PALM SUNDAY PARADE
J. Grant Swank, Jr.
The character of Jesus comes through in bold relief when riding on the back of a donkey’s colt. It’s the first day of the week. Jesus rides into the Holy City.
It’s His city, though it rejects Him, by and large. "He came unto His own and His own received Him not."
It was this city over which Jesus cried, saying He would have yearned to take Jerusalem to His heart as a hen feather-covers her chicks. But the inhabitants, starting with Temple guard, would not hearken to Jesus’ invitation.
Nevertheless, Jesus’ character remains loving and kind, hungry for a people who resisted His embrace. On that Sunday we refer to as "Palm Sunday," Jesus entered the busyness as some hailed Him as King of Israel.
Who were these? No one really knows, except they obviously were ones who had faith in His mission. They had heard Him preach, teach and watched Him heal the sick. They caught at least that much of His message.
Therefore, they cried out in joy that He was the long-awaited One, the Monarch portrayed by prophets of old.
Jesus, humbled, climbed atop the beast. With that, peasants threw their shawls over dirt paths, as if honoring Him with a royal carpet. He, the Servant. He, the Sacrifice to be slain. He the young man from other side of the tracks — Galilee — Nazareth, to be exact.
He was on His way to death by crucifixion. Mixed with the confusion were singing and shouting, smiles galore and festivity in the air. "Praise God! Bless the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hail to the King of Israel."
Humble Jesus. He made the city. He molded the people. He breathed the air. He brought everything into something from nothing. He, the embodiment of the Second Person of the Trinity, was the agent of creation from the very start. He, Alpha, was source of existence itself.
Yet to the city He humbled Himself, even to their bloody scheme. Yet to the people, including the murder-hungry, He placed Himself upon their wood piece. Yet to the air He breathed His moan: "Father, why have you forsaken Me?"
The character of Jesus comes through in bold relief when riding on the back of a donkey’s colt. It’s the first day of the week. Jesus rides into the Holy City.
Yes, He owned the city yet He bowed to its free wills, allowing them to choose their own eternal destinies by receiving Him as Savior or rejecting Him as refuse.
How interesting that He does the same with us. He presents Himself as lowly of heart, knocking upon our hearts’ doors. Will we open to His saving grace? Or will we seal the door tightly shut, turning to our own nuisances to call them "salvation?"
Jesus was not betrayed by all of Jerusalem. There was the righteous remnant. There were those who clung closely to His frame upon the cross. They hunkered down in its shadows as blood dropped from His body. They wept. They wept until there were no more tears.
They groaned as their bones ached in travail. They peered into a black sky that Friday, wondering what in heaven’s name was going on with their Kind One. From noon till 3 o’clock, the sun blinked out its light. Nighttime in mid-day fell upon the world as the remnant wrestled against hell’s doubt grip.
However, even though the power cliques of politic and religion won the day with His murder upon a rugged cross, there were still the lowly who believed. They believed against all logic. They trusted against all that was visible. They were the fools of faith, if there were ever fools of faith. They were those who had lost their heads to save their hearts.
And so it is today. The remnant is regarded as the stupid, provincial, intolerant, stubborn and dull of senses. The remnant is not posh nor politically pleasing. The remnant is considered coarse and unkempt, sometimes riff-raff and tawdry. Yet the remnant, no matter, clings to the blood stains, the wood, the illogic of it all. In that, they remain true to the close and then some.
The character of Jesus comes through in bold relief when riding on the back of a donkey’s colt. It’s the first day of the week. Jesus rides into the Holy City.
He heard the shouts of acclamation; but He would not put trust in their smiles, shouts, applause. He lived for only one daily siting. It was the will of the Father. "I came not to do My will but the will of the Father." How long does applause last? How fleeting are shouts of approval? If ever anyone knew the brevity of the fickle it was Jesus.
In His character sterling was His fine-tuned allegiance to the supreme — Father’s will only. "Thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven." Even as mortal as well as divine, living out the doubting fears of the mortal, when He cried, "Father, why have you forsaken Me?" he kept true to the Father’s will. He did not renege. He did not recant. Even through hell’s darkest hour, Jesus remained loyal to the unseen but eternally secure Father’s will.
Yes, the character of Jesus comes through in bold relief when riding on the back of a donkey’s colt. After all, it was the Palm Sunday Parade.
Thank you, Jesus.
