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Category: Holy Week

We cry “Hosanna!” now more than ever

Today is Palm Sunday.

This is the day thay marks Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey.

The story is found in Matthew 21:7-9:

They brought the donkey and the colt and placed their cloaks on them for Jesus to sit on. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!”

“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”

“Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

Matthew was intentional to mention the donkey that Jesus rode in on. He was connecting this event to a prophecy written by the prophet Zechariah hundreds of years before:

Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey. (Zechariah 9:9)

Palm Sunday is typified by churches across America lining children along the sanctuary’s center aisle waving palm leaves cut out of green construction paper and shouting “Hosanna!” to a bearded man walking between them dressed in a white robe and a purple sash.

There always has to be a purple sash.

I have fond memories of those Palm Sunday performances.  My acting debut was as one of those kids lining the aisle waving my paper leaf so hard it tore before Jesus could reach the pulpit. I played one of the branch wavers for many years.

Unfortunately, I never got the lead. I never got to play Jesus.

Surely, it had nothing to do with my acting skills. Perhaps it was because I didn’t sport a beard. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact I was five years old.

However, true to the performing arts, I as a budding child actor was having trouble trying to figure out my character’s motivation. I only had one line that needed to be shouted over and over again: Hosanna.

What does this even mean? It seems like a pretty important word.

Hosanna only appears twice in the New Testament: once in Matthew and once in Mark. It is a Greek translation from the Hebrew word Hoshi’a na. The root word hoshi’a serves as a basis for such names as Elisha (the name given to my great nephew), Hosea, Joshua, and others.

Hoshi’a simply means “salvation.” Those names listed above mean “God is my salvation.”

Salvation. Salvation in the highest.

The children lining the church aisle, the people lining the streets in Jerusalem that day were all crying out for salvation.

“Save us.”

But it goes even deeper. At the end of the word hoshi’a, is attached the tiny word na.

That seems relatively insignificant.

I assure you, it is not.

Together, those words mean “Save us please.”

But It is not just a monotone liturgical chant, but a cry of absolute desperation: “Please! save us!”

The Jews at the time were violently oppressed by Rome. The religious leaders did little more than try to make a tense peace with them. The Jews had little hope. God was the only one who could save them from the world’s superpower.

This is exactly what he came to do.

It’s odd to think that, in a manner of days, those very same people would be yelling, “Crucify!”

How quickly things change.

We want to put to death the very one who could save us.

This last week has been a very hard week as a nation. Following a horrible massacre at Covenant Christian School in Nashville, Tennessee, in which woman who identified as trans murdered six individuals, three of whom were only nine years old, the nation reeled.

We saw pure brokenness, evil unleashed on the innocent. We cried at the mayhem and loss.

Hosanna, Lord! Please save us!

Then, within hours, we rejected the Savior and shouted: “We reject prayers. We reject his power and salvation. If God was good he would have stopped this. We need action! Only government legislative action can stop the murders.”

As if any government policy can actually change the human heart.

Honestly, I have troubling trusting a government that bends reality back so far that it makes the shooter the victim. Instead of helping the nation grieve and supporting the Nashville community, the president declares Friday National Trans Awareness Day.

The government don’t have our best interests at heart, only their agenda. And they are not beyond pushing its own citizens out of the way. Government will not and cannot fix human nature. Government is essentially broken human nature on steroids. Given the choice between prayer and policy, I’ll take prayer any time.

So what is Jesus saving us from? When Zechariah prophesied Israel’s king coming to them on a donkey, he also mentioned all that this king will do:

“He will proclaim peace to the nations. His rule will extend from sea to sea and from the River to the ends of the earth. As for you, because of the blood of my covenant with you, I will free your prisoners from the waterless pit.

Return to your fortress, you prisoners of hope; even now I announce that I will restore twice as much to you.” (Zechariah 9:9b-12)

The solution to evil is Jesus, the only source of peace. It is not “Jesus and…” and we’re arrogant to assume it is. Human solutions to sin sound more like what Satan told Adam and Eve in the Garden.

Jesus is the only constant. And only Jesus can save us, from oppression and even  from ourselves.

Palm Sunday is the start of the Passion week which culminates in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ—the very foundation of Christianity.

This Holy Week, like those people lining the streets of Jerusalem shouting “Hosanna!” to the God-man on the donkey, we must shout “Hosanna!” once again. We must pay heed to God’s word to Solomon:

“if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land. (2 Chronicles 7:14)

The tragic event of this last week and the entrance into Holy Week has to result in a call to prayer.

