Dear friends,
I’ve never known such a surreal time. Sundays are especially difficult to grasp. Still, the Spirit of God is at work in powerful ways. As overwhelmed as I am at times by fear and loss, I am also overwhelmed by gratitude.
I give thanks to God for you!
Here is today’s Palm Sunday worship service in its entirety:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1l4qoFxRvxshttp://
And here’s the link to the bulletin: https://drive.google.com/.
Today’s sermon is based on the following readings:
Philippians 2:5-11
5Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, 6who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, 7but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, 8he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross. 9Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, 10so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
Matthew 21:1-11
1When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, 2saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. 3If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.” 4This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying,
5“Tell the daughter of Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”
6The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; 7they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. 8A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. 9The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting,
“Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
10When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” 11The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”
Beloved of God, grace and peace to you in the name of Jesus.
Here we are. Palm Sunday 2020. Passion Sunday. Each year, on this day, I’m aware of how swiftly things changed in the life of Jesus and his followers. One day he’s entering into Jerusalem, welcomed as the long-expected Messiah, worshiped as a Savior. And over the course of just a few short days the crowds are no longer shouting Hosanna, but Crucify him! Jesus is no longer lauded, but derided, despised, betrayed, abandoned, nailed to a cross to die. One of my favorite holy week hymns, My Song Is Love Unknown, describes the abrupt change this way: Sometimes we strew his way and his sweet praises sing; resounding all the day hosannas to our king. Then “Crucify!” is all our breath, and for his death we thirst and cry.
This year, as a global community, we’re experiencing—viscerally—how incredibly quickly our lives can change. Things we took for granted just weeks ago are now off limits. We’ve been forced to find new ways to connect with one another, new ways to provide for our daily needs, new ways to care for our neighbors, new ways to learn, new ways to teach, new ways to do just about everything we did before. And even the things that have remained the same feel different in the context of this changed landscape.
Carrie Newcomer’s song, The Slender Thread¸ has been speaking to me in these days. She sings: I never knew it could come to this, that the world I knew would no longer exist. Could we ever have imagined this? Could we have imagined just weeks ago that this would be our life? Our world? Could the followers of Jesus, entering into Jerusalem with him that day, seeing the palm branches laid at his feet, ever have imagined that the cross was coming? He had told them it was coming. He had tried to prepare them. But they couldn’t imagine it until it was happening. I can relate to that in these days. Maybe you can too.
The recurring refrain of The Slender Thread sounds to me like a prayer: So look up and bless every guiding star; we’ve worked so hard and come so far. And home is still wherever you are, holding on to the slender thread. There are so many moments lately where I feel like I’m just barely holding on by a slender thread. But home is still wherever God is. And where is God? Right beside me. Right beside you. As quickly as things changed after Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, one thing remained the same: Jesus. Jesus was there. Jesus was present to the ones who loved him and the ones who rejected him and denied him. Jesus kept on embodying the grace and love of God. That didn’t change. Not then. Not now.
Listen to one of the stanzas of The Slender Thread and imagine that this is God speaking to you: I’ve been spooling out a thread from my heart to you. Don’t give up on me whatever you do. I’m holding on to the slender thread. As we hold on by a thread, God is holding on to that thread. God is spooling out that thread from God’s heart to yours. When everything changes, God’s perfect—present—love for you and for this world is unchanging, steady, certain, sure.
As we enter into this Holy Week, may we experience God’s love as a present reality in our changed lives, a slender but sturdy thread that holds us close when we feel far apart. God’s love for this world is a love that suffers, a love that labors, a love that refuses to stand far off but enters into the sorrow and the despair alongside us. God’s love is a love that births us through sorrow and suffering, through even death, to life.
Ten years ago, in the early hours of Palm Sunday 2010, I was laboring to give birth to our youngest son. On his birthday this year, in those early morning hours when ten years before we welcomed him into this beautiful and brutal world—I wrote about God’s love delivering me from that long, surprisingly difficult labor:
I labored through the night. I was surrounded by support, but there were long stretches when I felt frightened and alone. I didn’t know how to do this in the dark, when I was so tired, so alarmed by how hard everything was—not just this birth, but everything at that time. Every single thing felt hard. Nothing was coming easy. Why should this baby be any different?
And then, when I feared I couldn’t continue…
when I was overwhelmed by the waves coursing through my spent body…
..when the sun was nearing but wasn’t there yet…
…my son was born.
Logan was born on Palm Sunday. Passion Sunday.
He was born out of suffering and sorrow.
He was born out of fear and weariness.
He was born out of labor and rest.
He was born out of solitude and support.
He was born out of the longest night.
I caught him as he came. I held him in the water of that small, makeshift pool as God delivered him and me, washed us in waves of grace, and baptized us in the promise of abiding, through-the-night love. Passionate love. Love that suffers. Love that labors. Love that births us to life.
May the sturdy, slender thread of God’s love—a thread that connects God’s heart to yours—inspire you to breathe through this unexpected labor, empower you to push when needed and rest when necessary, remind you that you do not labor alone, empower you to love and to trust and to have compassion on yourself and others. No matter where this road leads, Jesus will continue to journey beside us, embodying the grace and love of God.
He’ll walk with us to the cross. He’ll go with us even into the depths of hell. And when we emerge from the grave that tried to claim us, Jesus will be there calling us out to life abundant, unbinding us to love wholeheartedly.
You do not labor alone. Amen.
*Listen to Carrie Newcomer’s The Slender Thread:
Stacey, you have such a lovely way of tying your experience to the broader message (like: a thread that connects God’s heart to yours—inspire you to breathe through this unexpected labor, empower you to push when needed and rest when necessary, remind you that you do not labor alone, empower you to love and to trust and to have compassion on yourself and others.). Thank you!
Thank you so much, Mary!