John 20: 19-29  ESV

19 On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being locked where the disciples were for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, "Peace be with you." 20 When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples were glad when they saw the Lord. 21 Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you." 22 And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit. 23 If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you withhold forgiveness from any, it is withheld."

24 Now Thomas, one of the Twelve, called the Twin, was not with them when Jesus came. 25 So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord." But he said to them, "Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe." 26 Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." 27 Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe." 28 Thomas answered him, "My Lord and my God!" 29 Jesus said to him, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." †

Omaha Boat Show

So who loves fishing—not the email kind—but real, gritty, out-on-the-lake-worm-on-the-hook fishing? When my family moved from Riverside to Omaha, Nebraska, one of my big hopes was that my dad and I would do some fishing. I looked forward to time like that—just me and my dad out on some lake together—baiting our hooks and waiting for a big one to strike. One of the ways to get ready and really pique one’s appetite is to attend a Fishing/Boating/Outdoorsman Convention, which is what we did. The convention featured thousands of hunting and fishing products as well as hundreds of boats, trailers, tents and RVs.

On our first lap through the convention center, we came to an above-ground pool stocked with fish, for those who were so excited about gettin’ fishin’ that they just couldn’t wait any longer. The scene wasn’t too encouraging. Dads and lads stood around the pool with strings on sticks—worms on hooks—lowered down to the waiting trout. It was kind of sad. There were bits of trash at the bottom—corndog sticks, a couple french fries, bits of popcorn—and I remember watching one boy and his dad going after a particularly large, brown trout. It was huge, swimming lazily toward the edge of the pool. I watched as the boy maneuvered the wormy hook right in front of its mouth. He actually bounced it off the big trout’s nose a couple of times, but the thing wouldn’t bite. I figured that big brown trout must have been the one that ate the corndog.

I remember that incident today as we begin our WIThNESS series wherein our interest is sharpening our witness to the good news of Easter and the gospel of Jesus Christ. American culture has become much like that big, brown trout—filled up with junk, chummed-out on bad bait—no longer hungry and certainly not biting.

America’s growing percentage of “Nones” (people claiming no religious affiliation whatsoever) poses us a challenge as witnesses, for not only do they think they’ve “heard enough” about the gospel, but it is almost guaranteed that what they have heard is either distorted or altogether false. This is our challenge: bringing the good news of salvation through Jesus to people who think they know Jesus but do not, and who don’t believe in any need for salvation.

Reading The Text

Our text speaks directly to our present problem. We have both John’s account of firsthand witnesses to Christ’s resurrection and Thomas’ famous refusal to believe until proven wrong. As we look at the text, let’s keep our ears attuned to our present situation.

The Disciples expect nothing. Jesus has been crucified and they are hiding out in a locked room, cowering in fear lest the same fate befall them. Jesus appears. “Hi guys,” he says. Actually, it’s Shalom—peace to you—but after hundreds of years of use, it is like howdy or aloha.

There is no immediate rejoicing. The Disciples do not jump up with their hands in the air shouting Hallelujah!—nor is it clear that they even recognize him. And why should they? No one told them that Jesus had an exact, identical twin hidden away until this moment (which would have been my first thought). No one had any mental category for resurrection. And this is resurrection, not resuscitation as with Lazarus. Jesus wasn’t bound with bandages and bruises head to toe but appeared to them as the Lord of Life, healthier than ever.

We may sometimes pick on Thomas for his doubt, but let’s be clear: the Disciples are no different; they too needed to see before they could believe. Jesus shows them his hands and side—token reminders of his passion (as well as proof that he is in fact the crucified one)—and then they believe and rejoice.

Thomas wasn’t there. Perhaps he left town or hid out with relatives, but there is an episode not recorded wherein the Disciples meet with Thomas and share their witness and testimony with him. Can we imagine the exchange?

“Thomas—we’ve seen him—he’s risen and alive!”

“Not funny. This is no time to be pulling my leg.”

“No, Thomas, we’re dead serious: Jesus is alive!”

“You’re deluded—what have you guys been drinking?”

“Thomas, don’t be a fool—we get it, now—this was the plan all along. He is risen!”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you guys, but I think this fake news is really pathetic.”