We have to believe only our God can save us. There is no Plan B.

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Do Christians think Easter is still a big deal?

As I strolled down the seasonal aisle during my weekly grocery run, I stopped at the chocolate Easter bunnies, debating within the solid versus hollow bunny controversy.

Then something caught my eye.

Right next to the Easter bunnies, displayed in full glory, stood a chocolate cross.

This gave me pause.

I wasn’t sure what to think.

On one hand, I wanted to appreciate the acknowledgment of the spiritual aspect of Easter. On the other, I was unsettled by the thought of going into a diabetic coma after eating a chocolate molding of an ancient means of slow execution.

I actually don’t fault secular companies for trying to tap into a particular market. They don’t know the meaning of that symbol. They just see it perched on the top of a building or hung around a person’s neck and think: maybe they’ll buy this.

I mention the chocolate cross because it made me think of something else regarding the Christ-follower’s relationship to Easter.

Or more accurately, to Resurrection Sunday.

It seems that a lot—perhaps too many—of us Christians in America have a “been-there, done-that, got the tee-shirt.” At some point in our lives, we went forward, understood Jesus saved them from our sins, prayed the prayer, and moved forward with our lives.

We identify as Christians, often boldly so. We go to church on Sundays, tithe regularly, read the Bible sometimes, pray regularly, and “do for the least of these.”

Please don’t get me wrong: those are extremely important spiritual disciplines.

But often I feel like our passion—our fire—is missing. Do we really get excited about the Gospel did for us?

In a couple of weeks, while the rest of the world is celebrating Spring by mythical bunnies hiding colored eggs (and atheists think Christianity doesn’t make sense?!) and eating large portions of ham and scalloped potatoes, followers of Jesus will recognize the cross and resurrection of the Savior.

We prepare for it:

Invite family—check. Prepare our dinner—check. Don our Easter best—check. Go to church to give Jesus a “Yay, Jesus” for raising from the dead—check. Eat dinner—check.

Go to work on Monday.

But do we really get excited about Easter? Do we truly celebrate it? Does the anticipation light a fire in us—now, not just on Easter Sunday? Do we truly understand what Jesus did for us on that rugged cross? Or the power behind the empty tomb?

Or is it like the chocolate cross, where we acknowledge it, consume it, and move on with our lives?

Think about what those words “it is finished” mean. For the universe, for all the earth, for you and me.

When we read of the death of Jesus, we blow right over an obscure, yet very relevant detail:

At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split and the tombs broke open. The bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. (Matthew 27:51-52)

Have you ever considered this? Upon the death of Jesus, the curtain in the temple, separating the whole world from God was torn in two.

The curtain mentioned separated the Most Holy Place from the rest on the world. Inside the Most Holy Place was the room that held the Ark of the Covenant. In this room was the presence of God in his holiness. Only one person—the high priest—was allowed into the Most Holy Place only once a year during Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, to sprinkle blood onto the altar.

The priest’s ritual was extremely rigid. A rope would be tied around the priest’s waist, because if he failed to follow the precise instructions, he would fall dead. If the rope slackened, others would have to pull out the body because no one else could go in to retrieve it.

Keep in mind, this rigidity wasn’t about God waiting for someone to screw up so he could zap them.

Instead, it had to do with unholiness (which humanity has become since Genesis 3) entering into holiness. The two cannot coexist, just like darkness is unable to coexist with light.

The latter will always overpower.

The pure holiness of God cannot coexist with a fallen humanity.

Thus, the separation.

This is the curtain that was torn in two. With the cross, God made a way to allow us into the presence of his holiness.

And to make sure humanity remembers that it is his, not our doing, Matthew noted that the curtain tore in two from the top down.

From heaven to earth.

Isn’t that a big deal? Isn’t that something worth celebrating and getting excited about?

The death and resurrection of Jesus Christ is the very foundation of our faith. The entire Old Testament points to this moment. Forty days after the resurrection, the once-cowering disciples boldly preached Christ in the very city in which Jesus died. The same high priests and the same Roman guards were still present.

After hearing Peter preaching the resurrected Jesus, all they needed to do was go to the tomb and produce the body and Christianity is chopped off at the ankles. Even Paul himself writes: “And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith.” (1 Corinthians 15:14)

Shouldn’t we celebrate that magnificent event? Not just with the obligatory Easter Sunday service but more like the recent Asbury University revival—twenty-four hours a day, non-stop.

