What a difference a week makes
Every single person on planet Earth right now can relate to how different the world can look in just a week. Most of us had at least an inkling that things might be changing long before we were relegated to our homes for weeks at a time. However, an inkling still doesn't prepare you appropriately for your entire world to be turned upside down.
Today is Palm Sunday. As a believer in Jesus Christ, today is the start of the greatest week in human history. In the Gospels, Palm Sunday is recorded as a time of great adulation and rejoicing. Jesus is entering Jerusalem (only he knows it will be for the last time.) On his way into the city, he tells his disciples to go ahead of him and find a donkey that is tied up. They are to take this donkey, and if the owner asks what they are doing, they are to tell him that the Lord needs it. (Side note: pretty sure that excuse would only work for Jesus) The disciples lay their cloaks on top of the donkey. Jesus climbs up on the donkey and begins to ride into Jerusalem. As he rides, people begin laying their cloaks on the ground, along with branches, in a 1st century "red carpet." How significant is this? Well, in this time, your cloak was a treasured possession. It was what you wore every day; what kept you warm at night. In the Old Testament particularly, the cord you tied your cloak with (and sometimes the colors of the cloak itself) identified not only who you were, but the tribe you belonged to. When the disciples were sent out by Jesus, they were only to bring the clothes on their backs (their cloak) and the sandals on their feet. Cloaks were a big deal. I'm trying to think of a modern parallel, and the closest thing I can come up with is laying your wedding dress on a horse trail for the horses to walk over. Why in the world would you do that? If the King, the Messiah, the Savior of the world was coming into the most important city in your faith for the Passover, and, you believe, to take his rightful throne, you would lay down your most treasured possessions to welcome him. Not only did they create a "carpet" for him to enter upon, the stood along the road and cheered.
In the Gospels, the people are recorded cheering, "Hosanna!" Hosanna is a word in Latin based on the Aramaic (the language of Jesus) word that means, "save, rescue, Savior." The people are shouting that Jesus is the one who will save them, rescue them; he's the Savior. "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" This declaration is recognizing that Jesus is coming to them as an official representative of the Lord. Jesus is entering Jerusalem to the shouts of people confirming who he is, what he represents. It's a first century ticker-tape parade of Jesus's awesomeness. How can I say that? Well, when the religious people start in telling Jesus that these people need to pipe down, Jesus's response is that if they don't praise him, the rocks will do it. In other words, Jesus's authority and identity will be praised and declared by any means necessary. If you silence the people, the rocks will sing for them. (Side note: I like to think of that as another Biblical mic drop.)
If you're at all familiar with the Bible, and the story of Jesus, you know that the cheers and adulation of Sunday turned into mocking and betrayal on Friday. Heralded as a King as he entered the city on Sunday, Jesus was crucified as a fraud on Friday. The same people who declared him Savior shouted "Crucify!" five days later. The events of Holy Week, as it is known in Christianity, are always poignant for me, but this year, they have a different significance. I know intimately the difference a week can make. On Saturday, Andrew, the kids, and I played Candy Land and Chutes & Ladders. We made plans for the following day. We laughed and joked. We talked about the future. On Friday, a mere six days later, I held Andrew's hand as he met his Savior face-to-face. The course of my entire life was changed in a week. I went from wife to widow. My children went from having two parents to one. Life, as I knew it, had zero resemblance to life of a week prior. Unless you have experienced it, emotional whiplash like that cuts you at the knees. Instead of finding silver linings, it becomes more common to expect everything else to crumble and fall. The most alarming part, for me, was that when multiple things in my life continued to crumble and fall (for weeks), it didn't surprise or shock me. In fact, I didn't have much of a reaction at all. Very rapidly, I began to struggle to process positive events, because positive events seemed so extra-ordinary. Sorrow and grief, "everything that can go wrong does go wrong"; I called that a day that ends in -y.
Two thousand (plus) years ago, Jesus Christ ushered in the most important week in history being praised and lauded. The people lining up along the road to praise him had no idea what would transpire a mere five days later. Jesus did. He knew the very people who were praising him as King would be shouting for his death less than a week later. He knew that his life would end in the most horrific, demeaning, cruel way possible in five short days. He knew it all, and he went anyway. Jesus understood the higher purpose that was at work; the entire reason for his life on Earth. Not even his disciples, his closest friends, his "posse" understood what was to come. The emotional whiplash that was to come over the next week would change the lives of millions, for eternity. And none of it was a surprise to Jesus.
