Today is Palm Sunday. Everyone's happy, singing and shouting hosanna--which means "God, save us now!", for those of you who aren't familiar with the language of the Jews. Everyone is thrilled with the One riding down the hill from on the donkey from Bethphage through the Valley of Gihon then back uphill again to Jerusalem. Despite the crowd cheering, He stopped and wept. No, not for himself and his trials to come, but over Jerusalem and her future. He knew that in forty short years, the Romans would surround the city and kill the men, women, and children--either by the sword, the cross, or starvation.
That's like Him, you know. Always more concerned for others than Himself. This isn't a day of gladness for Him. I watch from the sidelines, quiet and wondering. Does He know? Does He wish He could disappear, deny His Kingdom? He could always earn a living as a carpenter and sidestep the coming Event.
And yet, He goes on. Why?
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