Yesterday was Palm Sunday. Children waved palm branches made of straws and green construction paper while shouting “Hosannah!” Our church sang songs declaring “Hosannah!” and my heart said yes.
We read the scripture story and the picture was clear in my own imagination…dusty roads, baby donkey, green breezes of giant palms, deafening shouts. It was a parade of sorts. I saw in the crowd the man who had been healed of leprosy and the woman healed of her bleeding disorder. They were all smiles as they welcomed the one who comes in the name of the Lord. New found health shone from their faces and gratitude exuded in their every wave of a palm branch. I saw Peter’s mother in law holding her grandchildren up high enough to see Jesus and I saw the centurion with his daughter on his shoulders. They shouted, “Blessed is the one who is king over death!” And I was there, too; crying shouts of praise for the places in my life that have been changed. I was there. Hosannah!
But will I be there again in just 5 short days when the crowds turn angry and demand Jesus’ life?
Will I be there shouting, “Crucify!”?
