Palm Sunday

It wasn’t long before the figure approaching the city began to be recognized by those standing by the road.  We all shouted, “Hosanna!  This is the man who’s gonna save us all!”  And it was.

Then just days later, there we were as his fate was decided.  And we shouted, “Crucify him!  This is the man we think should die!”  And it was.

And none of it should have happened.  But all of it had to.  And he didn’t have to die for us.  But he did.  He didn’t just die for humanity as a good-in-general unified whole, but for each one of us, individually, on our worst day, when we most wanted to get away from him.  When we would laugh at him for the deed instead of being grateful.  When I think of it that way, it’s kind of a miracle.  No wonder he rose again three days later.

I wonder what he did with his disciples during these last few days before his death.  He knew it was coming; they probably had no idea.  Did they notice any sadness in his smile?  Did he try to make every day the best day ever while they wondered what the big deal was?  Did life go on normally for them?  Does life go on normally for us?

Well, we’ve got a few days left.  He’s trying to make them the best days ever.  Until the end.

Until the end.

2 thoughts on “Palm Sunday

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