The King Who Came Humbly
The Parade We All Join: Wrestling with Our Expectations of Jesus
Picture a parade in your mind. Not just any parade, but one filled with anticipation, excitement, and hope. The streets are lined with people, their expectations running high, waiting for something—or someone—extraordinary to appear.
This is the scene we find on that first Palm Sunday. Hundreds of thousands of people had gathered in Jerusalem for Passover. The city was under Roman occupation, tensions were simmering, and hope for liberation hung thick in the air. The people were desperate for a political king, a conquering hero who would rescue them from their oppressors.
Into this charged atmosphere, Jesus rode on a donkey.
The Deliberate Choice
It's easy to gloss over this detail, but Jesus' choice of transportation was anything but accidental. In a world where horses symbolized war, conquest, and military might, Jesus deliberately chose a donkey—an animal associated with peace and humility.
Matthew makes this connection explicit, pointing back to the prophet Zechariah: "See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey" (Zechariah 9:9).
Every action Jesus took was saturated with meaning, especially in moments as significant as this. He wasn't making a fashion statement or simply fulfilling a prophecy for the sake of checking boxes. He was making a deliberate theological and political statement: His kingdom operates differently than any earthly kingdom.
Warriors ride horses. The Prince of Peace rides a donkey.
The Wrong Kind of Salvation
As Jesus entered Jerusalem, the crowd erupted. They spread their cloaks on the road, cut branches from trees, and shouted, "Hosanna to the son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!" (Matthew 21:9).
"Hosanna" means "save us now." It's a cry for deliverance, a desperate plea for rescue. But here's the critical question: Save us from what?
The crowd wanted salvation from Rome. They wanted political freedom, military victory, and the restoration of Israel's earthly glory. They were celebrating what they thought Jesus would do—overthrow their oppressors and establish an earthly kingdom.
But Jesus came to overthrow something far more insidious: sin and death. He came to bring freedom from spiritual bondage, not merely from earthly authorities. This was the kingdom of heaven He proclaimed—a kingdom that functions on entirely different principles than the kingdoms of this world.
The crowd was celebrating the wrong kind of salvation.
Our Modern "Hosannas"
Before we judge that ancient crowd too harshly, we need to examine our own hearts. When we cry "Hosanna," what are we asking to be saved from?
Are we asking God to fix our circumstances, restore our finances, heal our marriages, or resolve our conflicts? None of these requests are wrong in themselves. But are we equally passionate about asking Him to transform our hearts, forgive our sins, and free us from spiritual bondage?
If we expect Jesus to function primarily as our earthly problem-solver—our cosmic vending machine who dispenses blessings when we insert the right prayers—then we're making the same mistake the Palm Sunday crowd made. We're asking Jesus to be something He never came to be.
He never came to give us primarily earthly victories. He came to give us spiritual victory.
From "Hosanna" to "Crucify"
By Friday of that same week, many voices that had shouted "Hosanna" were crying "Crucify!" What happened in those few short days?
Disappointment happened. Unmet expectations happened. The realization that Jesus wasn't going to be the king they wanted Him to be happened.
Jesus was always clear about His mission. He never promised to establish an earthly kingdom. He never promised to overthrow Rome. He never promised that following Him would be easy, comfortable, or politically advantageous.
But when people's expectations collide with reality, disappointment can quickly turn to anger and abandonment.
The King Worth Following
So who is this king we're called to follow? Philippians 2:5-11 paints a stunning portrait:
Jesus, "being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage. Rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross."
This passage reveals four movements in Jesus' journey: His pre-incarnation glory, His incarnation as a human, His humiliation on the cross, and His ultimate exaltation where every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.
Here's the truth we often want to avoid: The road to the crown goes through the cross.
We want the crown—the glory, the victory, the triumph, the blessings. But we don't want the cross—the suffering, the sacrifice, the self-denial, the hardship.
We want a Savior who hands out crowns without requiring crosses. We want resurrection without crucifixion. We want glory without humility.
But that's not how the kingdom of heaven works.
The Hard Question
Here's the question we all need to wrestle with: What would make you leave the parade?
The question isn't whether we've been at the parade, singing Jesus' praises, filled with awe and expectation. Most of us have experienced those mountaintop moments of worship and devotion.
