my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. Psalm 63:1
It is Holy Week. We are walking with Jesus toward the Passover celebration, his last meal with friends before his crucifixion. We are walking with him through a dry and parched land. People are thirsty for faith in something bigger and greater than themselves, something with the power to change things for the better. People are hungry for hope that tomorrow holds goodness, and they are desperate for love. But the fruit of the Spirit doesn’t grow in a spiritual desert, and the palms laid down for the feet of Jesus’ donkey have already withered.
Praise shrivels quickly in a drought of hope. When he entered Jerusalem, Jesus was applauded by a crowd of “believers.” Here was the man who would restore sovereignty and preeminence to the nation! They weren’t looking to worship God, they were looking for power.
I do it all the time. “Hosanna!” is on my lips when I feel like I have what I want in sight. But I leave my palm branches in the dust when the sun rises on another day of hard news or strange trials.
Some withered palm branches were left on the floor in the lobby at church last Sunday - Palm Sunday. Traditionally we make little crosses from the leaves, but these were too brittle. A friend told me they could be made green and supple again by soaking them in water. I took them home and placed them in a pan full of water. Sure enough - they are green and fresh!
Now I can make them into a cross.
It’s how Jesus said to do it. “Take up your cross and follow me.” He didn’t call for the palm branches, he called for the Cross. The greening comes as we immerse ourselves in him.
Beverly
No comments:
Post a Comment