The Pastor’s Pen
The Sound of Palms, Before the Silence
There are certain kinds of noise we welcome without thinking about it. The roar of a crowd. The rustle of leaves. The kind of excitement that rises when something feels like it’s finally going to change.
Palm Sunday is full of that kind of noise.
Branches waving. Voices shouting. Cloaks thrown down like confetti on the road. It is loud in all the ways that feel hopeful – like the beginning of something good, something long-awaited. You can almost hear the relief in it: At last. Here he is.
And yet, if you listen closely, there is another sound underneath it all.
A quieter one.
The sound of a donkey’s hooves on a dusty road.
The sound of a man who knows exactly where this road leads.
The sound of a heart that is not swept up in the crowd because it is already breaking for them.
Because while the crowd is celebrating what they hope will happen, Jesus is carrying what he knows will.
That is the strange holiness of this week.
It begins with cheering, but it moves toward silence.
It begins with branches, but it ends with a cross.
It begins with people who think they understand, and it ends with people who realize they never did.
And still – he comes.
Not because we get it right.
Not because we welcome him properly.
Not even because we stay faithful all the way through.
He comes because that is who he is.
So as we move toward Palm Sunday, maybe the invitation is not just to join the crowd, but to listen more carefully.
To hear both the celebration and the sorrow.
The hope and the cost.
The joy and the love that refuses to turn back.
Because the One who enters Jerusalem does not come to meet our expectations.
He comes to meet us.
Right where we are – waving branches, full of hope, and not yet knowing what love will ask of him… or of us.
See you Sunday!
Pastor Greg
pastorgreg@lawrencevillepresbyterian.org
There are certain kinds of noise we welcome without thinking about it. The roar of a crowd. The rustle of leaves. The kind of excitement that rises when something feels like it’s finally going to change.
Palm Sunday is full of that kind of noise.
Branches waving. Voices shouting. Cloaks thrown down like confetti on the road. It is loud in all the ways that feel hopeful – like the beginning of something good, something long-awaited. You can almost hear the relief in it: At last. Here he is.
And yet, if you listen closely, there is another sound underneath it all.
A quieter one.
The sound of a donkey’s hooves on a dusty road.
The sound of a man who knows exactly where this road leads.
The sound of a heart that is not swept up in the crowd because it is already breaking for them.
Because while the crowd is celebrating what they hope will happen, Jesus is carrying what he knows will.
That is the strange holiness of this week.
It begins with cheering, but it moves toward silence.
It begins with branches, but it ends with a cross.
It begins with people who think they understand, and it ends with people who realize they never did.
And still – he comes.
Not because we get it right.
Not because we welcome him properly.
Not even because we stay faithful all the way through.
He comes because that is who he is.
So as we move toward Palm Sunday, maybe the invitation is not just to join the crowd, but to listen more carefully.
To hear both the celebration and the sorrow.
The hope and the cost.
The joy and the love that refuses to turn back.
Because the One who enters Jerusalem does not come to meet our expectations.
He comes to meet us.
Right where we are – waving branches, full of hope, and not yet knowing what love will ask of him… or of us.
See you Sunday!
Pastor Greg
pastorgreg@lawrencevillepresbyterian.org
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