The real question is: When we realize the King isn't what we expected Him to be, will we stay at the parade?
What would make you walk away?
Would you leave if your prayers weren't answered as expected? If Jesus asked you to give up everything? If following Him led you through valleys instead of keeping you on mountaintops? If being a Christian meant making Jesus first in every area of your life, relegating your own desires to second or third place?
Would you leave if the church—imperfect, flawed, filled with broken people—hurt you or disappointed you?
These aren't hypothetical questions for many people. They're the very real struggles that lead people to deconstruct their faith and walk away from Jesus entirely.
Who Jesus Really Is
The antidote to disappointment with Jesus is knowing who Jesus actually is, not who we wish He would be.
Jesus is who Scripture says He is. We cannot remake Him in our image. We cannot transform Him into a more comfortable, convenient, or culturally acceptable version.
The gospel transforms us; we don't get to transform Jesus.
This means diving deep into Scripture, wrestling with the real Jesus—the one who rode a donkey, who washed feet, who touched lepers, who ate with sinners, who challenged the religious establishment, who spoke hard truths, who demanded radical discipleship, and who died a criminal's death on a cross.
This Jesus doesn't promise to make your life easy. He promises to make your life meaningful. He doesn't promise to give you everything you want. He promises to give you everything you need. He doesn't promise comfort. He promises His presence.
Staying at the Parade
The crowd on Palm Sunday had expectations. When those expectations weren't met, many left. Some even became hostile.
But some stayed. Some watched Him die. Some witnessed the resurrection. Some devoted their entire lives to proclaiming His name, many eventually dying as martyrs.
The difference wasn't in their circumstances. The difference was in their understanding of who Jesus really was.
As we reflect on Palm Sunday, let's examine our own expectations. Let's ask ourselves honestly: Have we made Jesus into something He never promised to be? Are we willing to follow Him even when He leads us to places we'd rather not go? Can we worship Him even when He doesn't answer our prayers the way we hoped?
The parade continues. The question is whether we'll stay—not because Jesus meets all our expectations, but because we've finally understood who He truly is: the humble King, the suffering Servant, the resurrected Lord, the one who conquered sin and death so that we might truly be free.
That's a King worth following, even when the road leads through a cross.
Picture a parade in your mind. Not just any parade, but one filled with anticipation, excitement, and hope. The streets are lined with people, their expectations running high, waiting for something—or someone—extraordinary to appear.
This is the scene we find on that first Palm Sunday. Hundreds of thousands of people had gathered in Jerusalem for Passover. The city was under Roman occupation, tensions were simmering, and hope for liberation hung thick in the air. The people were desperate for a political king, a conquering hero who would rescue them from their oppressors.
Into this charged atmosphere, Jesus rode on a donkey.
The Deliberate Choice
It's easy to gloss over this detail, but Jesus' choice of transportation was anything but accidental. In a world where horses symbolized war, conquest, and military might, Jesus deliberately chose a donkey—an animal associated with peace and humility.
Matthew makes this connection explicit, pointing back to the prophet Zechariah: "See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey" (Zechariah 9:9).
Every action Jesus took was saturated with meaning, especially in moments as significant as this. He wasn't making a fashion statement or simply fulfilling a prophecy for the sake of checking boxes. He was making a deliberate theological and political statement: His kingdom operates differently than any earthly kingdom.
Warriors ride horses. The Prince of Peace rides a donkey.
The Wrong Kind of Salvation
As Jesus entered Jerusalem, the crowd erupted. They spread their cloaks on the road, cut branches from trees, and shouted, "Hosanna to the son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!" (Matthew 21:9).
"Hosanna" means "save us now." It's a cry for deliverance, a desperate plea for rescue. But here's the critical question: Save us from what?
The crowd wanted salvation from Rome. They wanted political freedom, military victory, and the restoration of Israel's earthly glory. They were celebrating what they thought Jesus would do—overthrow their oppressors and establish an earthly kingdom.
But Jesus came to overthrow something far more insidious: sin and death. He came to bring freedom from spiritual bondage, not merely from earthly authorities. This was the kingdom of heaven He proclaimed—a kingdom that functions on entirely different principles than the kingdoms of this world.
The crowd was celebrating the wrong kind of salvation.
