Your lips couldn’t hold it any longer. Your feet couldn’t stand still, but ran out to greet him. Your heart palpitated as you held up the palm branch and cried out, Hosanna! King of Israel! The King has come—the one who had wept over you as you lay dead, had thanked you for the water from your hand, had called you friend. Jesus has now come into the city riding on a donkey, just as it had been prophesied. Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! We shouted and leapt and danced for the joy of having our King amidst us. We built and rebuilt the world around the hope that the King would bring. Clearly, we hardly understood the depth and magnitude of his love, which far surpasses any kingly establishment. That Palm Sunday, the King rode into Jerusalem to offer up his life on a cross. Throughout his time on earth—even as he fed, even as he healed—he knew all along that one day he would lay down his life so that his people may have life.
