My father was a twin! His twin brother, my uncle, is Donald Bell. Ronald and Donald were
identical twins! In fact, my grandmother had another set of identical twins—my aunts
Darleen and Doreen. So out of the nine children she had, two sets of them were twins!

You can imagine that in a house full of kids running around, with similar identities, there
were mistaken identities. I can only imagine how often my grandparents would call,
correct, or try to corral one child—only to realize the child in front of them was the wrong
one—actually, they meant to get the attention of someone else.

Do you suppose that is what happens in the Gospel text for this week—Jesus’ triumphal
entry into Jerusalem?

Do you think that what the children of Israel wanted, when they waved the palms and
shouted, “Hosanna! Hosanna!” … was in fact someone else—and not the Jesus who really
showed up?

It would make sense.

When the prophet Zechariah spoke of a king entering slowly and riding on a donkey to
reclaim justice, it is possible that the expectation of was of a king coming to exact
judgment, take authority, reposition the oppressed, and stage a governmental takeover? It
is easy to read Zechariah 9 that way and assume that this possibility was deeply rooted in
Israel’s imagination as they watched Jesus descend from the Mount of Olives and rode into
Jerusalem that day.

They were looking for a different king!

What is revealing about this moment is that when Israel realized they did not get the king
they shouted for, instead of leaning into what the moment could offer them, they shifted—
from “Hosanna! Hosanna!” to “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” They chose the release of a
killer named Barabbas over the acceptance of a healer named Jesus.

It is easy to look at that moment and point out its extremeness.

But the question for us is this:
What do we do when the Christ we prayed for is not the one who shows up?

When the quick victory we prayed for turns into the long-suffering, character-building
journey we never asked for? When the easy answers we sought in prayer becomes a season
of silence and stillness that leads us down an unknown path we actually needed? What do
we do when the rescue we hoped for is replaced by trials and tribulations that end up
shaping and refining our faith?

What do we do when the Christ we prayed for… is not the one who shows up?

Palm Sunday gives us an opportunity to reflect:

Will you continue to cry out “Hosanna,”
or will you whisper, “Crucify Him”?

My hope is that we reflect on the Christ who did show up—
the One who walked on water for us,
who healed us when we were broken,
who raised us when we felt dead,
who forgave our sins,
who freed us from lives of suffering,
who gave us joy, peace, and wholeness as gifts…

and who chose to take off heaven’s crown for our sake,
and replace it with one made of thorns—
so that we might have life forevermore.

My hope is that when you reflect on the Christ that we actually received,
versus the one we shouted for,
you will continue to cry out:

Hosanna. Hosanna. Hosanna in the highest.
Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Amen.

Dr. Ron Bell, II