Our Modern "Hosannas"
Before we judge that ancient crowd too harshly, we need to examine our own hearts. When we cry "Hosanna," what are we asking to be saved from?
Are we asking God to fix our circumstances, restore our finances, heal our marriages, or resolve our conflicts? None of these requests are wrong in themselves. But are we equally passionate about asking Him to transform our hearts, forgive our sins, and free us from spiritual bondage?
If we expect Jesus to function primarily as our earthly problem-solver—our cosmic vending machine who dispenses blessings when we insert the right prayers—then we're making the same mistake the Palm Sunday crowd made. We're asking Jesus to be something He never came to be.
He never came to give us primarily earthly victories. He came to give us spiritual victory.
From "Hosanna" to "Crucify"
By Friday of that same week, many voices that had shouted "Hosanna" were crying "Crucify!" What happened in those few short days?
Disappointment happened. Unmet expectations happened. The realization that Jesus wasn't going to be the king they wanted Him to be happened.
Jesus was always clear about His mission. He never promised to establish an earthly kingdom. He never promised to overthrow Rome. He never promised that following Him would be easy, comfortable, or politically advantageous.
But when people's expectations collide with reality, disappointment can quickly turn to anger and abandonment.
The King Worth Following
So who is this king we're called to follow? Philippians 2:5-11 paints a stunning portrait:
Jesus, "being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage. Rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross."
This passage reveals four movements in Jesus' journey: His pre-incarnation glory, His incarnation as a human, His humiliation on the cross, and His ultimate exaltation where every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.
Here's the truth we often want to avoid: The road to the crown goes through the cross.
We want the crown—the glory, the victory, the triumph, the blessings. But we don't want the cross—the suffering, the sacrifice, the self-denial, the hardship.
We want a Savior who hands out crowns without requiring crosses. We want resurrection without crucifixion. We want glory without humility.
But that's not how the kingdom of heaven works.
The Hard Question
Here's the question we all need to wrestle with: What would make you leave the parade?
The question isn't whether we've been at the parade, singing Jesus' praises, filled with awe and expectation. Most of us have experienced those mountaintop moments of worship and devotion.
The real question is: When we realize the King isn't what we expected Him to be, will we stay at the parade?
What would make you walk away?
Would you leave if your prayers weren't answered as expected? If Jesus asked you to give up everything? If following Him led you through valleys instead of keeping you on mountaintops? If being a Christian meant making Jesus first in every area of your life, relegating your own desires to second or third place?
Would you leave if the church—imperfect, flawed, filled with broken people—hurt you or disappointed you?
These aren't hypothetical questions for many people. They're the very real struggles that lead people to deconstruct their faith and walk away from Jesus entirely.
Who Jesus Really Is
The antidote to disappointment with Jesus is knowing who Jesus actually is, not who we wish He would be.
Jesus is who Scripture says He is. We cannot remake Him in our image. We cannot transform Him into a more comfortable, convenient, or culturally acceptable version.
The gospel transforms us; we don't get to transform Jesus.
This means diving deep into Scripture, wrestling with the real Jesus—the one who rode a donkey, who washed feet, who touched lepers, who ate with sinners, who challenged the religious establishment, who spoke hard truths, who demanded radical discipleship, and who died a criminal's death on a cross.
This Jesus doesn't promise to make your life easy. He promises to make your life meaningful. He doesn't promise to give you everything you want. He promises to give you everything you need. He doesn't promise comfort. He promises His presence.
Staying at the Parade
The crowd on Palm Sunday had expectations. When those expectations weren't met, many left. Some even became hostile.
But some stayed. Some watched Him die. Some witnessed the resurrection. Some devoted their entire lives to proclaiming His name, many eventually dying as martyrs.
The difference wasn't in their circumstances. The difference was in their understanding of who Jesus really was.
As we reflect on Palm Sunday, let's examine our own expectations. Let's ask ourselves honestly: Have we made Jesus into something He never promised to be? Are we willing to follow Him even when He leads us to places we'd rather not go? Can we worship Him even when He doesn't answer our prayers the way we hoped?
The parade continues. The question is whether we'll stay—not because Jesus meets all our expectations, but because we've finally understood who He truly is: the humble King, the suffering Servant, the resurrected Lord, the one who conquered sin and death so that we might truly be free.
That's a King worth following, even when the road leads through a cross.
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