Palm Sunday

Palm Sunday is one of those days in the church calendar that we can easily reduce to crafts, palm branches, and maybe a childhood memory of a flannelgraph Jesus sliding off a felt donkey.

For some of us, it’s memories of sword-fighting in fifth grade with palm branches. For others, it’s just “that Sunday before Easter” when we sing a couple of extra upbeat songs.

But the first Palm Sunday was far more than a cute story or a children’s object lesson. It was the trigger event that started the most important week in human history since creation.

And it all began with a donkey, a parade, and a weeping King.

The Week That Changed the World

When you read the Gospels, Jesus’ entire public ministry is covered in 61 chapters of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.

But his final week?
That one week fills 29 chapters.

God clearly wants us to notice this week.

In that week:

Jesus turned over the tables in the temple.
He washed His disciples’ feet.
He shared the Last Supper and instituted communion.
He was betrayed, abandoned, falsely accused, convicted of blasphemy.
He was beaten nearly to death and nailed to a cross.
He died for the sins of the world.
And on the first day of the week, He rose from the dead, defeating sin and death.
Palm Sunday is the doorway into all of that. And it starts with a very strange command:

“Go get a donkey.”

1. Doing What Jesus Says (Even When It Doesn’t Make Sense)

Matthew 21:1–3 tells us:

As they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives,
Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them,
“Go to the village ahead of you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there, with her colt by her.
Untie them and bring them to me.
If anyone says anything to you, say that the Lord needs them, and he will send them right away.”

We aren’t told which two disciples He sent. And that might be the point. It could have been any two.

Can you imagine the conversation between them on the way?

“So… we’re just going to untie a stranger’s donkey and walk off with it?”
“Yep.”
“This sounds like stealing, right?”
“Kind of.”
“And our explanation is… ‘The Lord needs it’?”

Imagine trying that with someone’s car:

“Hey, why are you taking my car?”
“The Lord needs it.”

They didn’t understand everything—but they obeyed.

Matthew pauses the story to explain why the donkey mattered:

This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet:
“Say to Daughter Zion,
‘See, your king comes to you,
gentle and riding on a donkey,
and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’”
—Zechariah 9:9 (written ~500 years earlier)

God had said “donkey” centuries before. So “donkey” it was.

The disciples didn’t know they were helping fulfill ancient prophecy. John later admits:

At first his disciples did not understand all this.
Only after Jesus was glorified did they realize that these things had been written about him and that these things had been done to him.
—John 12:16

They understood after, not before.

That’s often how obedience works. Understanding is not a prerequisite to obedience.

Sometimes, Jesus simply says, “Go get the donkey.”
Our job is to go get it—even when:

It feels odd.
It doesn’t seem “important.”
We’re not sure how it’ll turn out.
In your life, it probably won’t be an actual donkey. But you already know some of the things He’s said:

“Do to others as you would have them do to you.”
“Forgive.”
“Give, and it will be given to you.”
The question isn’t whether we know these things. The question is whether we’re doing them.

Palm Sunday invites us to ask:
Will I do what Jesus says, even before I fully understand why?

2. Seeing What Jesus Sees

Palm Sunday is noisy in our imaginations:

People shouting “Hosanna!”
Palm branches waving like national flags.
Coats spread on the road like a first-century red carpet.
It feels like a victory parade. In our day, we might compare it to a championship parade after the Super Bowl—crowds everywhere, many of them not entirely sure what they’re celebrating, just caught up in the moment.

But something happened during that parade that most of the crowd didn’t see.

Matthew, Mark, and John don’t mention it.
Only Luke records it:

As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it and said,
“If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes.
The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side.
They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls.
They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of God’s coming to you.”
—Luke 19:41–44

While the crowd is cheering, Jesus is weeping.

And not polite, quiet tears. The Greek word used here describes gut-wrenching, sobbing grief—the kind of weeping people do at the grave of someone they deeply love.

Why is He weeping?

Not because of the cross that awaits Him.
Not because of His own suffering.

He weeps over Jerusalem—over people who:

Don’t know what would truly bring them peace.
Don’t recognize that God Himself is visiting them.
Are about 40 years away from a horrific destruction (which came in A.D. 70 when the Romans leveled the city and the temple).
They wanted freedom from Rome.
He came to bring freedom from sin.

