Sing Hosanna To The King

South Bay Christian Alliance, Chula Vista, CA

Yesterday was Palm Sunday. We had a lovely time at church. 

And while no Dickensian Ghost-of-Palm-Sunday-Past visited me, I caught myself reminiscing. Holidays and rituals are meant for such a thing, I suppose.

One year we were living in New York, involved in a church that had more-than-a-few extroverted Pentocostaly excitable saints. We were encouraged to wave our palm fronds in the air (and wave them like we just didn’t care.)

One year I was on a missions trip in Mexico with my high school youth group. It was the first time I ever attended a bilingual service and I think the service lasted three hours. We teenagers thought it lasted too long at the time (I vividly remember complaining about it.) Oh youth. It’s wasted on the young. Now that I’m older, a three hour service sounds lovely. Especially if I could time machine back to a stage of life where I was among peers, toddler-free, and had no role in preparing or managing the service.

Oh wait. That thought is entirely misplaced. It misses the whole emphasis of Palm Sunday. Palm Sunday isn’t about sitting still and day-dreaming about a quieter time. It’s about responding in praise without reservation. It’s about shouting aloud. It’s about activity.

Matthew 21:1-17 records Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem.

But when the chief priests and the scribes saw the wonderful things that he did, and the children crying out in the temple, “Hosanna to the Son of David!” they were indignant, and they said to him, “Do you hear what these are saying?” And Jesus said to them, “Yes; have you never read, 

“‘Out of the mouth of infants and nursing babies you have prepared praise’?” 

Matthew 21:15-16

So I gladly embraced Palm Sunday yesterday and all that the Lord has for me in this season of life. I have the honor and privilege of teaching my toddler about King Jesus. Every Sunday, while Jeff preaches, I go into the church nursery to watch Silas and read him a Bible story. Yesterday, the first thing Silas said when I latched the nursery gate was, “Silas wants to pray to Jesus.” (We’re working on not using the third person.)

So we prayed for his dad, and that he would faithfully preach the Word of God. I prayed for the manifest presence of God to be with us. And I asked God to touch the minds and hearts of those who came that morning to hear from Him.  

After church, we came home (after a quick Costco-run) and noticed the neighbors across the street were putting lots of stuff on the curb. Yes please. We swooped up a bed, a bed frame, and two dressers, and put them in our garage since we’re furnishing the church parsonage for future interns. God is at work ya’ll!

Later, we listened to The Corner Room’s Zechariah 9:9 (a Palm Sunday-ee song.)

And we listened to Shai Linne’s Jesus Kids (another Palm Sunday-ee song.)

Then, Silas crayoned the living room rug that I washed 24 hours ago (yes, washed, I have a Ruggable.)

So with a crayoned rug, I sing hosanna to the King. Rejoice greatly, shout aloud, behold our King, salvation is here.