This is Not what I Wanted

I can’t believe Jesus has the nerve to not give me what I want; He’s not the savior I thought He would be and yet He still calls himself good.

Growing up attending church, I consistently felt strange and uncomfortable on Palm Sunday. The Sunday before Easter Sunday, the Sunday we dressed up like first century Israelites and waved fake palm branches and shouted Hosanna while one of the guys in the church with a beard walked down the center aisle of the sanctuary (we didn’t have the budget or approval for live animals). I had a difficult time wrapping my mind around the people in Jerusalem were so excited about Jesus’ arrival to turn on him five days later. Living in Southern California, I also thought it strange we didn’t just pull real palm branches down from the tree outside, but that is beside the point.

I know the story of Easter. Jesus gets betrayed by his friend, He is tortured and killed as punishment for sin, but because He was pure and didn’t deserve death, because He gave up his blameless life for the broken life, taking punishment, He broke the punishment. Jesus didn’t die. He came back to life. Some have viewed this as the first recorded incident of a zombie, but there’s no record of Him feasting on brains, so I don’t give credence in that. From my own study, I think He was alive again, with a better bod.

I digress.

Palm Sunday. Celebration. Director’s notes, “let’s have a lot of energy. This is the guy that fed five thousand, turned water to wine, brought dead people back to life. He’s the Messiah, let’s get jazzed.” So the scene is set. We’re celebrating the entrance of the King, the redeemer. Get into character. I found it extremely difficult to get into this character, finding the motivation when I thought about this same role I would play Friday night. Here I am on Sunday praising this guy and I know Friday I’ll be screaming “Crucify Him” with the rest of the extras.



Let me start there.The commentary section in my Bible says that this word is transliterated to English. Transliteration is taking a word in it’s original language and spelling the same word in another language, rather than translating it, which would be to use a corresponding meaning. So, Hosanna is the Greek word used here, but it was also transliterated to Greek from Hebrew. Specifically Hosanna was the Hebrew word, meaning “Save now” found in Psalm 118:25 which was a prayer asking for deliverance from enemies, deliverance from oppression.  According to this Bible Dictionary Hosanna was part of prayer used in reference to the Passover and Feast of Tabernacles, an active prayer of gratitude and askance for salvation from oppression linking to the Exodus from Egyptian Slavery.

So, the Israelites are excited and using this prayer/praise word from their holiday tradition in reference to Jesus as the Messiah. Deliverance.

The Israelites had been anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Christ, the Messiah, the one to free them from oppression, and here comes this Jesus into Jerusalem the week of Passover, the week they celebrated and remembered what God did through Moses when he led them out of slavery into their promised land. As Jesus entered this town there was an expectation of deliverance, of freedom, from what, or rather from whom?

A quick google search reveals that the Romans conquered Jerusalem just under 100 years prior to this moment. While Rome is known for it’s achievements and prowess as a conquering kingdom, it’s not quite known for kindness and generosity. Some reading through the Gospel writings reveals that the general populace were not fans.

It doesn’t take a lot to figure out now why the people are so jazzed about Jesus. Redeemer. The one spoken of to take the people out of oppression. He’s their contemporary Moses. He’ll lead them out of under the thumb of Roman rule. Perhaps not a great Exodus from Jerusalem, but an ousting of military might. A would be king to replace Caesar.

What could possibly go so wrong?

Now the Roman rule allowed the people to still worship in their synagogues and follow the leadership of the religious teachers of the time, but it seems the odd government allowed for a power dichotomy from the religious rulers and the lay people (everyone else). It is the unfortunate pattern that people will use whatever is at their disposal to gain power, control over others, even something that is disguised with benign belief. There were a few individuals who were not super stoked about someone overthrowing the current regime which allowed them to wield such power.

The first story told after Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem is everyone’s favorite Jesus story with turning tables. Jesus is angry. He’s so incensed He causes a scene. The religious leaders have been levying their power to line the offering baskets. At Passover the people of Israel had to make a sacrifice in the temple of a pure lamb, but not everyone had a perfect lamb, so they could purchase one at the temple. Basically these offering shops were set up to abuse the poverty of the people. It perpetuated a system of economic disparity. The church remains wealthy and the people are poor. Jesus gets upset.

Okay, so off the bat Jesus is showing that things are changing. I’d assume that for the general public this is welcome, but for some of the church elites, this is problematic. Jesus also tells the story of the sheep and goats during His time in Jerusalem, another win for those in need. Jesus makes it clear that those that know Him, know His father (YHWH) are definitely caring about those in need.