So, as I move into this Holy Week, and remember, not only the joy, but the sacrifice, it has a different significance for me this year. My physical life was flipped upside down and inside out over the course of a week. And none of it was a surprise to Jesus. Because of the events of Holy Week, I know that Andrew is sitting at the feet of Jesus, raising his arms in praise, singing at the top of his lungs, dancing at the greatest rock concert of all. And none of it was a surprise to Jesus. He knew that Andrew would be celebrating the greatest event in human history in person this year, and for all eternity. It won't be possible to articulate the level of comfort and peace that I feel knowing that Jesus knew exactly what was going to happen, down to the minute, that Holy Week, and he did it anyway. He did it because he knew that he was the only one who could restore creation to the Creator. He was the only one who could perform the perfect sacrifice required to atone for sins. His death was the only way to bring life to a dying creation. Jesus lived Holy Week for me, for Andrew, for my children, for all of humanity. From the moment he became man, Jesus was living a death sentence. And he did it anyway. I wish I could say that, had I known how my life would change that week in November, I would have moved forward and accepted it. Let's be honest: if any of us really knew what our lives would be like, we couldn't do it. That's why God only knows, and that's enough. See, my Savior proved that, even though life can drastically change in only a week, and the course of human history altered completely, the result of that week can and will bring glory to God the Father, and indescribable joy will come from what looks (and feels) like complete defeat.
When I was a kid, we would sing a song on Palm Sunday (as we waved palm branches). It goes like this:
"Hosanna! Hosanna!
Hosanna in the highest!
Hosanna! Hosanna!
Hosanna in the highest!
Lord we lift up your name,
With hearts full of praise,
Be exalted, O Lord my God,
Hosanna in the highest!
Glory! Glory!
Glory to the King of Kings!
Glory! Glory!
Glory to the King of Kings!
Lord we lift up your name,
With hearts full of praise,
Be exalted, O Lord my God,
Glory to the King of Kings!"
Today is Palm Sunday. As a believer in Jesus Christ, today is the start of the greatest week in human history. In the Gospels, Palm Sunday is recorded as a time of great adulation and rejoicing. Jesus is entering Jerusalem (only he knows it will be for the last time.) On his way into the city, he tells his disciples to go ahead of him and find a donkey that is tied up. They are to take this donkey, and if the owner asks what they are doing, they are to tell him that the Lord needs it. (Side note: pretty sure that excuse would only work for Jesus) The disciples lay their cloaks on top of the donkey. Jesus climbs up on the donkey and begins to ride into Jerusalem. As he rides, people begin laying their cloaks on the ground, along with branches, in a 1st century "red carpet." How significant is this? Well, in this time, your cloak was a treasured possession. It was what you wore every day; what kept you warm at night. In the Old Testament particularly, the cord you tied your cloak with (and sometimes the colors of the cloak itself) identified not only who you were, but the tribe you belonged to. When the disciples were sent out by Jesus, they were only to bring the clothes on their backs (their cloak) and the sandals on their feet. Cloaks were a big deal. I'm trying to think of a modern parallel, and the closest thing I can come up with is laying your wedding dress on a horse trail for the horses to walk over. Why in the world would you do that? If the King, the Messiah, the Savior of the world was coming into the most important city in your faith for the Passover, and, you believe, to take his rightful throne, you would lay down your most treasured possessions to welcome him. Not only did they create a "carpet" for him to enter upon, the stood along the road and cheered.
In the Gospels, the people are recorded cheering, "Hosanna!" Hosanna is a word in Latin based on the Aramaic (the language of Jesus) word that means, "save, rescue, Savior." The people are shouting that Jesus is the one who will save them, rescue them; he's the Savior. "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" This declaration is recognizing that Jesus is coming to them as an official representative of the Lord. Jesus is entering Jerusalem to the shouts of people confirming who he is, what he represents. It's a first century ticker-tape parade of Jesus's awesomeness. How can I say that? Well, when the religious people start in telling Jesus that these people need to pipe down, Jesus's response is that if they don't praise him, the rocks will do it. In other words, Jesus's authority and identity will be praised and declared by any means necessary. If you silence the people, the rocks will sing for them. (Side note: I like to think of that as another Biblical mic drop.)
