As we celebrated the beginning of Holy Week yesterday with Palm Sunday, I can't help but to think about the irony of it all.
We celebrate the beginning of a week that ends in death. We celebrate the beginning of a week that causes us to reflect on the actions that took place that week leading up to the Cross. We celebrate the beginning of a week that caused much sorry and many tears for those who were closest to Jesus on this earth, including His disciples and His mother.
As Christians, though, we know the irony only lasts for so long, because while the week ends in death, the death actually ultimately ends in victory. However, I still can't help but think of a parallel irony that took place on that blessed Palm Sunday.
And a very great multitude spread their clothes on the road; others cut down branches from the trees and spread them on the road. Then the multitudes who went before and those who followed cried out, saying:
“Hosanna to the Son of David!
‘Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!’
Hosanna in the highest!”
And when He had come into Jerusalem, all the city was moved, saying, “Who is this?”
So the multitudes said, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth of Galilee.” (Matthew 21:8-11)
On this Sunday, Jesus rides into the city on a donkey and receives praises from the multitudes. They are worshipping Him, giving the praise He is rightly due, and declaring that this is Jesus, this is the Messiah they have been waiting on.
And yet, here is where the irony takes place: the same crowd that honored and worshipped Him on Sunday is the same crowd that yelled "Crucify Him!" on Friday. The same crowd that knew He was the Messiah on Sunday chose to let Barabbas (a robber) go free, keeping Jesus on the Cross, on Friday.
Oh the irony of it all. And oh how easy it is to point fingers and condemn. But oh, what a picture this is of our wretched hearts.
We can place ourselves in the crowd. We are right there with the multitudes. Praising Jesus one day and denying Him the next. Deeming Him worthy of our praise and our lives one day, and forgetting that He is the Son of God the next.
Oh the irony of it all. What a perfect Savior. What a sinful people. What a wretched death. But one we got to go free from, while He took our place on that cross.
He knows the fickleness of our human hearts. He knows our tendency to be wholeheartedly committed to Him one day and denying Him the next, just like the Apostle Peter. Just like this multitude.
And the irony of it all is this: While we were yet sinners, He loved us. He chose us. He came for us. He died in our place. And now we are free. Free to be His. Forever.
We have no way to earn this gift of righteousness or salvation. So He gave it to us. Freely. In His grace. In His death. As a gift.
What a beautiful Savior He is. What a wretched sinner I am.
What a love so deep. That knows and fully understands the irony of it all. And because of the irony, He takes my place, He takes your place, on the Cross.
A Cross that was meant to kill ended up setting us free and bringing forth new life from death.
What a beautiful story. Full of irony. Full of grace. Full of mercy. Full of truth.
What great irony. What greater love.
In His fullness,
Elisha