A crown fit for this King, our Sacrifice. Our selfless Savior.
The image and concept of the thorny crown is powerful to me. As heirs of the King, I think our “crowns” are, also, thorns–in this present world. We’re not here for glory in any human sense. Our “success” will look very different. It will be counter-cultural, or even unapparent.
The story of the thorny crown is a provocative one:
Imagine a mighty and good king coming from another place, and he is “welcomed” with the “honor” of huge, piercing barbs smashed down into his head.
This strange irony is such a perfect picture of our rejection of God and his ways. We pick our own way. Absorb the idea that God paid for your foolishness.
What is called The Triumphal Entry is celebrated each year, on Palm Sunday, a week before the celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ (most often called Easter, which a a variation of the name of a pagan god, but I digress.)
It’ll take you 45 seconds to read the short donkey ride story here: Matthew 21:1-9.
The crowds heading to Jerusalem for Passover feasting were caught up in the pandemonium of this celebrity sensation–a peasant healer from the boondocks, who had just raised a dead man, four days after he died (his friend Lazarus in the town of Bethany).
Hopes were high that this miracle-worker could liberate the Jews from their Roman oppressors. Some 250,000 lambs would be roasted, likely feeding more than 2 and a half million people during this festival. So, the throng was indeed enormous.
In virtual mob hysteria, hopeful Jews stripped nearby palm trees of their fronds, and threw their coats on the road to pave this unorganized and roisterous parade. A hundred years prior, war hero Simon Maccabaeus was welcomed in the same manner after his conquest over Syria. Now Jews again shouted “Hosanna”, which means “save we pray”. They yelled out the call from Psalm 118:26–a song of deliverance, conquest, and rescue.
Several times previously, Jesus had escaped the momentum of enthralled crowds who hoped to make him their rebel king by sheer force of mob will. Desperation was in the air. They longed for rescue, but Jesus was not that kind of King. He rebuffed all attempts at typical authority, political prestige, religious posturing, or military command. As he put it to Roman authorities, “My kingdom is not of this world.” He came mildly, to be a selected as our king of hearts, and to have victory over our sin and brokenness–reconciling us again to our Creator, a holy and good God.
Fulfilling a prophecy from Zechariah, hundreds of years earlier (Zechariah (9:9)), Jesus rode a plodding little colt of a donkey into the city. The colt was encouraged to continue by keeping its mother in the lead.
For Jews, the donkey was considered a conveyance for the noble classes, and ridden by Jewish priests or nobility. It was also a helpful metaphor to display the Prince of Peace–the true Savior. It drew a sharp contrast against the mood of the raucous Zealots.
This type of entry marked a vast difference from the Roman commanders who would ride in celebratory victory pageants atop their mighty war horses. Wagons full of pillaged gold and silver rode along with the procession through grand Roman archways. Musicians and carriers of fragrant incense would accompany the cavalcade. Captives and conquered enemy honchos were chained and paraded –all for vanity’s sake.
Many Jews hoped for the dream-Messiah of the military persuasion. That was the glory they wishes for.
Jesus was misunderstood in his entry. The mob would show its intrinsic fickleness when, just days later, in bitter disappointment, they would turn on their would-be Messiah, screaming “Crucify him! We have no king but Caesar!” to the local Roman governor, Pilate.
I have a spiritual challenge to give you this weekend. It is to respond in word and deed to this surprising action of God, in human form.
In Christian circles, this season is sometimes called, Holy Week. It has nothing to do with the week itself, but rather it refers to setting aside time to recount the stories and consider this Prince of Peace: his nature; his life and ministry to the needy, poor, and sick; his unjust execution; and the power of his Resurrection to life, witnessed by over 500 people.
Once confronted with this story that changed the world, each must ask, “Who is this Jesus?” and “How must I respond?” Are we willing to give our heart to this lowly yet almighty King, the Prince of Peace?
How will the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the Messiah change who you become? It is your saving grace.
Please share your thoughts, or Palm Sunday & Eastertide reflections.
What’s the best way to spread news in the Christian community?
That’s easy. Before you share news, just say it’s a prayer request.
(No one likes to feel left out. And for most people knowing and sharing news feels empowering. Cloaked with the term “prayer request” spreading news verges darn near to righteous.)
Even if it’s something horrible, you can say something like, “I probably shouldn’t say this, but, you know Peggy? She’s going through a lot right now. Her teen flipped out and hit her in the face yesterday. It gave her a bloody nose. It’s so sad. Really pray for her. They’re really struggling. Oh, and don’t tell anyone I told you, okay?”
What will happen is that everyone will know, but no one will admit to anything. It will like like the Spirit told them, and suddenly everyone will know everything, but, miraculously, nobody has betrayed any trust.
Peggy? She’ll get weird and awkward glances, and a few close friends will ninja hug her because they’re not sure what else to do, but want to do something overt to show they support her. Peggy will wonder who knows, and how it got out and about. Smilers and huggers will relieve their guilt from spreading around her business behind her back.
(Yes. This was not a “how-to”…just a bit sarcastic.)
Does this ring true?
Share your input: If someone says, “I probably shouldn’t say this…” what are some good ways to respond?
Ever wanted to have the basics of Christianity right in front of you? Try this:
Theology is simply “the study of God” or discourse involving the Supreme Being. Theology can be very academic, but the truth is everyone undertakes theology, even the atheist. In the case of the atheist, God is still considered, because in the simplest of ways he is described in the effort to not believe in him.
We all have a framework of theology that supports the life we live out. Sometimes overlooking the creation and development will lead to hefty inconsistencies when the theological framework is “fleshed out”. False ideas about who God is and what he is doing make this so.
As we consider God, and undertake knowing him, and knowing about him, we may do well to think of this effort as the creation of an armature. A sculptor fashions a wire armature, before the clay or other material is added on. The framework holds fast and supports the malleable materials needed to literally flash out the rest.
When we allow God to be the sculptor, we can get a bit more out of the way, so he can fashion us in his image. Notice the process of this artist below and the 3 steps depicted to create something true to life.