“Thomas! Look at us! Do you think we’re lying?”

“Alright, that’s it. Listen to me, unless I can put my finger into the nail wounds of his hands and my hand into that spear wound on his side, I will not believe!

“Ugh! Really, Thomas.”

They were friends and brothers. They had lived together for three years and been through thick and thin together. Thomas was unwilling to believe simply upon the testimony of others—even his best and closest brothers and friends.

Witness Point #1:  Unless the Spirit moves, we labor in vain. For all our talk about the need to build good relationships before sharing the gospel with others, relationships are not enough. Neither Thomas nor any of the Disciples believed until they saw with their own eyes. Believing because someone else believes it first is no recipe for authentic faith. So let’s be clear: there is no conversion without the work of the Holy Spirit. God must self-reveal to one who doubts; no other convincing, preaching, or sweet evangelizing matters. Unless the Spirit moves, we labor in vain.

Reaching Thomas

Our task in evangelism today is much like that of the Disciples, who had seen the risen Jesus, trying to reach and convince Thomas, who had not seen. No matter how close our relationship, no matter how urgently we insist upon the truth, we are met with skepticism and disbelief.

Not just our unbelieving loved ones, but the entire culture seems to be resistant to faith. It is as if they are coated in teflon or hydrophobic paint, nothing sticks. It is like you’re trying to toss them a basketball covered in olive oil; it just keeps slipping through their hands. They can’t grip it , can’t get ahold of it and may have completely given up even trying. How are we to craft our witness to such people? I can suggest three possible approaches.

1. We could try to clear the system completely. Get them to bring up all the bad information—the corndog remnants—so they can again become hungry for the truth. Not that we can make that happen, but life dishes out traumas, conflicts, and key events that can clear the system temporarily and enable one to have a fresh hearing. This is the chief value of having a good relationship: when those moments arrive in one’s life, we may be there to re-articulate the truth and good news when they are able to hear afresh.

2. We can ignore the Thomases and focus on outliers who haven’t yet been tainted by bad bait—find the fish who didn’t eat the corndogs—in order that they learn rightly the first time. Innocence is becoming a rare commodity in our sophisticated world, but this approach characterizes our Children’s Ministry. We want to get the truth and good teaching into our children’s hearts and minds before the fallen culture has a go at them. We seek to plant the Word first in order that it may be deepest within them.

3. A third approach is to ignore the fish pool altogether—to go elsewhere and find the fish who are hungry and biting.  This is the character of our international missions. There are places all over the world where the simplest announcements of the gospel bring hundreds— even thousands—forward to dedicate their lives to Christ and his kingdom.

Beyond these three possibilities, it seems our task is exactly like that of the Disciples trying to convince their brother Thomas, who disbelieves because he hasn’t seen for himself. Thomas is the perfect picture of today’s world of skepticism and scientific knowledge. If you can’t see it, touch it, taste and measure it, then don’t believe it. How wonderful that Jesus loves us so much as to prepare us for outreach today by giving us Thomas so long ago!

What is our task?

So what exactly is our task? We’ve established that people can’t really be “talked into” genuine belief, nor can they be emotionally manipulated into authentic faith. Real faith and true conversion requires the work of the Holy Spirit. Only God can awaken real faith. In John 6 we read:

No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him. —John 6: 44a

So again, what is our task? Doesn’t it seem futile that we believers should tell the good news to unbelievers if we can’t convince them? Why not just let God do all the work and draw whomever he wills? If there’s no true faith without his working, then we can’t do much good at all, can we?

This answer is half-correct. True faith does require an act of God: it did for the Disciples; it does for us. But just because God’s own touch is required doesn’t mean we are useless. Do you see? God wants us to share in that work and call. Yes, he could do it all entirely without us but he wants us to share in what he is doing. That is why he  commands it.

This means that no matter how we try, you and I will convert no one. Only God converts disbelief to belief. Some people find this idea disappointing, and some evangelicals get quite upset over the thought that they don’t get to convert anyone.

