Today is Palm Sunday. When I was a child, I loved Easter . . . not just the anticipation of the bunny . . . the whole Easter experience . . . the story of Jesus.
Growing up in the military and going to church was always an experience. While my Grandmother Hahn took us to her "Disciples of Christ" church (and the church that stays near and dear to my heart), my Grandmother Cochran took us to a couple of different churches (though mostly Southern Baptist) . . . but churches in the military were something else. The doctrine was determined by the religious ties of the minister, and they were all different. Sometimes we were Presbyterian . . . Methodist . . . Church of Christ . . . whatever. I didn't really grow up confused by all of the different preachers, but I did grow up with an open mind about religious views as well as a solid foundation in the Bible . . . they all taught from the Bible.
What I do recall from my early years was that Easter, far more than any other religious holiday, was the most important. While the birth of Jesus is significant, the culmination of his teaching along with the fulfillment of God's promises didn't occur until the death of Christ . . . the day when sin was taken on by God's son . . . and grace given to sinners . . . no questions asked. These are the teachings that, in my opinion, make or break a Christian . . . when you learn that no matter HOW good you are, the only way to Heaven is to accept that He died for us . . . that we are to become as much like Him as possible.
But that's the grown up version.
I loved Palm Sunday when I was a kid because it was the day that children got to line the church and wave palm fronds . . . the branches from palm trees! We got to pretend, for Sunday services, that we were greeting Jesus just like they did when he rode into Jerusalem on the donkey. I was not raised to believe that Jesus was a war-mongering-gonna smite everyone king . . . He was gentle and kind . . . loving . . . patient . . . submissive to the Father. And so I loved this Jesus . . . the one who rode into town on the lowly donkey . . . ready to accept His Father's plan. The palm fronds symbolizing goodness and victory. Solomon had palm branches carved into walls and doors of the temple (1 Kings 6:29) and in Revelation 7:9, people from every nation raise palm branches to honor Jesus
That's not what the people of those times expected . . . they wanted a true king . . . a warrior, riding into town on a magnificent horse, powerful and strong . . . bent on war . . . someone to SAVE them from oppression!
In Eastern tradition it was seen as this: Donkey: symbol of peace vs Horse: symbol of war
But those palm branches . . . I loved being a part of that. I think our church did that one Sunday . . . I miss that and wish that my girls had been able to take part of that tradition.
Revelation 7:9-10 "9 After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. 10 And they cried out in a loud voice:
'Salvation belongs to our God,
who sits on the throne,
and to the Lamb.'"
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