"Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!" The people yell it and praise the King riding into town on a donkey.
We praise the same King in a pew on Sunday morning...with our hearts cleansed and our heads turned upward, we worship.
A short time later, the same crowd that waved the palm branches now shake their fists and cry, "Crucify Him!"
And hours after we leave our House of Worship, we blaspheme our God with our tongues and our actions.
We weep at the Cross and we mourn the tragic death of a King. We rejoice in His resurrection and gaze deep into the eyes of the women at the empty tomb.
Then we live like He's dead and we hammer the nails further and deeper as we serve ourselves and defile the empty tomb with our tongues of malice.
We crumble under the pressure and we cry out to a God we reject over and over. We scream "Crucify Him!" and sing "Hosanna!" all in the same breath. We look in the mirror and weep.
Then...the Lord speaks. The nails can go no deeper. The tomb cannot be defiled. This is why I've come. You can't. I can. It's not about you. It's about Me.
We fall on our knees, weep...and give thanks.