You know, I’ve read about the Triumphal Entry of Jesus into Jerusalem more times than I care to count, but one thing always escaped me. Until today.
I knew that it happened on Sunday morning — the first day of the week, the day immediately following the Sabbath.
I knew that He rode in on a donkey — not just any donkey, but a colt, perhaps the most unwieldy of all mounts, being both stubborn and unbroken.
I knew that He entered the city in that day’s version of a ticker tape parade, amidst praise and expectations of His impending coronation as King, finally throwing off the yoke of Rome.
I knew that His journey through the city led Him to the entrance to the Temple, before finally calling it a day.
…but I never really thought about what that meant, taking everything in context.
Imagine it — the expectations, the prophecies, the OPPORTUNITY for Christ to capture the nation, and through the nation, the world! I mean, He’s God in the Flesh! How difficult would it really have been for Him to go forth and conquer?
But that moment… that last moment, where He stood in the court of the Temple, gazing past the animals and the money changers, into the very center of Jewish culture, the one place in all the universe that was specifically DESIGNED for Him.
And He stopped short. Rather than march boldly forward and seize what was rightfully His, an earthly crown and kingdom that was both literally and figuratively within SPITTING distance, He turned back.
I gotta wonder if that moment, that single moment in all of eternity, were not the most tempting of Jesus’ earthly life — more than Satan’s temptation on the mountain top, and rivalling even the night in Gethsemane where He pled for His life, that the cup of His sacrifice pass from Him.
Then I realize, as high as that reality might have been, God had set His sights even higher.