They wanted lower taxes.
He came to give them peace with God.

They were shouting, “Hosanna!” which means “Save us!”—but they had no idea what kind of salvation they really needed.

That’s not just ancient Jerusalem. That’s our world today.

People around us are:

Hurting.
Angry.
Numb.
Searching (even if they don’t realize they’re searching).
Life isn’t working very well for a lot of people. And since they don’t know who to blame, they blame everyone.

It’s easier for us to get frustrated and ask, “What’s wrong with those people?” than it is to weep for them like Jesus did.

Palm Sunday asks us:

Will I ask Jesus to help me see what He sees?

To see the brokenness behind the behavior.
To see the fear behind the anger.
To see people not as “enemies” or “idiots,” but as precious souls who don’t recognize the time of God’s coming to them.
If we begin to see like Jesus, we won’t just join the parade.
We’ll also share His compassion.

3. Telling People Who Jesus Is

In Matthew 21:8–11, we read:

A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road,
while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road.
The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted,
“Hosanna to the Son of David!”
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
“Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred and asked,
“Who is this?”

The crowds answered,
“This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.”

That question is still echoing today:

“Who is this?”

A good teacher?
A religious figure?
A moral example?
A political revolutionary?
The crowds on Palm Sunday wanted a political Messiah, a national Savior, “the Son of David” in the sense of restoring Israel to its golden age.

They wanted someone to topple Rome.
He came to topple sin and death.

They expected to crown Him.
He knew they would soon crucify Him.

Yet in the middle of all that confusion, people still answered the question, however incomplete their answers were:

“This is Jesus…”

And that’s our role too.

Palm Sunday reminds us that:

Our world is still asking, “Who is this Jesus?”
Our neighbors still wonder what the big deal is about Easter.
Many still think it’s mainly about eggs, candy, and a cute family photo.
Some will come to church out of tradition, curiosity, or because someone invited them. Underneath that, whether they know it or not, they are asking:

“Who is this, really? And what does He have to do with my life?”

We get to answer:
He is the King who came humbly.
He is the Lamb who died sacrificially.
He is the Lord who rose victoriously.
He is the Savior who still hears the cry, “Hosanna—save us!”

Becoming the Donkey

Corrie ten Boom once wrote about that first Palm Sunday:

“When Jesus rode into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey,
and everyone was waving palm branches and throwing garments on the road and singing praises,
do you think for one moment it ever entered the head of that donkey that all that praise was for him?”

She continued:

“If I can be the donkey on which Jesus Christ rides in His glory,
I give Him all the praise and all the honor.”

That’s it, isn’t it?

The donkey’s job was simple: bring Jesus to the people.

That’s our job too.

If He could ordain that a donkey would be waiting in the next village, He certainly knows what’s down the road for you and me:

He knows the outcome of the medical test you’re worried about.
He knows the job situation you’re unsure of.
He knows the family tension that keeps you up at night.
Understanding that Jesus knows all things gives us confidence to follow His directions, even when we don’t see the whole picture.

So What About You—This Palm Sunday?

I don’t think it’s an accident when you find yourself in church on Palm Sunday—or even reading a blog like this.

I believe God sets appointments with us.

So let me put a few questions before you, the same ones I’m asking myself:

Will you do what Jesus says?
Not just what you understand, or agree with, or find convenient—but what He actually says.
Even if it feels as strange as “Go get a donkey”?

Will you ask Him to help you see what He sees?
To break your heart for the things that break His—especially for people who are far from Him and don’t know it?

Will you tell others who Jesus is?
Not with pressure or arrogance, but with humility and clarity:
“This is Jesus…”

As we move into Holy Week and prepare for Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday, consider praying something like this:

“Lord, help me to obey what You’ve already told me.
Help me see people the way You see them.
And give me the courage and love to tell others who You really are.”

If all we remember from Palm Sunday is “Jesus and the donkey,” we’ve missed the heart of it.

But if we learn to obey like those two unnamed disciples,
to weep and care like Jesus,
and to carry Him into our world like that humble donkey,
then Palm Sunday becomes more than a story.

It becomes a pattern for how we live.

Hosanna.
Save us now, Lord—and then send us out, for Your glory.