Palm Sunday

I planned to go to a church in Onyaki village this morning. Betty and Abella both asked if they could come and without thinking it through I said yes. Three of us on two bikes (the girls took turns riding on the back of mine), we headed out. A ride that generally takes me around 45 minutes turned into an hour and a half. But a great hour and a half.  There are three BIG hills between here and there and after climbing the first Betty was tired so we stopped to switch. While stopped, we saw some women, dressed for church, cutting branches. It’s Palm Sunday. As we set off again we got to talking about why the palms. Betty’s answer: Because it is Palm Sunday. Abella, always the more contemplative of the two, knew what I was asking but didn’t know the answer. So, as we labored up the next hill I talked about Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. As we traveled down the hot, dusty road I got to tell them of how the Jews were expecting a Messiah and they KNEW Jesus was it. They had seen His miracles and heard His words. Now he was making his way to the capital. It seemed like now was the time! Hosanna! Here comes the King! They were excited. He was going to overthrow the Romans and take power! Right? Well, that is what they thought. Jesus rode into the city like a King. Their cloaks spread out, I understand now, as I have traveled on dusty roads. Their branches waving.  The breeze and shade was probably nice. Betty and Abella could picture it, I think, and me too. In a way I had never before. 

We reached the top of the next hill and they needed to switch again. And there were some palm trees off the side of the road. So we walked and climbed and cut some good branches. Just like they would have as Jesus passed through.  As we got back on our bikes, tying the branches on the back of Abella’s, we started to talk about why the disciples were all on their way to the city with so many other people. Betty said it was because Jesus was going to die for their sins and they wanted to watch. I would have chuckled if I wasn’t trying to breath up the last hill with her on the back of my bike. I explained Passover, why they would be celebrating it, why it was such a big deal to them.  How because their houses were covered in the blood of the lamb they were spared the punishment of the rest. How Jesus was going to be that Passover sacrifice this time. I’m not sure they got it but it was pretty profound to me as I watched goats cross the road in front of us and REALLY SAW parts of the story for the first time.

We reached church. They were dancing and worshiping and waving their palm fronds. We joined right in. And the celebration hit me stronger than ever before. I was asked to share “a small word” with the congregation and it just came out. The wonder of our worship this morning.   I explained that I was so excited to worship with them and how we could REALLY celebrate. Unlike those who worshiped with palm fronds on the first palm Sunday we knew the rest of the story. The Jews back then celebrated Jesus as he entered the city. Then 5 short days later it was all over.  He had been arrested, tried and hung up to die. What was there to celebrate? This dead man isn’t going to overthrow the Roman empire. He couldn’t be the king they were waiting for. Their hoped dashed. Their celebration for nothing. But as I joined our celebration this morning we know! He was not just king over Jerusalem, not just overthrowing the Romans, not just for the Jews. We are celebrating a King who is eternal! Who is overthrowing all sin, all wickedness, all despair! Because of that death that was devastation to those who were hoping for an earthly kingdom we have an eternal, heavenly kingdom! Hosanna! Now is the time! Here comes the King! We shouldn’t be able to contain our excitement!