Call it evangelical ego. We want to feel good about our witnessing—to feel like we’ve had some success—to cut a few notches in our bible for the souls we’ve saved, but there’s the problem: you and I do not save souls, only God. And yet, driven by our need to please God and to measure our success as we labor in his vineyard, we count conversions and pat ourselves on the back for a job well done. At its worst, it’s a self-serving evangelism made up of revival one-night-stands, chasing that holy glow feeling from town to town. It’s a bit wrong-headed, because it usually depends upon emotional engineering, over-simplified symbols of conversion (like “the sinners’ prayer”), and measurable numbers.

Positive, Hopeful and Humble

In contrast, we should consider a different character to our witness. One that is positive, hopeful, and humble. We are positive because we know that God will work through us and all we have to do is follow his lead and calling. We are hopeful because we know he is the Savior and is in the business of saving the lost. And we are humble because we begin and end all our evangelistic efforts knowing that any good thing that happens is by his hand and that he gets all credit and all glory for anyone who turns toward him.

Relaxed, Patient, and God-dependent

Therefore, our witness will be relaxed rather than anxious, patient rather than demanding, and totally dependent upon God’s Holy Spirit rather than any kind of self-indulgent self-congratulations over The Lord’s work.

Number s overhead

A comment I’ve heard over the years goes like this: “I shared the gospel with a friend of mine years ago—really shared it—but he rejected the faith. Shouldn’t I persist? I don’t want him to go to Hell. If it’s all up to God and I’ve done my part, then I’m done, right?”

Imagine with me, if you will, people walking around with a numbers over their heads. Each person has a number floating in white above their head. It is a secret number—a number known only to God. It represents the number of times they need to hear the good news of Jesus before the Spirit strikes and they actually get it.

The person with a 3 over their head only needs to have Christ shared with him or her three more times before God converts them. Someone else has 12, and another 32. God intends to save them, but we are here to make those meaningful advances and reduce those numbers to zero.

It could be that they will indeed be saved, but only after our patient persistence.

Question: Why would God do that? Why not just save them?

Answer: For our good.

We need the practice—we need to learn and grow in the same patience and persistence that God showed toward Israel and that he continues to show toward us. We are to share and to persist in spite of their acceptance or rejection of the message.

Therefore it doesn’t matter if your attempts to share are avoided and/or rejected. You are still reducing that number over their head. You don’t know if it’s 3 more times or 33—and it doesn’t matter because you and I don’t need to know—what we do need is to keep playing.

It doesn’t matter if someone says, “No! For the final time, no!”

It doesn’t matter what their worldly background.

God loves every one of them and there is a secret number floating over their heads.

And just so we’re clear here, sharing the gospel does not mean boorishly blabbing out the words or carelessly throwing the gospel around—on T-shirts and bumper stickers, for example— but sharing it personally and heart-to-heart.

This is why we need a Church—the worldwide body of Christ—with millions of people.

This is why we need a diverse Church, because we need lots of people working on those head numbers.

That number over some people’s heads is like a combination lock. It requires just the right combination of person, place and message. God involves you and me in spite of ourselves, and we are used by the Holy Spirit to call, affect and proclaim good news to those who are lost.

Who in your life still has a number over their head? Who do you know who has still not heard the real gospel, but only distorted versions of it? Do you know anyone that has a particularly tricky combination to solve?

Time to go Fishing

Again, it’s not that God can’t do it without us (he can), but rather that he wants us to enjoy a share in his own miraculous saving acts.

Can you even imagine how wonderful it would be to know that God had used you—worked in you and through your hands and mouth—to bring someone you love from death to life?

When we depend upon our own strength—our own good intentions and well-thought-out techniques, we get half-baked conversions at best, and more than likely immunize people against hearing the gospel. But when we depend upon God—let it be his work and his will working through our willing hands—God moves and reveals himself to the lost as their Savior.

After all his doubting and that gruesome ultimatum, Thomas sees Jesus. He sees for himself and in the flesh. Thomas’ response is simply worship: “My Lord and My God!” That is what we hope for and work for—that those God brings into our path would hear—or hear again—how God so loves his people.

I went back to that pool at the Omaha Boat Show after a couple of hours. After watching the water dogs fetching markers in a another pool and after walking through dozens of boats and Winnebagos, I wanted to see what was happening there.