Like Christmas, Easter should be celebrated leading into the day, on the day itself, and well into the rest of the year.

Be hungry.

Not just for a chocolate cross.

But for one who overcame death.

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Why is the cross so hated around the world?

Last Tuesday, as I waited outside for someone to unlock my church for an event, a young couple walked by. As they passed, the woman read aloud, not once but twice, a sign on the door and gave a loud, exaggerated snort of derision. Then she actually turned around and came back to snap a photo of it. Judging from her sharp, sarcastic laughter, I was sure the photo would be posted online with a snarky comment — something about the stupidity of church people.

On the outside, I briefly made eye contact with her and gave her a nod and a smile.

But on the inside, I sensed the insult and felt a rush of snappy retorts. Thankfully, the Holy Spirit kept my pie-hole closed.

After she left, I turned to see what she had found so funny. The sign just said: “No woman’s [sic] Bible reading tonight.”

Other than the spelling error — “woman’s” instead of “women’s” — I could see nothing there to inspire her derisive laughter – much less a photo surely destined for social media.

I started to think that her actions had been for my benefit. I can read, and I’m sure her companion could too — so why did she feel the need to keep reading this sign aloud? And why was she so intent on mocking it that she retraced her steps to photograph it, right in front of me? I’m just a Christian who happened to be standing outside my church, waiting for someone to open it; I never did anything to her. Yet I really think she was making a dig against Christianity in my presence. Maybe it was something else, but I don’t think I misread her meaning.

Two days earlier, two ISIS terrorists had blown themselves up in Coptic churches in Egypt, killing forty-four and injuring many others. The worshipers in these churches were celebrating Palm Sunday, just as we were doing here.

Somehow, these two events seemed distantly related to me.

Let me be very clear. The mockery (if that’s what it was) I experienced on Tuesday is nothing compared to the horror and sorrow of the explosions in Egypt last Sunday. The two events aren’t even on the same scale.

But both events share a similar seed: a hatred for Jesus and the cross. Every other group now has defenders to be sure they are not mocked or persecuted; only Christians are still fair game. On one end of the spectrum, TV and movies virtually always portray Christians as naïve, bigoted idiots who contribute nothing to society. On the other end, we hear constant reports of the rape, torture, and slaughter of Christ-followers overseas. Christians are the last remaining scapegoat in cultures around the world.

Clearly, Jesus isn’t surprised by this hatred: “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first” (John 15:18, NIV). I’ve always wondered why this is so. Why does the world respond to Jesus with such hate and animosity?

If you ask non-Christians–and even some Christians–in the United States why, most will point to Christians themselves as the primary reason. They might say that Christians are too judgmental, or hypocritical, or filled with hate.

Fair enough. All Christ-followers are guilty of those things at one time or another. I know I certainly am. Sadly, I often beat myself up for saying or doing things that embarrass the cause of Christ. So this criticism against Christians is not unfounded.

But the same criticism also applies to pretty much everyone else on the planet. I can’t think of a single person who is not judgmental, hypocritical, or filled with hate. Welcome to humanity. 

No, I believe the hatred of the cross and its followers is something deeper.

Sure, the cross was a grisly torture device, designed to cause death in the most sadistic, pain-filled way possible. So to unbelievers, celebrating the cross naturally seems creepy and scandalous. To them, the whole bloody sacrifice thing is nauseating and worthy of scorn.

But even deeper: The cross confronts our idolatry. It threatens the god of Me. It exposes the fact that we are hopelessly lost and broken – and we cannot fix it.

We don’t want to think about that.

Ironically, we are so determined not to face our brokenness that we respond to this exposure with hatred, derision, and mockery. And in so doing, we silence the rest of the message: the freedom and redemption that comes through the cross.

Jesus’ death obliterated every obstacle between us and Almighty God. Through Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross, we receive the redemption that comes with it.

I can’t force the world to hear, understand, or accept this message. I can only reflect Jesus as best as I can to those around me.

Even so, it is likely the world will continue to hate my Savior and, by extension, me. We Christ-followers shouldn’t be disturbed by this hatred. Jesus warned us it would come, and you don’t have to delve too far into the daily news to see his warning fulfilled.

I am okay with this.

Because the world may treat Christians with hatred and scorn – but we have the cross. Without the cross we are broken, sinful, and inadequate. But with it, I pray that each of us may respond as Jesus did – with his authentic love and forgiveness in return.

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