Thoughts for Holy Week are beginning to fill our feeds lately, but how do we truly prepare and plant our hearts here?
Yesterday was the kingly entrance. He arrived in Jerusalem to fanfare, a multitude of eyes on him. Branches waving, voices crying out in praise and adoration. Hosanna!
And today? Well, Russ Ramsey may have said it best in the She Reads Truth devotion, “I think if Jerusalem was a beehive, with His triumphal entry the day before, Jesus hit it with a stick.”
The very next day.
I get it.
The temple was a mess of greed. What should have been set apart as holy was defiled and abhorrent to the One who truly understood Holiness. He had done it before so it shouldn’t be all that surprising, but I find myself cringing as “…Jesus went into the temple of God and drove out all those who bought and sold in the temple, and overturned the tables of the money changers and the seats of those who sold doves.”
Couldn’t he have basked in the glory of yesterday a little bit longer? Couldn’t he have wallowed in the adoration, ignored that defiling stuff, for just a few more days?
When I think back on some of the high moments of my life, not even close to the masses throwing out praise, but my little highs just the same, I wanted to park there a while. I want to cozy up in that moment of awesome, stretch it out for a little bit.
But Jesus was about righteousness more than earthly adoration. Jesus was about truth more than earthly praise. Jesus was about obedience to His Father more, so very much more, than His own glory.
Emboldened by this, He walked into the temple and flipped the tables, drove out everyone buying and selling.
In Matthew 21, if you are reading along this week, I find the next verses to be the most fascinating. In verse 14 the blind and lame come to Jesus and He preforms miracles, healing them. “But the chief priests and scribes saw the wonderful things that He did, and …they were indignant”.
It wasn’t even the flipping of tables that really made the Roman authorities mad, it was His goodness. It was the honor and adoration of the people because of His generosity that made them indignant.
But here’s the thing. His brave never depended on people, on opinions, or praise.
His brave was always tied to truth and obedience to a perfect Heavenly Father.
If I’m being honest, I kind of hate this week and love it, all at the same time. Diving in to the brutality of a humble and perfect Savior, trying to even comprehend the depths of love that willingly endures such things, and realizing my own guilt and yet my propensity to take it all for granted, to minimize it to sugary Peeps and pastel dresses is just…there are no words, really.
But my challenge for us is this, be brave enough to look. Be brave enough to read it, to lean in to it. Be brave enough to sit for even 10 minutes this week and think about the cost, the sacrifice, for you.
I can’t walk away from that anything less than thankful. Undeserving. Humbled. Grateful. And Brave.
Because Sunday is coming.