Yes, there were still corndog sticks at the bottom. Yes, there were still lads with their dads trying their hands to snag a fish.  But I noticed that the big, lazy, brown trout was gone.

Someone had persisted. Someone got the right combination. Eventually, that old trout went for the worm and someone knew the joy of taking him home.

Jesus said, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men and women.” Isn’t it high time we baited our hooks?  †

“Waiting for God”

For the past several weeks, we’ve been tracking Jesus’ final week as he taught in the temple. Today we step back in time several days in order to remember his triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Just to refresh your memory, Jesus, the Twelve, and the other followers were making their way up from Jericho, up toward Jerusalem, where all were expecting him to establish his earthly kingdom. Remember how James and John had sidled up to him and asked to sit at his right and his left in the kingdom? The earthly kingdom and triumph were on their minds.

Our story picks up with them approaching the suburbs just over the of the Mount of Olives, in the neighborhoods known as Bethany and Bethphage.

Mark 11: 1-11 English Standard Version

1 Now when they drew near to Jerusalem, to Bethphage and Bethany, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two of his disciples 2 and said to them, "Go into the village in front of you, and immediately as you enter it you will find a colt tied, on which no one has ever sat. Untie it and bring it. 3 If anyone says to you, 'Why are you doing this?' say, 'The Lord has need of it and will send it back here immediately.'" 4 And they went away and found a colt tied at a door outside in the street, and they untied it. 5 And some of those standing there said to them, "What are you doing, untying the colt?" 6 And they told them what Jesus had said, and they let them go. 7 And they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it, and he sat on it. 8 And many spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut from the fields. 9 And those who went before and those who followed were shouting, "Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! 10 Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David! Hosanna in the highest!" 11 And he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple. And when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve. †

Reading The Text

Bethany and Bethphage were not so much towns as neighborhoods. Bethany literally means “House of Figs” and Bethphage means “House of Unripe Figs.” As this story comes right before Jesus’ cursing of the fig tree—which bore no fruit at all—it strikes us as ironic. It seems “House of No Figs Whatsoever” would have been a more fitting name for the area.

Jesus sends two disciples ahead to get the pony with very specific instructions in case anyone objects to them borrowing it. “The Lord has need of it,” they are told to say. Now while there were plenty of 20th-century televangelists who became very comfortable with this kind of language, this is the only time this phrase is used in scripture.

The Lord God is totally self-sufficient. He is without need. He doesn’t need us, nor does he need Jerusalem, nor a planet, nor time, nor the cosmos. He doesn’t need our praise, our good works, our money, or our churches—the Lord God is beyond all need, period—yet here, here alone, we hear the one thing The Lord needed: to borrow a colt for a few hours; specifically, a colt that had never been ridden.

Has it ever occurred to you to think of Jesus as a cowboy? Question: I know absolutely nothing about horses and horsing, but wouldn’t an unridden colt or foal have been difficult to sit upon for the first time? The text says the Disciples put their cloaks on the pony—a makeshift saddle, perhaps, but the text says nothing about magic blankets that can break an unridden horse. Other gospels say it was a donkey or a mule, but not Mark. For Mark, it was a colt, a horse. Whatever the case, Jesus rode into Jerusalem on an unbroken colt, perhaps a minor miracle in itself. The fact that it was unridden suggests a dedicated animal with a sacred or sacramental purpose.

Now the people—the great crowd of followers that traveled with Jesus from the beginning of his ministry—lay their cloaks on the road from the Mount of Olives down into the Kidron Valley and up to the city gates, less than a mile in total. This is the red carpet treatment from the humble crowds.

This is a commoner’s parade. Jerusalem and the surrounding areas are packed with tourists for Passover—which was their Christmas, Easter, and Spring Break rolled up into one. Lots of folks see something going on and get into the action. The crowds are doubled and tripled as the public floods the streets to play along.

I imagine it was the zealots among the crowds—the radicals who hated Rome and called for an end to its occupation of their homeland—to be the first to cry out “Hosanna!” which literally means “Save!” but after centuries of use likely carried the overtones of a battle cry. It’s beautiful that the people cry “Save!” to their true Savior, though they really don’t yet know who he is. Furthermore, his name is Yeshua—Joshua—which in the Hebrew means “he saves.”

