2001 Larry Huntsperger Peninsula Bible Fellowship

4/8/01

I Love A Parade!

4/8/01 I Love A Parade!

Israel knew He was coming.

They knew it as much as they knew of their own existence.

They were the chosen people of God,

once great,

then disobedient,

and now for so many years,

seeking faithfulness in hope of the Messiah promised to them by God Himself.

They knew He was coming.

God would not lie.

God could not lie.

And God had promised,

and what a glorious promise it was.

ISA 9:1 But there will be no more gloom for her who was in anguish; in earlier times He treated the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali with contempt, but later on He shall make it glorious, by the way of the sea, on the other side of Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles.

ISA 9:2 The people who walk in darkness Will see a great light; Those who live in a dark land, The light will shine on them.

ISA 9:3 You shall multiply the nation, You shall increase their gladness; They will be glad in Your presence As with the gladness of harvest, As men rejoice when they divide the spoil.

ISA 9:4 For You shall break the yoke of their burden and the staff on their shoulders, The rod of their oppressor, as at the battle of Midian.

ISA 9:5 For every boot of the booted warrior in the battle tumult, And cloak rolled in blood, will be for burning, fuel for the fire.

ISA 9:6 For a child will be born to us, a son will be given to us; And the government will rest on His shoulders; And His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.

ISA 9:7 There will be no end to the increase of His government or of peace, On the throne of David and over his kingdom, To establish it and to uphold it with justice and righteousness From then on and forevermore. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will accomplish this.

Oh yes!

They knew He was coming.

They had it in writing.

And when He came

He would break the rod of the oppressor,

which surly meant He would crush the power of Rome,

and reestablish Israel as the supreme nation on this earth.

Funny how it is

when you know you are on God’s side,

or more correctly,

when you know God is on your side.

The rest of the world may laugh at you.

The rest of the world may consider you

just a strange little nation

with funny customs

and a strange religion.

But they didn’t know.

How could they?

They had no memory of the mighty things

God Himself had once done.

They didn’t remember Moses,

and the destruction of Egypt who dared to stand in the way of God’s chosen people.

They didn’t remember the conquering kingdom under David,

or its great majesty under Solomon.

Those other nations had no Sampsons in their history,

no walls of Jericho tumbling down.

And one day it would all happen again,

when HE came on the scene.

The longer I live

the less critical I find myself becoming

of so many of the things I see in ancient Israel’s relationship with God.

In the time of Christ

Israel was a nation living in oppression under Rome,

waiting for God

to bring about the great deliverance He had promised them.

And when they thought about that deliverance

they just knew it would include

freeing them from their pain,

and freeing them from their oppression,

and bringing them great prosperity.

Surely any God worthy of the title

would do this.

And when I look at my own flesh-based expectations of God,

and the things I want Him to do in my life personally,

I find some remarkable parallels.

“Lord, make my pain stop.

Lord, make my life easy.

Lord, meet all my wants in abundance.”

But first century Israel knew their Messiah was coming,

and of course they knew what He would look like,

and what He would do.

And that is what caused all the problem when He finally came.

It wasn’t that He didn’t have the power they had been expecting.

The truth is,

Power flowed out of Him.

He possessed it as no human being had ever possessed power before.

But right from the very start

He used it all wrong.

From the very beginning

all He seemed to care about

were individuals.

He healed,

Oh My! How He healed!

But it was always just one person at a time.

One individual,

one sickness,

one disease,

one tiny, personal need at a time...

Many years ago

I attended a church service

to which a man who claimed to have a special healing gift was coming.

He claimed to know things,

secret things from people’s pasts,

things that were still causing them turmoil and distress in their lives today.

It was fascinating to watch him work.

He saw a teenage girl in the audience.

He pointed at her

and told her she had been forgotten at home by her parents when she was very young.

She didn’t remember the incident,

but she had been deeply troubled

by a fear of abandonment ever since.

He would heal her from her hidden agony.

He healed all sorts of people

from all sorts of things,

but then time was running out,

and there were so many of us

who still needed healing.

So he decided to do a mass healing for us -

to free us all from all our bondage at once.

He had us cross our arms,

and then at his signal

we were all to open our arms wide

and the bondage would be gone.

I was in my early twenties at the time.

I had lots of bondage.

I very much wanted it all to go away.

I did exactly what he said,

but it didn’t work with me.

It didn’t take long before I realized

all of those same pesky bondages

were still raging around inside me.

I suppose it was because I didn’t have enough faith.

In the end,

the Lord has had to deal with all of my areas of bondage the old fashioned way -

on step,

on bondage at a time.

And some of the healing

has involved a great deal of pain,

and learning,

and forgetting,

and learning again.

And some of the bondage still continues on.

But I must say,

my Lord and I have become very good friends in the process.

But when Jesus was here in the flesh,

presenting His credentials as the promised Messiah,

why didn’t He do some of those mass healings?

I mean, surely He could have really pulled it off,

and made it stick.

It would have speeded everything up so very much.

That grand event where He fed those 15 or 20 thousand people all at once,

that would have been a great time for it.

He could simply have stood up in front

and proclaimed to the crowd,

“Oh dear! I am running out of time.

Thank you all for coming,

and to express My gratitude,

I hereby heal you all.”

But it was always,

always just one single person at a time.

It seemed to have to do

with what was happening

between Jesus and that one single individual.

And that wasn’t the only problem.

He used His power all wrong.

If He really was the promised Messiah,

come to break the rod of the oppressor,

and to establish His Kingdom,

a Kingdom that would never end,

then why didn’t He use His power

to attack

and to destroy the hated Rome?

