Palm Sunday for those who don’t know, is the beginning of Holy Week and commemorates Jesus riding triumphantly into Jerusalem on a donkey.
“Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” -Zechariah 9:9
I had a blessed Palm Sunday. Perhaps it began in bible study, when those words people say turn out to be just the precise words you really needed to hear and you realize they have absolutely no idea, no way of possibly knowing what is going on with you. And yet, the words were tailored just for you, unmistakable in how appropriate they were, how perfect and personal, and you realize something supernatural has just happened to you.
Or perhaps it was the Pastor who spoke of triumph, of our own personal Palm Sundays, the way Jesus goes riding in triumph right into our hearts.
Perhaps it was the sense of connection to other Christians all over the world, knowing that in every corner people were coming together to commemorate Palm Sunday, to mark Holy Week and welcome Jesus Christ.
There was just something special about the whole day, perhaps the paradox between hearing of the awful tragedy in Egypt, the persecution and murder of Coptic Christians, against the background of celebration, rejoicing, and triumph, but a triumph born of peace and humility.
We have Palm Sunday parade here, Christians come over from other areas, and have been for years now, a very sweet expression of solidarity and love, a willingness to shine some light in what is sometimes a very dark place for people.
Here in my little neck of the woods, the place I sometimes call the 9th circuit of hell, we came together, prayed for the those brothers and sisters murdered today for their faith, and in the midst of gusting wind and clouds, we lifted His name on high.