Hello friends,

As I sit here looking at the calendar, I realize we are standing right on the threshold of Palm Sunday. It’s hard to believe we are already nearing the end of our Lenten journey, isn’t it?

Whenever this time of year rolls around, I find myself thinking deeply about the stark contrast of the days ahead. Palm Sunday is a day of high energy. We love the waving of the palm branches, the upbeat hymns, and the shouts of “Hosanna!” It feels like a long-awaited victory parade. But as we prepare our hearts for this coming Sunday, I want to invite you to look a little closer at the man riding in on the donkey.

The crowds that day were thrilled. They were throwing their cloaks on the road and cheering for a conquering king. Luke 19:37-38 paints the picture perfectly: “The whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen: ‘Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!’”

They wanted a political savior. They wanted someone to kick out the Romans and make their lives easier. But Jesus wasn’t riding into Jerusalem to make them comfortable; He was riding in to save their souls. Just a few verses later, as He approaches the city and hears the cheers, Jesus actually begins to weep over Jerusalem. He knew that the very same voices shouting “Hosanna” on Sunday would be shouting “Crucify Him” by Friday.

This brings a profound thought to mind from C.S. Lewis. In his classic The Chronicles of Narnia, Mr. Beaver famously describes Aslan—the Christ figure of the story—by saying:

“Safe? … Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

The crowds on Palm Sunday wanted a “safe” king—a tame lion who would do their bidding and fit neatly into their worldly agendas. But Jesus is not a tame lion. The path He was walking didn’t lead to an earthly throne; it led straight to the agonizing wood of the cross. Lewis reminds us that following Christ isn’t about God improving our current circumstances; it’s about a total, reverent surrender of our very lives.

Here is my challenge to you this week:

Do not rush the journey. It is so tempting for us, in our modern, fast-paced world, to show up for the parade on Palm Sunday, check out for the week, and then show up again for the empty tomb on Easter morning. We love the triumph, but we shrink back from the tragedy.

This Holy Week, I challenge you to sit in the uncomfortable, quiet reverence of the season:

• Pause and reflect: Spend time reading through the events of Maundy Thursday.
• Sit in the shadows: Allow yourself to feel the heavy, somber reality of Good Friday.
• Embrace the silence: Recognize the profound stillness of Holy Saturday.

You cannot fully appreciate the blinding, glorious light of Resurrection Sunday until you have spent time contemplating the deep darkness of Friday. Let’s not reduce Jesus to a tame lion this week. Let’s approach the cross with awe, repentance, and a quiet, contemplative reverence for the sheer magnitude of what it cost to save us.

Grace and peace to you all on the journey ahead.