They cry “Hosanna! Save!” and their cries come from deep within, because they really do need to be saved. True Israel—the people of God who had been delivered from slavery in Egypt and given the Promised Land, who had fallen again and again into idolatry and been forgiven over and over by a loving Lord—this Israel was now again in a kind of slavery, for their homeland belonged to Rome and—like it or not—they served Rome.

The Romans had set up a puppet council of aristocrats called the Sanhedrin, because they knew that the Jewish populace would not tolerate life under a purely Roman rule. The Romans ruled not because they were dumb, but because they were smart. The wealthiest Jews, who stood to lose the most, were put on the Sanhedrin in order to manage Israel. They were willing to obey Rome as long as they could still pretend at local self-rule. Rome knew that the wealthier Jews would not want to risk the loss of life, limb or land because grassroots uprisings could cause the Romans to come in and wipe them out completely; so the temple establishment sold out. They compromised to keep Rome at arms’ length, but the people knew better.

The people knew they were not free. Roman taxation at 30-plus percent was a constant reminder. They were ruled not by puppet-king Herod, nor by the sell-out Sanhedrin council, but by the Gentile dogs of Rome. When they gather in the streets, lay down their cloaks and cry “Hosanna! Save us!” they cry out for literal deliverance, freedom, and the spiritual integrity of Israel.

We Americans should understand this very well. We are a people whose identity is grounded in the principles of liberty, freedom, and self-rule. We too despise tyrants, overlords, and colonizers. The cry for freedom is the heart of American DNA. Even today, we have people who march the streets of our cities crying out for justice. Black Lives Matter, the Women’s March, Pro-Life marches—all are mobilized by the dream that this land, this country, can be ruled in fairness for all. The cry is for equality—not sameness—but equal opportunity and a fair balance of privilege. The people gather, march, and lift up their voices crying, “O Save!” “Hosanna in the highest!” “Peace! Justice!” and this is Palm Sunday—the collective hopes of an oppressed people crying out for a champion to vindicate their thirst for justice and liberty. Thereby, the legitimate hopes, dreams, and expectations of the people were foisted upon Jesus and his humble pony as he approaches the city gates.

But what exactly did the people expect to happen? From what we know of the coming events, we know that their expectations were in vain. They wanted a true champion, a conquering hero who would give them salvation, but on their own terms. They wanted and expected a political savior, an economic savior, one who could depose Rome and re-establish the glorious reign of King David and Solomon. They had no clue of any other kind of plan, any other kind of success or salvation. Even the Twelve, those closest to Jesus, expected this.

All wanted a worldly victory. They believed that Jesus was a prophet from God—even the Messiah—and that at any moment, the skies might open up and armies of angels would come pouring down out of the clouds to wipe out the Romans, rout out the hypocritical sellouts; purify the temple, the city, and all of Israel, and then stand guard at Israel’s borders forever. They expected this to happen. All wanted a worldly victory—a this-worldly victory—and it is no stretch to say that absolutely no one other than Jesus himself had any concept of salvation on any other terms.

But the day ends in anticlimax. No parting clouds, no angelic armies, and no people’s revolution. The text simply says they go in, look around and then decide that it’s getting kinda late, so they go back to Bethany for the night. I suspect the number of supporters among the crowds was diminished on the next day.

What Kingdom?

It’s easy to sympathize with the people of Israel. They believed in Jesus—at least, that he might be the true messiah. They knew that it was God’s will to deliver Jerusalem because the prophets had proclaimed it. They knew Romans did not belong above them, for they were God’s chosen people—but when nothing happens, what are they supposed to think? “Tomorrow, then?” they ask each other as Jesus leaves the city, “Yes, definitely tomorrow, with the angels and all that.”

Our own zeal can be frustrated as easily as that of the Jerusalem crowds. Sometimes we, too, think we see how God is working or think we know what God wants or will do. We get a good idea of what God’s will is from scripture, so we can say things like, “It is clearly God’s will that people live in peace and justice.” We, too, may cry out, “Savior! Complete your business!” “Hosanna in the highest!” expecting the Lord to deliver earthly, political, and economic justice here and now in a very measurable, this-worldly way.

