“Go to the village ahead of you, and just as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, which no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ tell him, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here shortly.’” (Mark 11:2-3).

It occurs to me this night that as we stand on the edge of a new week with Jesus, we do so with the same words of instruction spoken over us that were spoken over the disciples nearly 2000 years ago.

To go ahead into the village and to find a colt for Jesus. Not for his possession, but rather for his procession. For his entrance into a world that needs to know its Savior cometh. That the long ago and faraway mention of a Palm Sunday parade is just as real and vital today as it was back then. Jesus is still in the habit of mingling with his children. The stage may have changed, but the stakes haven’t.

Eternity still hangs in the balance. There is yet a need for his exposure, for his truth to make entrance in the hearts of a generation whose hearts are hungering for the redemption of a cross and the resurrection from a tomb. Palms and waving branches are not meant for the isolation of a calendared Easter. They are the worthy proclamation of our faith. We may not carry them in the streets of Jerusalem, but we are called to carry them into the streets of our tomorrows.

Our workplaces;
Our homes;
Our schools;
Our hospitals;
Our meals;
Our phone calls;
Our e-mails;
Our churches;
Our meetings;
Our interactions;
Our interruptions.

Wherever our feet land becomes the worthy soil of our long-standing tradition. An ancient understanding that supersedes pageantry to become the stage where the King makes his entrance and where his disciples stand aside to allow him his moment in the light.

Go, my friends, make the necessary preparations in your heart to present our Lord and Savior to the world this day. We are the living conduits of his grace and mercy—the vessels he uses to make his entrance into the hearts and lives of those who fill our daily routine. It doesn’t make good sense to choose us, for I imagine that most of us have failed along these lines throughout our journey with Jesus.

But the gift of a new day is knowing that we’ve been given a few more moments to live our faith better, to wave our palms higher, and to present Christ bigger. When the world asks us (for there are almost always a few questions surrounding an unexpected parade) why we are doing this, may the answer of our hearts, speak the courage of our belief…

The Lord needs it, and we need to do it for him.

For him.

Let the branches of our celebration wave in honor of our King. Carry him well, share him liberally, and celebrate the entrance of his love into your life with all the fullness your heart can hold. May the hosanna of your witness and the hosanna of mine blend in chorus to be the sweet music of heaven announcing Christ’s arrival to his created people. I’ll meet you on the streets of Jerusalem this week. As always…

peace for the journey,

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