If you're at all familiar with the Bible, and the story of Jesus, you know that the cheers and adulation of Sunday turned into mocking and betrayal on Friday. Heralded as a King as he entered the city on Sunday, Jesus was crucified as a fraud on Friday. The same people who declared him Savior shouted "Crucify!" five days later. The events of Holy Week, as it is known in Christianity, are always poignant for me, but this year, they have a different significance. I know intimately the difference a week can make. On Saturday, Andrew, the kids, and I played Candy Land and Chutes & Ladders. We made plans for the following day. We laughed and joked. We talked about the future. On Friday, a mere six days later, I held Andrew's hand as he met his Savior face-to-face. The course of my entire life was changed in a week. I went from wife to widow. My children went from having two parents to one. Life, as I knew it, had zero resemblance to life of a week prior. Unless you have experienced it, emotional whiplash like that cuts you at the knees. Instead of finding silver linings, it becomes more common to expect everything else to crumble and fall. The most alarming part, for me, was that when multiple things in my life continued to crumble and fall (for weeks), it didn't surprise or shock me. In fact, I didn't have much of a reaction at all. Very rapidly, I began to struggle to process positive events, because positive events seemed so extra-ordinary. Sorrow and grief, "everything that can go wrong does go wrong"; I called that a day that ends in -y.
Two thousand (plus) years ago, Jesus Christ ushered in the most important week in history being praised and lauded. The people lining up along the road to praise him had no idea what would transpire a mere five days later. Jesus did. He knew the very people who were praising him as King would be shouting for his death less than a week later. He knew that his life would end in the most horrific, demeaning, cruel way possible in five short days. He knew it all, and he went anyway. Jesus understood the higher purpose that was at work; the entire reason for his life on Earth. Not even his disciples, his closest friends, his "posse" understood what was to come. The emotional whiplash that was to come over the next week would change the lives of millions, for eternity. And none of it was a surprise to Jesus.
So, as I move into this Holy Week, and remember, not only the joy, but the sacrifice, it has a different significance for me this year. My physical life was flipped upside down and inside out over the course of a week. And none of it was a surprise to Jesus. Because of the events of Holy Week, I know that Andrew is sitting at the feet of Jesus, raising his arms in praise, singing at the top of his lungs, dancing at the greatest rock concert of all. And none of it was a surprise to Jesus. He knew that Andrew would be celebrating the greatest event in human history in person this year, and for all eternity. It won't be possible to articulate the level of comfort and peace that I feel knowing that Jesus knew exactly what was going to happen, down to the minute, that Holy Week, and he did it anyway. He did it because he knew that he was the only one who could restore creation to the Creator. He was the only one who could perform the perfect sacrifice required to atone for sins. His death was the only way to bring life to a dying creation. Jesus lived Holy Week for me, for Andrew, for my children, for all of humanity. From the moment he became man, Jesus was living a death sentence. And he did it anyway. I wish I could say that, had I known how my life would change that week in November, I would have moved forward and accepted it. Let's be honest: if any of us really knew what our lives would be like, we couldn't do it. That's why God only knows, and that's enough. See, my Savior proved that, even though life can drastically change in only a week, and the course of human history altered completely, the result of that week can and will bring glory to God the Father, and indescribable joy will come from what looks (and feels) like complete defeat.
When I was a kid, we would sing a song on Palm Sunday (as we waved palm branches). It goes like this:
"Hosanna! Hosanna!
Hosanna in the highest!
Hosanna! Hosanna!
Hosanna in the highest!
Lord we lift up your name,
With hearts full of praise,
Be exalted, O Lord my God,
Hosanna in the highest!
Glory! Glory!
Glory to the King of Kings!
Glory! Glory!
Glory to the King of Kings!
Lord we lift up your name,
With hearts full of praise,
Be exalted, O Lord my God,
Glory to the King of Kings!"
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