Aside from the Lord’s Prayer, Adventists don’t typically put names to things that happen in the Bible. Today, in other denominations, carries the title Palm Sunday, marking the day Jesus rode a donkey colt into Jerusalem to the shouts of adoring crowds waving palm branches, ready to declare Him their king. The scene buzzes with energy, the pent-up hopes of the oppressed people springing forth in joyous cries of “Hosanna! God bless the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” My favorite telling of the story comes from Luke 19, starting at verse 28. Celebrate Palm Sunday by reading that passage.
Of the four gospel writers, Luke is the only one who gives the details of Jesus’s exchange with the Pharisees. They order Him to quash the ruckus, but He refuses. There’s going to be celebration whether the people are the ones to put it on or not.
Jesus answered, “I tell you that if they keep quiet, the stones themselves will start shouting.”
If you think that’s hyperbole, read Romans 8:18-22:
“For all creation is waiting eagerly for that future day when God will reveal who His children really are. Against its will, all creation was subjected to God’s curse. But with eager hope, the creation looks forward to the day when it will join God’s children in glorious freedom from death and decay. For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.”
I forget who wrote a quote I love, whether it was N. T. Wright or possibly C. S. Lewis, but it goes something like this: “Creation just praises God. We know why we praise Him.” This scene intrigues me so much, mostly because of what didn’t happen. I wish Jesus had shut the people up so we’d have the recorded voice of the rocks praising our Lord has He makes His way into Jerusalem one final time. But then I wonder if we would even be capable of distinguishing their praise. What if creation’s hymns of praise blend so much into our world that we live daily in their chorus without even noticing?
Then, sadder still, I wonder if Jesus’s entry into our city would rate a reception like He was welcomed with that day. I fear that our lukewarm, watered-down Christianity insulates us from the shockwaves that come from being in proximity to the astounding love of our Savior. If Jesus were to walk by, would anyone even look up? Would anyone see Him and give Him more than a passing glance? If the rocks sang, would anyone join in?
I suspect that the noisy welcoming committee on the road to Jerusalem is comprised of people who know and love Jesus and also those who have only heard of Him, be the rumors good or ambiguous. He can’t have healed all of them; certainly not everyone there has heard Him preach. Some of them have to be curious onlookers. The energy that buzzes out of the crowd as He comes through must have started with one person, one shout of, “Hey, here comes Jesus of Nazareth!” One person’s energy lights another, until the crowd is electrified and crackling with excitement.
You can be that one person. I can be that one person—the one who sees Jesus and acts as conduit of wonder and the good news that Jesus in all His humble majesty has come. He is not likely to come riding into town on a donkey, however! We have to know Him to recognize when He shows up in our lives. Spend some time with Him in the Gospels so you’ll know Him when you see Him, then be on the lookout. When He shows up, be the bearer of glad tidings! Don’t make the rocks do all the work.
