This Palm Sunday message explores the other side of the triumphal entry – the side marked by tears. Journey with us as Jesus enters Jerusalem not in might and pomp alone, but in deep sorrow and compassion. Experience the emotional resonance of a humble King and glorious Messiah who pauses to weep for his people, and discover what breaks the heart of our Savior even as he offers the hope of peace.
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Read the transcript
Good morning. This morning’s reading is from Luke chapter 19, starting at verse 28:
After Jesus had said this, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. As he approached Bethphage and Bethany on the hill called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples, saying to them, “Go to the village ahead of you, and as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there which no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ say, ‘The Lord needs it.’”
Those who were sent ahead went and found it just as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?” They replied, “The Lord needs it.”
They brought it to Jesus, threw their cloaks on the colt and put Jesus on it. As he went along, people spread their cloaks on the road. When he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen:
“Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”
Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!”
“I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”
As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it and said, “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes. The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of God’s coming to you.”
This is the word of the Lord.
Well, it’s really special to be able to share God’s word with you this morning, especially if you are a guest of the Malone family. We’re really just delighted to have this moment with you. And thank you—thank you for being here, especially if church isn’t a place where you usually find yourself on a Sunday morning. It is our privilege to share this time with you.
We’ve been going through Luke’s gospel, and I’ve got a bunch of them sitting on the table at the front there (and some scattered around in the foyer as well), because you might find that you want to take one with you when you leave. And you’re very, very welcome to do that.
We’ve been looking at Luke’s gospel, particularly at the questions that Jesus asks people and the questions that they ask him back. In Luke’s gospel, we find there’s a shape to it that wants us to come to a decision. Luke speaks roughly in thirds: to the mind, to the will, and to the heart. Luke, the writer, says, “I’m putting these things together so that you may know the certainty of the things you have been taught.” And Jesus stands up in the synagogue in Luke 4 and says, “This Scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” In the first third of the book, there is evidence upon evidence that Jesus is who he has claimed to be. We see Jesus’ authority over sickness, we see his authority over evil, and his authority over nature and creation. He’s really encouraging us to say, “Well, who is this person? Who do you say that I am?” The mind.
Then the second part of Luke’s gospel speaks more to the will. Will you follow? Now that you have seen the evidence of who he is, will you take that step and say, “I will count the cost”? It is worth losing many of the things that I have valued, so that I may gain Jesus and ultimately become myself, who God intended me to be, and experience what God intended me to for eternity. What does it mean to follow him? How do I take that step and choose? It’s fascinating that we use that language when we have a baptism, because we are embracing baby Reuben into this community. We’re also praying and trusting that as the Holy Spirit works in his life, he will see the evidence of who Jesus is in the Scriptures and in his experience, and he will choose – he will make an act of the will. And sometimes (if you’ve been a Christian for a long time, or even if you’re just thinking about it) it actually takes an act of the will, because life can be terribly challenging.
So Luke appeals to the mind and to the will, and then he comes to the heart. Will you, having seen the evidence and having made a choice—will you love him? Will you say, “This is so worth it,” because Jesus is the King. I wonder if you’ve ever been in an argument with someone and there’s been evidence and there’s been counter-evidence, and, you know, voices might have become more heated… and it’s only when you see the tears in the other’s eyes that you realize this isn’t just an intellectual transaction. This is something that means so much to someone. Well, we’ve seen evidence upon evidence, and we’ve had an appeal to our will. But now we see the tears in Jesus’ eyes. We know this is not an intellectual exercise for him, nor for us. Will we love him as he loves us?
So today we’re going to see not just the triumphal entry of Jesus, but in fact the heart-breaking entry of Jesus into Jerusalem—and how that shows his heart and what that means for our love for him.