So, why still did we not have Jesus as the populist King of Israel borne on the backs of the down and out itching for political reform.

John mentions a time where Jesus knowingly avoids some people because they try to force Him to be their revolutionary (John 6:15). Within the parables told between the Triumphant Entry and the Lord’s Supper, Jesus shows more of His intentions, of the specific nature of His kingdom and what the Messiah came to do. One of the most notable moments comes when some of the Teachers of the Mosaic law come to Jesus to trap Him in a bipartisan argument (Mt. 22:15-22; Mk. 12:13-17; Lk. 20:20-26). They ask Jesus if taxes should be paid to Caesar. Should the “Kingdom of God” pay fealty taxes to a conquering King? If Jesus was to say no, siding with revolutionaries, He would be committing treason. If He said yes, He was acknowledging Roman right to rule, and not the “redeemer” that people wanted.

He basically said yes and no. He called them out on their hypocrisy. The denarius was the money utilized throughout Jerusalem by Romans and Israelites alike. How could they use the common currency without themselves acknowledging Roman rule. He said, give them taxes out of the Roman currency they used. He was also cluing the people into what kind of King he was not.

I think Jesus reveals His intentions again when He is anointed in Bethany as told in Matthew and Mark. The disciples are frustrated that she would waste so much money that could be shared with the poor. Even the disciples think they know what kind of Messiah Jesus is, upturning the waste of the wealthy for the spreading of funds.

Jesus says something upsetting, “The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them anytime you want.” (Mk. 14:6).

I used to think Jesus was being a little hypocritical here, uncaring about poor people. But in context with the rest of His work and words, I don’t think Jesus is saying not to help the poor, in fact far from it. I think He was actually calling out the disciples and their smug, judgment. In this moment Jesus also makes clear that though we are to help the poor (obviously should do it whenever we can) that His Kingdom is not solely about public works and infrastructure.


Save us! Thank you for saving us!


Jesus came to save. Messiah!


But not in the traditional sense. He’s not Che Guevara. He’s not Moses. He’s not George Washington. He’s not Cesar Chavez. He’s not William Wallace. He’s not Maximilien Robespierre. He’s not Malcolm X. He’s not Martin Luthor King Jr. He’s not Vladimir Lenin. He’s not Mahatma Gandhi. He’s not Toussaint L’Ouverture.

And historically that made people mad.

It would’ve been simpler, if He was. His death may have still been imminent, perhaps later, but it would’ve been less remembered.

He arrived the first day of the week to adulation, but He wasn’t what they wanted. They wanted to have the world change for them, but He said people had to change for the world. What’s worse, He said they couldn’t do it on their own. I think that’s what really bothers people about Jesus (I know it bothers me a lot). There’s not a five step process to save myself. I need Jesus.

That’s it. He is the Messiah, the Christ, the redeemer. Savior. Salvation. But from what? A flaw, not in the design, but in application of design. We are creatures made of physical body, mind, and a spirit. Our lives are dependent on the life force, the spirit of creator. Made for community, for love, for communion with creator. But we have to choose, that’s key in love, in relationship. There has to be freedom of choice. Which means we are free to sever ties from life, from good.

History is evidence of the choice.

If every decision we made was circumvented because it brought  us or others harm, that would not be choice. That would not be freedom. Which means for now, “the poor you will always have with you”. That means separation from good. While there is separation, a broken agreement, there cannot be communion. We can’t engage with someone we’re estranged with until someone does the work to bring unity. In this case, takes the result of separation, death, in the stead of another person. It’s like shooting up but someone else takes the kidney failure, the heart failure. We chose a high over life, and there is an effect.

Jesus did that.

So, this Sunday we celebrate His arrival. By Friday we’ll be crying for his death because He’s not what we want, and you know what, He’s definitely not what we deserve.

You know what else is crazy? He knew. He knew riding in where He was going. He went anyway.

This is why Palm Sunday makes me uncomfortable. I am in that crowd praising Jesus for being a cultural revolutionary, for upsetting the establishment, but I am also in the crowd on Friday. Angry and upset that I am not getting my way. To follow Him means I have to allow those things go. My plans. My wishes. My way. My perception that I can do it on my own. I have to allow Him to take those things with Him upon the cross. I have to admit that I should be the one with nails in my hands. I should be the one eternally separate from life, from good. And I’m angry because He loves me, does this for me willingly. He’s better than me.

I cannot save myself. I am not self-sufficient.