But, not only did He not attack the Roman legions,

but He even showed some of them compassion,

and healing,

and love.

That Roman Centurion, for example...

How could He have honored that man’s request for the healing of his servant?

And then Jesus turned around and honored him, this pagan Roman soldier,

by holding him up as a greater example of faith than anyone in Israel.

And how in the world

were people suppose to trust a Messiah

who, when He was asked about paying taxes to Caesar,

said that His people were to, “... render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's; and to God the things that are God's.”?

There was simply no way

that kind of Messianic philosophy

was going to get done

the things that needed to be done.

This is Palm Sunday,

the day we traditionally set aside

to remember what we call the Triumphal Entry of Christ

into the city of Jerusalem

just a few days prior to His crucifixion.

And as I thought about Palm Sunday this past week

I saw something I don’t recall having seen in the past,

something about myself,

and about the truth surrounding this remarkable event in the life of Christ.

I noticed how much my flesh loves the mental image I have created of that day.

I love the thought of what it would have been like

to be a part of that crowd marching along next to Christ.

Even after all I have learned about the flesh,

about my flesh,

and after all I have come to understand

about what Jesus was really doing that day,

and why He was doing it,

I still love it.

I can see myself marching along in the Mediterranean heat,

sweat running off me,

a palm branch in my hand,

my voice hoarse from cheering

as I trot next to that little donkey on which the Master rides.

I can feel the surge of satisfaction

as I see the multitudes surrounding my King,

proclaiming His right to rule.

I can taste the sweet taste of victory

as I revel in the hope of the coming King.

And the truth is,

I know it’s all wrong.

I know that what was happening that day,

was very likely the most pain-filled day in the life of Christ

prior to the actual crucifixion.

It was the day in which

everyone He loved got it wrong,

the day in which every goal,

and every means for achieving those goals

in the lives of everyone who claimed Him as their leader,

all of them were utterly inconsistent with the truth.

And still,

there is a part of me

that loves the thought

of marching in that crowd,

and a part of me

that honestly believes

Jesus must have enjoyed it,

must have taken some satisfaction in it at some level.

And yet He did not.

He did it,

He planed it,

He permitted it,

He carefully worked it into the total scheme of events

because He knew

it was the only way

to force the rulers of Israel

to crucify Him where and when He wanted them to.

He knew He must create within them

such terror,

such rage against Him

that they would risk anything,

everything,

just to make certain He was executed.

But He took no pleasure in it,

no quite glow of satisfaction

at all the people calling His name,

at all the bold proclamations

that He be instantly crowned the King of Israel.

He took no pleasure in it

because He knew

such a move,

such a plan

was straight from the pit of Hell,

a plan that would have utterly destroyed

everything He had come to accomplish.

And yet,

there is a part of me

that loves the thought

of marching in that procession,

a part of me

that longs for the sight,

and the sound,

and the power of the masses.

And what we never seem to realize

is that in Christ

there are no masses,

no marches,

no rallies,

no movements.

There are only individuals.

The Lord does not love you

because you are part of His group,

a member of His church,

a loyal participant in His movement,

a signer of His statement of faith.

He loves you

because you are you,

and He delights in you

because you are His.

I need to be very careful

with what I am about to say,

because it can so easily be misunderstood,

but I also know I must say it,

because I know the subtle urgency

with which the flesh

eagerly seeks an alternative

to personal intimacy

and personal submission to the King.

I know the way the flesh

earnestly seeks for some way

to feel as though it has done something

without having to go through the pain

that nearly always accompanies real change.

Do you know that in the entire recorded history of the early church,

there is not one account

of any New Testament Church leader

ever hosting a rally

or organizing a march?

I am certainly not saying

that it is wrong for Christians to rally,

or march,

or join some movement.

I’m simply saying that if we do,

when we do,

we should not confuse the rally

or the march

or the movement

with any real changes taking place within us.

You see,

I think many...well, actually I think most of us come to the King

clinging to the hope

that there is some way in which

we can somehow “Christianize” Palm Sunday.

And the truth is, there is not.

There is no march that has the power to change the human heart,

no rally that can free the masses from bondage.

Because, you see,

from the very beginning

there have never been any masses in the family of God.

There have always, only been many, many individuals,

with each of them entering into their own private audience before the King,

making their own personal choices in His presence.

The Jewish people loved Palm Sunday

because it was the one day

when their Messiah acted most like the Messiah they wanted Him to be.

And they never realized

that all of their joyful calibration

brought Him no joy whatsoever.

I find it fascinating

to read the description of Jesus’ response to that great procession:

We are told in the Gospel of Luke,

that, with tears streaming down His cheeks,

He looked over Jerusalem and said,

“If you had known in this day, even you, the things which make for peace! But now they have been hidden from your eyes. For the days will come upon you when your enemies will throw up a barricade against you, and surround you and hem you in on every side, and they will level you to the ground and your children within you, and they will not leave in you one stone upon another, because you did not recognize the time of your visitation.”

He did not want their cheering allegiance to His cause,

He wanted their personal submission to Him.

We have two remarkable days recorded

nearly back-to-back for us in Scripture.

One of them pictures thousands of cheering people

all praising God and proclaiming Him King.

And on the other,

one Man hangs alone,

dying on a cross.

On the first day

the will of the flesh is done,

the will of man.

It feels good.

It looks great.

It sounds wonderful.

And in the end it changes nothing,

it changes no one.

And on the second,

the will of God is done,

and it changes the world forever.