The Intention of the Humble Lord
After Jesus had said this to his disciples, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. As he approached Bethphage and Bethany at the hill called the Mount of Olives (keep that in your mind), he sent two of his disciples ahead and told them to fetch a colt for him — “The Lord needs it” was the password that would make the owners let it go. Jesus is intentional about coming to Jerusalem. Jerusalem. The place of worship. Jerusalem. The place where the identity of the people of God found its truest expression. Jerusalem — it held the hopes of this people that had been destroyed and rebuilt, and destroyed and rebuilt. And here they were again, coming to Jerusalem, knowing that in the temple and outside the city gates events would transpire that were both dramatic and painful, and ultimately for Jesus, the crucifixion – his death. Jesus chose to come to Jerusalem full of courage, but he came to Jerusalem riding on a donkey because it was the fulfillment of prophecy.
So in the Old Testament book of Zechariah, we read:
Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
Jesus is not being swept up in events beyond his control. He is full of intention, and he is full of courage. He had, without the disciples’ knowledge, set up this arrangement in advance that he would enter into Jerusalem on the foal of a donkey. Here is the promised Messiah, fulfilling promises from centuries earlier. But more than that, he is entering on a donkey.
Now, donkeys are hilarious creatures. They sound funny; their eyes are big and fun. They’re just ridiculous (and of course, Shrek comes to mind!). But the donkey—rather than being a foolish choice—was really just the choice of something normal, something day-to-day. We think donkeys are funny. Well, I do—I love them. I’m allergic to horses, so I can’t really get up and give them a big hug (although I haven’t really tried; maybe my allergies don’t cross over to donkeys. We’ll try it one day!). But this is a normal way of traveling. This is a normal way of carrying things. This is a normal beast of burden.
And Jesus chooses the donkey not simply because this is the way in which the promised King (the Messiah) would enter his city, as foretold in Zechariah, but because Jesus is the one who is with us. Jesus is one of us. When his birth was promised, it was said that he would be Emmanuel — God with us.
Now, one day the Scriptures tell us that he will come riding not on a donkey, but on a warrior’s horse. Revelation 19 gives us this vision:
I saw heaven standing open, and there before me was a white horse whose rider is called Faithful and True. With justice he judges and wages war. His eyes are like blazing fire, and on his head are many crowns. On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written: King of kings and Lord of lords.
One day the identity of this King will be undeniable, as he rides in on a great warrior’s horse. But here, in this moment for us, Jesus is coming in as one of us, into a city that he loves – a city that stands before him not as an object of judgment, but of deep compassion.
When you read Luke’s Gospel, sometimes you see that Jesus interacts with people in miraculous ways and then says to them, “Don’t tell anyone I’ve done this for you.” You think, That’s madness—your PR person would be furious! But he wanted to ensure that he could come to this moment without the terrible distraction of being seen simply as a miracle worker or a power-person. But now, as he comes into the city, there is no hiding. He is the King promised in Zechariah 9. He is riding on a donkey, and he is one of us. He is coming to Jerusalem, facing his death for us. And he’s doing it with full intention and courage.
The Return of the Glorious King
They brought the donkey to Jesus, threw their cloaks on it, and put Jesus on it. Now, in Luke’s gospel it doesn’t talk about palms—actually it’s kind of “Cloak Sunday”—and so I was like, Oh, we could get the lost property and just put that along, because I think that would be really classy, very aesthetically pleasing! But that is what we see in Luke. People were willing to put down their cloaks. They made a red carpet out of whatever they had for Jesus to enter into the city.
When he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount of Olives (take note), the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen. The evidence had been put before them, they had made the choice to follow, and now they cry out in praise: “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”
Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples.” Jesus replied, “I tell you, if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”
Jesus knows that as he travels into Jerusalem—a King from among humankind, humble yet courageous, and truly the King who would one day ride in on a warrior’s horse—it was right that he was praised. It was right that people joyfully shouted and praised God, saying that in heaven things are being set right and glory is here: “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord.” Jesus had been offered by Satan all the kingdoms of the world, and he said, “No! I worship the Lord and serve Him only.” And as he enters into Jerusalem and receives that worship, he shows us who he is: God the Son, coming as King.
