The King Who Comes in Meekness

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be always acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer. Lord, give us eyes to see and ears to hear, that we may learn Your Word together as a family. We give You all praise and honor and glory, in Jesus’ holy Name. Amen.

Good morning again, Encouragers.

You know, Palm Sunday always feels a little out of the ordinary … and it should. It stands at a threshold.

For weeks now, Lent has been preparing us. It has called us to repentance, to prayer, to self-denial, and to a more serious remembrance of our sin and of God’s mercy.

But today, the Church brings us to the edge of the great saving acts themselves. Today, we begin to follow our Lord into the holy days by which He accomplished our redemption.

It begins with joy, with palms, with a procession, with shouting, with expectation, with the great cry, “Hosanna.”

That’s why we began today with the Liturgy of the Palms, where we reenacted, in our own simple way, our Lord’s entrance into Jerusalem.

But we’ve also heard the Passion. Where we heard betrayal, judgment, mockery, suffering, and death. So today we have great joy, right next to great sadness.

Why does the Church do this? Because both belong together. If we keep only the palms, we’ll misunderstand Jesus. If we hear only the suffering and forget that He entered as King, we’ll misunderstand the Cross as well.

Palm Sunday teaches us that the One who goes to Calvary is no helpless victim. He is the King. And it teaches us that the King doesn’t come to rule by force, but by humility, obedience, and sacrificial love.

Saint Luke tells us that our Lord enters Jerusalem with full purpose. Nothing here is accidental. He sends for the colt, and He rides into the city exactly as Zechariah foretold: “Behold, thy King cometh unto thee.” He comes not on a war horse, but meek and lowly.

Why does that matter? Because Jerusalem knew what worldly power looked like. Rome had taught that lesson well enough. Power came with force, threat, armor, and display.

But here comes the true King, and He comes in gentleness. It’s not that He lacks power. It’s that His kingdom is of another kind.

He doesn’t need the machinery of earthly glory. He is the Lord’s Anointed. He is the Son of David. He is the King of glory.

The people cry out in praise. They spread garments in the way. They rejoice for the mighty works they’ve seen. And they’re right to welcome Him.

But many don’t yet understand what sort of King He is or what kind of salvation He has come to bring.

They want deliverance, but mostly in earthly terms. They want relief from oppression. They want visible victory. They want things set right on their own terms.

But our Lord has come for something deeper. He has come to deal with sin, death, and the estrangement of man from God.

That’s still our problem today, isn’t it?

We’re glad to have Jesus as helper, comforter, and source of blessing. But we’re slower to receive Him as King.

We want Him to relieve our burdens, but not always to rule our lives. We want His aid, but not always His authority.

Yet Palm Sunday doesn’t permit us to keep Christ at a distance. He comes to claim His people. He comes to reign.

And His crown will be thorns.

Saint Luke adds one of the most tender and painful details in the whole Gospel. As Jesus draws near and sees the city, He weeps over it.

Here, He sees Jerusalem’s blindness, its coming rejection, its refusal of the things that belong unto its peace, and He weeps.

That tells us something wonderful about our Lord. His warnings are never cruel. He doesn’t simply pass judgment on sin. He grieves for those ensnared by it. He looks upon the city that turns away from Him with sorrow and deep love.

That’s the heart of Christ. And it’s important that we see that now, at the beginning of Holy Week.

The Passion is not the story of a man overtaken by events. It’s the story of the willing love of the Son of God. He knows where this road leads, and He doesn’t turn aside.

That’s why Saint Paul’s words in Philippians are so fitting today. “Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus.”

Then he shows us that mind. Though He is in the form of God, He humbles Himself. He takes the form of a servant. He becomes obedient unto death, even the death of the Cross.

That’s the mystery of our salvation. The eternal Son doesn’t save us from a distance. He takes our flesh. He enters our condition. He stoops down into our weakness, our sorrow, and our mortality.

Then He goes lower still. He accepts shame, rejection, agony, and death for us and for our salvation. But because we hear those words often, we need to be careful not to hear them lightly.

The Lord of glory is mocked by soldiers. The Holy One is spat upon. The King is crowned with thorns. The Creator is nailed to the tree, a tree He made.

Palm Sunday isn’t given to us merely to admire Jesus from afar. It calls us to follow Him. In the Collect, we ask “that we may both follow the example of his patience, and also be made partakers of his resurrection.”

That’s the path now set before us. Before Easter comes the Cross. Before the joy comes the suffering. And our Lord walks that road willingly for us.

That’s not only the pattern of Christ’s redeeming work. It’s also the pattern of the Christian life.

We aren’t naturally patient. We aren’t naturally humble. We don’t naturally choose the low place. We’d much rather be vindicated quickly, comforted quickly, and delivered quickly.

But the Lord teaches us another way. The way of life passes through death. The way of glory passes through suffering. The way of resurrection passes through the grave.

That becomes painfully clear in Saint Matthew’s Passion.

The cries of praise have faded. The city turns against Him. He is delivered to Pilate, falsely accused, scourged, mocked, and condemned. The soldiers put a robe on Him, place a reed in His hand, kneel before Him in mockery, and say, “Hail, King of the Jews.”

They mean it as scorn, but they speak more truly than they know.

Pilate places the charge above His head. Again, meant in mockery, and again true. He is the King.

Even the taunt at the Cross reveals the heart of the matter: “If thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross.”

But Jesus doesn’t. It’s not that He can’t. It’s because He won’t. He turns what they thought was a failure into a mission. He remains because He is obedient to the Father and because He loves sinners.

That’s why Palm Sunday must lead into Holy Week. The palms are real, but they point toward the Cross. And the Cross, terrible as it is, is not the end of the story.

Palm Sunday reaches forward to Easter, but it doesn’t rush there. It teaches us instead to walk the road faithfully.

Psalm 24 asks, “Who is this King of glory?” Palm Sunday answers in a way the world never would. The King of glory comes in meekness. He comes to suffer. He comes to save.

And Psalm 97 says, “The Lord reigneth.” Yes, and here we see what His reign looks like. It looks like holy love, steadfast obedience, and mercy that endures even unto death.

So, what does Palm Sunday ask of us?

It asks us to receive Christ as He truly is. The King of Kings, not the king we want Him to be. The palms are beautiful, but they’re not the whole story. They’re only rightly understood when we see where this King is going.

And it asks us to follow Him through this coming week.

Don’t hurry past Holy Week. Stay with the Lord in the Scriptures and prayers of the Church. Stand near the Cross. Let these days search your heart.

Lent has prepared the soil. Holy Week presses the truth of our redemption deeply into it.

And finally, Palm Sunday asks us to hope. The One who entered Jerusalem in humility is the same One whom the Father has highly exalted.

The One who bowed His head in death is the same One before whom every knee shall bow.

Yes, the road passes through suffering. But it doesn’t end there.

So, let’s greet Him rightly.

Let’s greet Him with palms, but also with repentance.

Let’s greet Him with praise, but also with obedience.

Let’s greet Him not only as the King we welcome for a moment, but as the King we’re willing to follow.

And may Almighty God grant us grace to walk with Christ through these holy days, from the triumphal entry to the Cross, and from the Cross to the joy of His resurrection.