"FROM HOSANNA TO THE CROSS"

“From Hosanna to the Cross”       Matthew 21:1–11; 27:15–26                       03/29/2026

Today, we begin with palms in our hands and joy on our lips: “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” The scene is vivid. Jesus enters Jerusalem, and the crowd is alive with hope. It feels like a coronation. At last—the moment has come. The long-awaited King is here.

But before we can settle into that joy, everything changes. The cheers fade. The crowd turns.
The story darkens. And by the end of this service, we have followed Jesus all the way to the cross. It feels abrupt—almost too abrupt. And that is not accidental.

Every year on Palm and Passion Sunday, the church makes a quiet but important decision. We begin with celebration, waving branches and singing praise. But then, almost without warning, we hear the story of suffering and crucifixion. We move from “Hosanna!” to “Crucify him!” with barely a breath in between.

There is wisdom in this. Many will not gather again during Holy Week, and if we do not hear the Passion today, some may never hear it at all. I hope you will come to church during Holy Week to pray voluntarily, even for just a few minutes.

Ane I gently encourage you to join us for our Maundy Thursday Communion service. And as we approach Good Friday, I invite you to consider fasting—even if it is just for one meal—as a way of prayerful reflection. Each year on Good Friday, I observe a day of fasting as I remember the depth of Christ’s sacrifice.

If you have any urgent prayer requests, please feel free to share them with me. I would be honored to hold them in prayer on Good Friday. Give me a written note and they will be kept confidential between God and me. And if you are able, I warmly invite you to join me in prayer on that sacred day.

Today, instead of rushing past Palm and Passion Sunday, let us slow down. Let us stay with the story. After entering Jerusalem, Jesus does something unexpected. He goes straight to the temple—not to admire it, but to disrupt it, because He sees that it has become like a marketplace. He overturns tables. He drives out the merchants. He declares that God’s house is to be a house of prayer for all nations, but it has become a den of robbers.

This is not a small, symbolic act. It is bold. It is public. It is dangerous. Jesus is challenging a system—religious, economic, and political. He is exposing how faith has been distorted, how power has been abused, and how people have been excluded. And from that moment on, the tension rises.

Jesus teaches in ways that unsettle the powerful. He tells parables that expose hypocrisy. He refuses to play by the rules that keep everything comfortable and controlled. He embodies a kingdom that cannot be managed. And that is what leads Him to the cross. Then, the chief priests and the elders of the people gathered and conspired to arrest Jesus by stealth and kill him (Matthew 26:3-4)

The cross is not an accident. It is not a misunderstanding. It is the cost of a life lived in perfect faithfulness—faithful to God’s vision of a world where the last are first, faithful to a love that refuses to exclude, faithful even when that faithfulness leads to suffering and death.

Now, at the same time, we must remember how this story began. Jesus did not enter Jerusalem on a war horse, but on a donkey. Not as a conquering general—but as a humble King.

The crowds did not fully understand this. They were hoping for a political savior, someone to overthrow the Roman Empire and restore their power. They wanted a king who would meet their expectations.

But Jesus came to do something deeper. He came not to be served, but to serve. Not to take power, but to give His life.

And so the same voices that cried “Hosanna!” would soon cry “Crucify him!”—because Jesus was not the king they wanted. They did not yet understand that He was the King they needed.

Friends, this is where the story meets us. It is easy to see ourselves in the crowd on Palm Sunday—joyful, hopeful, full of praise. But the harder question is this: Will we stay with Jesus after the parade is over? Will we follow Him into the temple—into places of disruption and truth-telling? Will we walk with Him through the long, difficult days of Holy Week?

Because if we are honest, we often prefer Palm Sunday without Holy Week. We want the joy without the challenge. The celebration without the cost. The promise of resurrection without the reality of the cross. But Jesus does not offer that kind of discipleship.

As Paul writes in Philippians, “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” Though He was in the form of God, He emptied Himself. He humbled Himself. He became obedient—even to the point of death on a cross. And because of that, God exalted Him.

This is the pattern of our faith: humility before glory, sacrifice before resurrection, the cross before the crown. There is no Easter without Good Friday.

So today, Palm and Passion Sunday invites us to hold two truths together: the hope that shouts “Hosanna!” and the love that endures the cross. It invites us not to rush ahead, not to skip over the hard parts, but to stay with the story—to walk with Jesus, day by day.

To gather at the table on Maundy Thursday. To stand at the cross on Good Friday in prayer and fasting. To wait in the silence of Saturday. And only then—to arrive at the empty tomb, with hearts that truly understand what resurrection means.

So take your palm branch today—but do not let it be the end of the story. Let it be the beginning of a journey. A journey that asks not only what happened to Jesus—but what His life and death mean for us now.

Because the one who entered Jerusalem still calls us. Not just to wave branches—but to follow. All the way to the cross. And beyond it—to life. Christ died for our sins paying the penalty for them, and rose from the dead to lead us to eternal life (1 Corinthians 15:3-4)

May it be so for you and for me. Amen.