Now, I called this the return of the glorious King. There’s an interesting reason we might use that phrase. Way back in the Old Testament, some centuries before Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, there was a prophet called Ezekiel. (Ezekiel is the guy that had the weirdest visions of all—I don’t know if you’ve seen those internet memes about biblically accurate angels covered with eyes or wheels; well, that comes from Ezekiel!) Ezekiel had a terrible burden—a heartbreaking burden—to tell the people of God that God’s presence was leaving them.
Ezekiel saw the presence of God in these crazy visions, and the message he received was that God was coming up out of his temple, moving to the edge of the city of Jerusalem, and then leaving. It was a terrible, terrifying message of God’s judgment—that He would be absent from the heart of his people because they had turned away from Him. They had closed their eyes and stopped their ears. And so in Ezekiel 11 it says:
Then the glory of the Lord went up from within the city and stopped above the mountain (the Mount of Olives) east of it.
This was a sign of judgment leading to destruction: God leaving the place where He once dwelled, moving out of the temple, eastward from the city, up to the Mount of Olives. But Ezekiel also received from God a message of hope that one day the temple would be restored and God would return to it. And so in Ezekiel 43 it says:
I saw the glory of the God of Israel coming from the east... and the glory of the Lord entered the temple.
And so I wonder: as we see Jesus coming in from the east, from the Mount of Olives, moving down into the city and into the temple, do we see here the return of the glorious presence of God? What Jesus would do when he entered that city – and what would happen to him – was the only way for the glory of the Lord to return and stay with his people. Jesus encountered the same sort of rebellion, the same sort of blindness, from his very own people (we see that in the Pharisees saying, “Stop your disciples from crying out!”). It was the same sort of rebellion that had meant the glory of the Lord left and went up to the east.
But now Jesus says that the only way — the only way for humankind to dwell in the presence of God — is for the glory of the Lord to return to Jerusalem, to the temple, and then for the people of God to crucify him. This is the only way. The return of the glorious King.
The Weeping Savior
As Jesus reached the top of the Mount of Olives and saw the city spread out beneath him, he wept. His heart breaks as he approaches Jerusalem and sees the city. He weeps over it and said:
If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes. The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of God’s coming to you.
We only see Jesus described as crying twice in the Gospels. Once is at the tomb of Lazarus, where Jesus weeps at the death of his friend—Jesus weeps at the seeming victory of death, at what that means for the disruption of human relationships and the burden of grief on those left behind. Jesus weeps. And here, this is the second time: Jesus weeps over Jerusalem.
I don’t know if you’re much of a crier. I have been a big crier over my life. Huge. It’s lessened maybe over the last ten years, but I tell you, as a woman leader it is awkward. You really feel embarrassed and, you know, it’s just kind of part of who you are. It plays into this narrative and you’re like, Oh, stop it! But I’ve come to realize that when you cry, something is happening—something telling you to take notice. Just telling you to take notice of what is going on.
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Sometimes it’s because you’re particularly tired or stressed.
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Sometimes it’s telling you that there’s an injustice happening and you feel really helpless about it.
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Sometimes it’s telling you that a boundary has been crossed.
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Sometimes it’s telling you that you’re really invested in whatever is going on.
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Sometimes it can even tell you that you’re happy. We had a wedding on Friday, and there were tears – they were very happy tears. You see me when people are giving testimonies: they are happy and proud tears.
Well, for Jesus, we need to ask: is this an indication that he’s worried or stressed over what is to come? He is moving into a time that he knows will be agonizing (we actually do see him described in Hebrews as praying with loud cries in the Garden of Gethsemane). So possibly he does have some tears in another moment that we don’t see recorded in the Gospels. But here we’re not seeing him crying for himself. We’re not seeing him crying because of what’s to come. He’s not stressed about that, even though he may have been. What we’re seeing is him crying with a broken heart over the people that he longs to draw to himself, and yet who are blind and deaf to his cries. He is crying with a broken heart over the people that he longs to draw to himself, and yet who are blind and deaf to his cries.
