Palm Sunday – March 28, 2026

Palm Sunday always begins with such color and energy. Branches waving. Children shouting. The crowd pressing in with excitement. Matthew tells us that when Jesus enters Jerusalem, the whole city is stirred up – alive, fluttering like a butterfly just breaking free from its chrysalis. There is movement, hope, new possibility. The people cry out, “Hosanna!” Save us, help us, be the One we’ve been waiting for!

But then we turn the page.

And suddenly the same Jesus who rode in to cheers now stands before Pilate in silence. The same crowds who shouted “Hosanna” now shout “Crucify.” The same city that felt like springtime now feels like winter again. The contrast between Matthew 21 and Matthew 27 is jarring, like watching a tender green shoot get trampled before it has a chance to grow.

And yet, this contrast is exactly why we need Holy Week.

Because our lives look like this too. We know the joy of new beginnings, like butterflies emerging, like seedlings pushing through the soil. And we also know the moments when hope feels fragile, when the world turns harsh, when the cheers fade and the shadows lengthen.

Palm Sunday and Passion Sunday sit side by side because faith is not one or the other. It is both. It is the joy of new growth and the ache of loss. It is the promise of life and the reality of suffering. It is the God who rides a donkey and the God who hangs on a cross.

Our Lenten practice of grateful living does not ask us to pretend the hard parts aren’t real. Grateful living teaches us to look for God’s presence in all of it. In the soil that still looks barren AND in the bright green shoots. In the cocoon that feels too tight and in the butterfly’s wings. In the hosannas and in the silence before Pilate.

Gratitude helps us see that Jesus is present in both stories:
He is present in the parade, receiving the people’s joy.
He is present in the trial, absorbing the people’s fear.
He is present on the cross, giving himself in love.
And he will be present in the garden, where new life will break open again.

This week, we walk that whole journey. And I want to invite you again to walk it with us.

On Maundy Thursday at 7 pm, we gather around a table where Jesus kneels, washes feet, and gives us a commandment rooted in gratitude: love one another as I have loved you.

On Good Friday at 7 pm, we stand at the foot of the cross, not to wallow in sorrow, but to witness a love so deep it refuses to turn away, even from suffering.

On Holy Saturday morning at 10, we keep a brief, quiet vigil. It is a service of waiting, like a seed resting in the dark earth, like a chrysalis holding its breath. It teaches us that God is at work even when nothing seems to be happening.

Each service is a step in the journey from hosanna to alleluia.
Each one helps us see the story more clearly.
Each one prepares the soil of our hearts for Easter’s new growth.

So today, as we wave palms and hear the passion, as we hold joy and sorrow together, may we practice grateful living. May we look for God in the bright moments and in the shadowed ones. May we trust that new life is already stirring beneath the surface.

Because the God who enters Jerusalem in humility is the same God who will rise in glory.
The God who is cheered on Sunday is the same God who forgives on Friday.
The God who dies is the same God who brings life out of the tomb, like a butterfly breaking free, like green shoots pushing through the soil, like hope rising again.

May we walk this Holy Week with open hearts, grateful spirits, and the expectation that God is not finished with us yet. Amen.