Once I let this go, I can live. I can rise.

Palm Sunday is a lie. It is a celebration of perception. Friday is when the lie dies. Sunday, Easter, is where truth comes to life. Throwing off the dead things that hindered me, I can run my race. I am not in control of my destiny, and I never was, but now I know the one who is and He is good.


Hope Hurts

Let me tell you how.

Hope, according to means, “the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best: to give up hope.” [emphasis mine]

It means that something good will happen. Will, meaning not yet, not right now. Hope is an investment. A belief in some later payoff. Hope hurts because it requires you to wait, to believe that though it may not appear so, things will come out right.

It’s easy to give up hope, to turn to cynicism,  even likes to point that out in it’s example use of the word. It’s much more common to give up on hope than to to hold onto to it. It’s elusive and intangible, and it makes you discontent with the status quo, believing in something better.

Lately I’ve been wanting to go the easy route, to let my circumstances tell me what will be, to ignore the possibilities in the promises that I believe that God has given me. It’s much easier to resign myself to this existence than to live in the current situation of trial knowing at some point it may not be so…does this even make sense?

How could it be that the knowledge that things will be better make it hard to live through difficult circumstance?

Well, to know that there is possible life outside this circumstance and it’s just not accessible yet. That for now I must be in the difficulty waiting and believing for better. How foolish this seems written out. Obviously this is only for a short time, but perhaps the frustration lies that it could not be this difficult now, that the hope is just being held out longer. For you don’t need hope for something that has already been fulfilled, only that which has not been fulfilled requires the hope that it will happen.

Proverbs says something on the matter, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick…” (Prov. 13:12a). You see, the heart becomes sick. It becomes an effort, a chore to carry on believing that the good will happen. That verse continues on to say, 
“…But desire fulfilled is a tree of life.” (Prov. 13:12b). 

Lately God has been building up my hope muscle, stretching it beyond my ability. How long can I hope for what seems impossible?

This past week something terrible happened and through it God stretched my Hope muscle in a different and difficult way. My friend died. She was riding her bike to work early in the morning and she was hit by a truck. It felt like I had been hit by a truck when I got the news. I was floored. I was having a weird day and then I heard this news, I tried to continue to carry on as usual but I couldn’t get out the door onto the floor without sobbing. I left early and went to a friends apartment.

Grief is uncomfortable for a lot of people, because it looks different for everyone and there’s not really an exact science with how to approach it. A lot of times a favorite phrase is, “they’re in a better place”, especially for Christians. Oftentimes that particular phrase is paired with, “we shouldn’t be sad, we should rejoice because they are with Jesus now.”


I mean yeah, but no.

Yes, it’s true she is in heaven with Jesus. It’s true I should celebrate her life, all that she did and that I should rejoice that she is with Jesus, but I miss my friend. I miss the wonderful woman that she was  and brought into my life. I miss her laughter, how she was always was covered in paint from her job. Her obnoxiously loud voice and the way she handled awkward silences (decidedly not well). I miss her love of coffee, the precise amount of cream she needed. I miss how she would share so wonderfully what Jesus was telling her, what she was walking through life with Him in that moment.

I am happy knowing she is with Jesus, and I will see her one day, but I miss her now. I have hope that one day I will see her, but right now I am dealing with the present of her no longer being around, of going to church tomorrow and knowing I won’t see her.

As a source of comfort, I recently read C.S. Lewis’s  “The Last Battle”, the final book in the Chronicles of Narnia. Spoilers: in the end they die and enter Aslan’s Country (a.k.a. Heaven). Upon reaching heaven the characters have a wonderful reunion with all the friends of theirs that have passed. It’s amazing. Aslan says to Lucy Pevensie, “The term is over: the holidays begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning.”

Do you see what I see? The greatest part of heaven is the final hope is fulfilled. We have reached what we were designed for, complete community with the Father and His creation. My friend has reached the hope fulfilled, and I (among many) am waiting on hope.

You know what else, I realized this week? Whatever I am hoping for, I don’t have to wait alone. One of the best ointments to ease the longing that hope creates, the grief that you face when you lose someone, is people who are experiencing it with you, or people who just care and help carry that burden. That first night, we all gathered to tell stories and eat food, to laugh and to weep. The next day, I spent with two amazing men and together we helped carry each other in our grief.

I don’t know if there was a specific point I was trying to get to in this, other than hoping and longing for wholeness is hard and it can be crippling, but when you have a God who cares for you and people who can help, the load is a lot more easy to bear.