For more: http://conservativeposts.us/ <http://conservativeposts.us/>
The character of Jesus comes through in bold relief when riding on the back of a donkey’s colt. It’s the first day of the week. Jesus rides into the Holy City.
It’s His city, though it rejects Him, by and large. "He came unto His own and His own received Him not."
It was this city over which Jesus cried, saying He would have yearned to take Jerusalem to His heart as a hen feather-covers her chicks. But the inhabitants, starting with Temple guard, would not hearken to Jesus’ invitation.
Nevertheless, Jesus’ character remains loving and kind, hungry for a people who resisted His embrace. On that Sunday we refer to as "Palm Sunday," Jesus entered the busyness as some hailed Him as King of Israel.
Who were these? No one really knows, except they obviously were ones who had faith in His mission. They had heard Him preach, teach and watched Him heal the sick. They caught at least that much of His message.
Therefore, they cried out in joy that He was the long-awaited One, the Monarch portrayed by prophets of old.
Jesus, humbled, climbed atop the beast. With that, peasants threw their shawls over dirt paths, as if honoring Him with a royal carpet. He, the Servant. He, the Sacrifice to be slain. He the young man from other side of the tracks — Galilee — Nazareth, to be exact.
He was on His way to death by crucifixion. Mixed with the confusion were singing and shouting, smiles galore and festivity in the air. "Praise God! Bless the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hail to the King of Israel."
Humble Jesus. He made the city. He molded the people. He breathed the air. He brought everything into something from nothing. He, the embodiment of the Second Person of the Trinity, was the agent of creation from the very start. He, Alpha, was source of existence itself.
Yet to the city He humbled Himself, even to their bloody scheme. Yet to the people, including the murder-hungry, He placed Himself upon their wood piece. Yet to the air He breathed His moan: "Father, why have you forsaken Me?"
The character of Jesus comes through in bold relief when riding on the back of a donkey’s colt. It’s the first day of the week. Jesus rides into the Holy City.
Yes, He owned the city yet He bowed to its free wills, allowing them to choose their own eternal destinies by receiving Him as Savior or rejecting Him as refuse.
How interesting that He does the same with us. He presents Himself as lowly of heart, knocking upon our hearts’ doors. Will we open to His saving grace? Or will we seal the door tightly shut, turning to our own nuisances to call them "salvation?"
Jesus was not betrayed by all of Jerusalem. There was the righteous remnant. There were those who clung closely to His frame upon the cross. They hunkered down in its shadows as blood dropped from His body. They wept. They wept until there were no more tears.
They groaned as their bones ached in travail. They peered into a black sky that Friday, wondering what in heaven’s name was going on with their Kind One. From noon till 3 o’clock, the sun blinked out its light. Nighttime in mid-day fell upon the world as the remnant wrestled against hell’s doubt grip.
However, even though the power cliques of politic and religion won the day with His murder upon a rugged cross, there were still the lowly who believed. They believed against all logic. They trusted against all that was visible. They were the fools of faith, if there were ever fools of faith. They were those who had lost their heads to save their hearts.
And so it is today. The remnant is regarded as the stupid, provincial, intolerant, stubborn and dull of senses. The remnant is not posh nor politically pleasing. The remnant is considered coarse and unkempt, sometimes riff-raff and tawdry. Yet the remnant, no matter, clings to the blood stains, the wood, the illogic of it all. In that, they remain true to the close and then some.
The character of Jesus comes through in bold relief when riding on the back of a donkey’s colt. It’s the first day of the week. Jesus rides into the Holy City.
He heard the shouts of acclamation; but He would not put trust in their smiles, shouts, applause. He lived for only one daily siting. It was the will of the Father. "I came not to do My will but the will of the Father." How long does applause last? How fleeting are shouts of approval? If ever anyone knew the brevity of the fickle it was Jesus.
In His character sterling was His fine-tuned allegiance to the supreme — Father’s will only. "Thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven." Even as mortal as well as divine, living out the doubting fears of the mortal, when He cried, "Father, why have you forsaken Me?" he kept true to the Father’s will. He did not renege. He did not recant. Even through hell’s darkest hour, Jesus remained loyal to the unseen but eternally secure Father’s will.
Yes, the character of Jesus comes through in bold relief when riding on the back of a donkey’s colt. After all, it was the Palm Sunday Parade.
Thank you, Jesus.
For more: http://conservativeposts.us/ <http://conservativeposts.us/>
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