“Dear Lord, please make So-and-so win (or lose) the next election!”

“Father God, give us success with our efforts!”

“Dear Jesus, let this issue be resolved today, here and now!”

Question: Could it be that the main message of Palm Sunday, above all else, is simply patience? If you and I today could speak to those crowds in the Kidron Valley, what would be our advice to them? What would we like to tell them?

“Cry louder! And get your friends and family to join you.”

“Arm up! Prepare yourselves for the grand revolution to overturn Rome!”

No, of course not. I suspect that you, like me, might want to tell them:

“People—you don’t get it—he’s not that kind of Savior!”

“Listen folks: it’s not about what you want; it’s about God’s plan.”

“Be patient. Keep trusting” and so on.

Our warnings to them are warnings to our own ears as well. When we are distraught, eager for positive changes, or otherwise looking for God to be our personal champion in all things this-worldly, we need to remember that God’s plan is sufficient. Our personal judgment of things is neither sufficient nor even very competent. We criticize the world from within the world, but God judges from Heaven—all-knowing, all-seeing, and all-loving. What we would say to those Palm Sunday crowds we need to say to ourselves: God is in charge, don’t be anxious.

We Cry Out

The Palm Sunday crowds were not really saying, “Hooray for God!” so much as “Hooray for solutions to our personal issues!”

So what are our personal issues—yours and mine? How are you wanting to cry out to God this Palm Sunday? Let’s put ourselves in that Jerusalem crowd of 2000 years ago. Can you see the throngs of people—all happy and hopeful—struggling to catch a glimpse of the man on the colt between taller heads and waving branches? What are your hopes for what he will accomplish? What is it you want him to do? What is it about your life that hungers for a true savior?

We’ve got to believe that plenty of those people had no interest whatsoever in politics, economics, or Rome—but they were there because they had heard that Jesus was a healer and healed people with the power of God. Some people shouted “Save!” because they needed God’s healing power, either for themselves or for loved ones. We get that. We get what it means to feel helpless when the doctors’ deliver a negative diagnosis. We cry out for a savior because, despite all the amazing advancements in science and technology, our mother still suffers Alzheimer’s, or our brother has stage-four cancer or our daughter an inoperable affliction that has yet to even be named. We cry out “Hosanna!” because we want a power that heals.

Others in the crowd are just having a hard time getting by in the world. No matter how hard they try, they can’t seem to get ahead or even break even. They are at their wit’s end because their very best is still not good enough. They’ve tried blaming others—parents, society, and the powers that be—but it doesn’t matter; they’re still caught in a world of treading water with all their might only to gasp for every breath. They cry out “Save!” because they need a break—just a little bit of empowerment—and a moment of rest. And yes, this is also about sin—about those who have tried to walk the righteous path but have tripped and fallen so many times they wonder if they’ll be able to get up again. They think to themselves that maybe it’s not worth bothering to walk that path at all—maybe it’s just time to give up and give in. We need a savior who can clear the hurdles that are too high, too numerous, and apparently beyond our power to clear.

What kind of savior are you needing? What weakness or emptiness in your heart cries out for a savior? Are you ready for the Messiah? Of course, we all feel ready for his power but are we ready for God to act on God’s own terms? Are you wanting God to save you but on your own terms? Or, are you willing to accept God’s plan, God’s timing, and salvation on his terms?

Waiting for God

The people had waited a long time for the messiah. Many pretenders had come and gone—some of them, too, were crucified—but the people thought they were ready for Christ. Palm Sunday is their collective announcement that they were ready.

The parade, unfortunately, isn’t for Jesus; it is for themselves.The irony is that they are cheering for a man making way toward a throne that is like an electric chair.

But the news of Palm Sunday is nonetheless good news. Jesus rides into Jerusalem for real. He is the Son of David, the blessed one who comes in the name of the Lord, the lamb headed for slaughter.

He is the Savior, the Messiah.

He has the power to heal—all the power in the world and more.

He clears every hurdle and high bar.

He is the right path—the only right path.

If you are ready for his coming, take heart; he arrives soon—even today.

He is near, he is here and he has a plan.

Trust. Be patient.

He’s still working on us.

Trust. Be patient.

Easter comes soon. †