He is coming to the people of God who should be recognizing the King when he comes to them, and yet he knows that they will not. And he has seen this pattern. You know, maybe it’s a cry of frustration – he’s seen the pattern of the people of God: being warned and then ignoring, and experiencing pain and destruction, and then rebuilding and returning… and then doing it again, and again. He sees that that is possibly the pattern that is going to happen again now, even though the glory of the Lord is returning to these people.
But more than that, he’s weeping – and the language is pretty strong. It’s like sobbing. He’s crying because he longs to have these people know the peace that he brings. They longed for peace. There’s almost no human being that doesn’t long for peace, even if it’s a self-centered understanding of what that peace is. Jesus knew Jerusalem longed for peace; they wanted political peace, they wanted spiritual peace, they wanted religious peace. But they weren’t able to see the King coming, returning to bring that peace. If only, he says, you had known what would bring you peace. But they were spiritually blind in the previous chapter—which is one of the reasons why I think it would be really great. (Grab one of these!) In the previous chapter, you meet someone who is physically blind and yet who is spiritually very able to see Jesus the King, the Son of David. And he receives his healing, his peace. His heart is open to Jesus. His deepest need is met.
But here… here, Jerusalem is spiritually blind. They have gone down a path that has made them move towards darkness for themselves, and ultimately darkness for the Son of God. And just as Jesus would come one day on that warrior’s horse to set things right and to bring true justice, the destruction of Jerusalem would come as a symbol of that, in about 40 years’ time. Walls would be built, hemmed in on every side, and people whom God loved would suffer. And so Jesus is not crying angry tears, or tears of judgment. Jesus is crying grief-filled tears—compassionate tears. God is not a cold God who says, “I told you so,” and revels in being right. God’s heart breaks when people do not see the way of peace.
So, in Luke’s gospel, this is particularly a heart-breaking entry into Jerusalem: with a humble Lord, a glorious King, but a weeping Savior. And so I think there are, in the spirit of our previous series, some questions for us at the end of this passage.
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First of all, can our hearts (perhaps today more than ever) recognize a humble King—a King who doesn’t bring victory like that, who exercises his courage in facing suffering?
A King who exercises his power in service and sacrifice, a King who turns the power structures of his world upside down. Can our hearts recognize a King like that? Because when we look at leaders in our world, that might be very different. When we look at what we feel we need to set our lives right, can we recognize a humble King? -
Secondly, will our hearts praise the glorious King?
Can we really see in Jesus the return of God’s presence – this Emmanuel, God with us – coming to set things right on a cross and then in an empty tomb? And will we praise him? Will we move from assent to “Yes, I see the evidence,” to “Yes, I will follow you,” to “I praise you – you are wonderful, I love you”? Or will we simply allow creation to do that for us when Jesus returns? Because his kingship is cosmic; it encompasses the entire creation, and the creation will recognize him and respond. But will we do it now? -
And finally, have our hearts received the One whose heart breaks for us?
When we think of Jesus and the events of that first Holy Week, do we see this as just a person in history, or do we allow this One who loves his people so much that he would sob for them (not for himself, for them) into our lives? Have our hearts received this One? And do they break for those who have not?In our day and age, it’s quite easy to keep church to a Sunday and to keep our beliefs to ourselves. I don’t mean it’s easy because we want to, but we just feel that we’d make fewer enemies and smaller waves if we don’t talk about it.
But we must know that Jesus looks at the entire world—anybody who has not yet been able to come to that point of saying “Yes, I receive him”—not with judgment, but with weeping compassion. It is good for people to know him. It is the thing that will help them flourish and live. And that is why Jesus wept over Jerusalem: because bad things that they would have to handle themselves, without any courage and without any presence of God, were coming.
And so he calls us to have that same softness of heart – that radical grief – for those who do not yet know him, but also the confidence that if he did everything in his power then, he is doing everything now. Today is still the day of his weeping compassion, not his warrior white horse. Today is the day to see him as the humble Lord, the glorious King, and the weeping Savior. Amen.