Palm Sunday Dream

Posted by Lisa Laree to Beer Lahai Roi

I have been very pensive this weekend; not being in a liturgical church, our interaction  with the calendar is minimal.  The message at church this weekend was about the triumphal entry, but the emphasis was on the purpose for which Jesus rode into Jerusalem, not the celebration of the fickle crowds.  We had a long look at the point in the parade at which Jesus tops the Mount of Olives, sees Jerusalem spread out before Him and is so moved by grief over the near-sightedness of the people that caused them to miss His presence that He breaks down and sobs.

In all the church drama productions I've seen that involve the Triumphal Entry, I have never seen that moment portrayed.

So I am feeling rather out of step with folks who are posting lovely things about the celebration of Palm Sunday.  Not that they are in any error, but I'm hesitant to follow the example of those folks who so eagerly welcomed the King and, less than a week later, were screaming at Pilate to crucify him.  I'm not criticizing, you understand, just coming from a different perspective.

I've been reminded of a dream I had sometime ago...particularly since the setting of the dream was that very day and place.  I have mentioned it before in a post, but the gist of it is this:

In the dream, I was in Jerusalem. There was a commotion on the street, and I went over with the crowd of people to see what was going on.

It was Jesus, on the donkey, coming into town. And as I looked at Him our eyes met.

But unlike the folks around me, I knew the rest of the story. I knew He was coming, not to reign, but to die. Moreover, I knew He was taking my place.

Now, I wasn't Barabbas in the dream; I was me, Lisa. And I knew that I was the one who was supposed to be under the death sentence...but that He was coming to take my place.

In the moment of eye contact, I consciously knew that was true.

The crowd pushed us apart, and I wandered down the street in a state of shock, grieving. And woke up.


When I saw The Passion of the Christ the thing that stood out to me the most in that movie was the total commitment of Jesus to See It Through.  He had so many opportunities to go away, to hide, to avoid the schemes of the Sanhedrin...but he didn't yield to any of them.  He prayed, he agonized, but he didn't shrink back. 

He knew what would happen when he rode the donkey into Jerusalem, even if no one around him had been astute enough to listen to all his warnings.  They believed they were welcoming the King to his Throne.

In a way, I suppose they were.  But it wasn't the throne they envisioned.  Not the throne of earthly power...but the throne of the heart.

Since I dreamed about it, Palm Sunday has always seemed rather brittle to me...I can't wave a palm branch and sing 'Hosanna!' when I fully know that Jesus was coming to die for me.

Instead, I want to lay my cloak on the ground and weep as He rides across.