil scene suggested the violent days to follow, but He knew. This entry into Jerusalem would be his last.
He had come to die.
He had warned his disciples of what lay ahead, but they hadn’t believed him. As far as they were concerned, they were all journeying to the same destination, working alongside him as He healed the sick from their infirmities. They would celebrate the annual rite together.
He sent two of his men into the city, telling them where to find a colt that He could ride. When approached by the animal’s owner they were to say the Master had need of him. As the pair entered the city, they found the donkey and everything else to be as He had said. As it always was.
They placed their cloaks on the colt and He sat on the animal’s back. As He entered Jerusalem, those who lined the streets threw down their clothing along with palm branches as He passed, the crowd shouting, “Hosanna! Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.”
A handful of days later, these well-wishers would turn on him. Their joyful shouts would change to taunts, their cheers to jeers, their excited acknowledgements of the Son of God to a hushed embarrassment.
But Jesus would triumph in the end. He would endure an excruciating death on a Roman cross, a burial in someone else’s tomb, and resurrection from the dead—a feat no one had ever before accomplished.
The Son of God had come to establish His authority on the world. The price for admission to become one of His? A childlike faith that He was who He claimed to be.
Acts 16:31: “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and You shall be saved.” So simple, many miss it.
Have a blessed Palm Sunday.