The Whole World Has Gone After Him
They had seen this once dead man with their own eyes. They touched his warm skin after it had been cold and lifeless for days. This was their friend - this Lazarus whom Jesus had called back to life after four days extinction in a tomb.
And there was no stopping these friends from telling his story. Everywhere they went it was the only news they shared. This isn’t the type of thing that grows old after a while; it’s not exactly an event that happens often.
It happens never.
Except now, right before them, it had. A man dead was alive again.
The story spread like dandelion seeds caught in a windstorm. It fell on every home and grew in every heart in Jerusalem. So when the town heard that Jesus was coming for the Passover, they gathered cloaks and broke off large palm branches to lay down at his feet as he entered the city.
Hours past as they waited. Children fidgeted with little palm branches, asking if they could go and play. Many had to sit down under the weight of the heat.
Thousands were traveling to Jerusalem for the festival; they thought it strange that expectant crowds were gathered along the streets for their arrival. The crowds studied them closely as the parties reached the city gate but soon paid no attention to them once they came near enough to tell who they were. They were waiting to catch a glimpse of The Resurrector.
“Hosanna!” someone shouted.
All eyes turned, and quickly all were standing.
“Hosanna!” cried another man with an old, Hebrew voice.
The crowd moved closer, narrowing the street as they tried to catch a glimpse of the man who had just crested the horizon.
More voices shouted - this time in Greek. “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the Name of the Lord.”
In this holy city, it was He that was most sacred.
“Do you hear this?” scowled a prophetic Pharisee to one of his friends. “The whole world has gone after him!”
As Jesus rode through the crowd the frenzy settled and the people marveled. He looked right at them, accepting their praise. Here was a king who was paraded through the street on a donkey's colt, not a warhorse. Here was a king whose parade was not for taking life, but for giving it. He knew what awaited him, but for the joy set before him, he rode on.