The Sunday before Easter--yesterday--is termed Palm Sunday. Just four days prior to the crowds shouting, "Crucify Him!" the multitudes praised Him as King--in hopes that He would be their national Redeemer. They had just witnessed Him raise Lazarus from the dead--a miracle that sent the region into an uproar of excitement. And now He rode into Jerusalem on a colt.
There was no army or sword or pomp--as typically leading a kingly entrance. There were no flags or chariots or trumpets--at least not in the physical realm. He did not wear a crown with priceless gems, in fact his head didn't have a home. But thousands shouted, "Hosanna!"--an exclamation of adoration to the Lord--while laying down their clothes as His royal carpet and waving branches of palm in praise.
His presence demanded a choice--then and now. Grown men left everything to follow Him. Multitudes whispered and flocked to see His signs. Others despised from envy and rejected in fear. But His character insisted the heart to choose.
So, who do you say He is?
You are King, o Lord. You are King.