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Time passes. I’ve been at my home village for some months, helping my mama since the sudden death of my papa. From time to time I hear about Jesus’ travels and teaching. I wonder when I will see Him again and have the privilege of sitting at the feet of this wonderful Teacher. He’s already showed me so much about myself, giving me answers and meeting the emotional needs of my heart. His love has given me peace, rest, comfort, acceptance, assurance, belonging, and hope.
Every Sabbath I sit with the women at the synagogue and listen to the writings of the law and the prophets. There are many Scriptures I don’t understand, such as God’s promises to restore the kingdom to Israel. This morning an elder read from the prophet Zechariah, “And the Lord shall be king over all the earth. Jerusalem shall be safely inhabited. Those left of all nations shall go up from year to year to worship the king, the Lord of hosts, and to keep the feast of tabernacles.”
When the service is over at the Synagogue I set out for home. I ponder the morning’s scripture. When will Jesus take David’s throne and reign as King? That day by the Jordan River when I witnessed Jesus baptism I knew there was something different about the Man. As I’ve listened to His teaching and witnessed His miracles I am convinced that Jesus is the Messiah, the anointed son of God. It is nearing Passover season. I plan to be in Jerusalem next Sabbath. No doubt Jesus will be there.
The following day I’m standing in the doorway enjoying the afternoon breeze when I hear shouting in the distance. Slowly a crowd comes into view on the road south of my mother’s cottage. Curiosity compels me to venture closer. Grabbing my shawl from the peg by the door I holler to mama that I’ll be back before sunset, then hasten down the pathway leading to the main road. Could this be some sort of uprising against the Romans? Seems like I’m always wondering something.
The noise of the crowd intensifies, but I can’t see what is happening. Drawing closer I realize the crowd is composed of men, women, and children, some waving palm branches. They are shouting praises of hosannas and alleluias. Trailing at the rear of the procession I still wonder what is going on. Scanning the faces around me I search for someone I can ask, but seeing no one I know I plod along following the crowd, but alone with my thoughts. Suddenly a Scripture flashes into my mind; another one of those verses from Zachariah. “Rejoice greatly O daughter of Zion. Shout, O daughter of Jerusalem. Behold, thy King cometh unto thee. He is just and having salvation; lowly and riding upon a donkey and upon a colt the foal of a donkey.”
Could it be that his was a coronation procession? Could Jesus be riding into Jerusalem? I have to know. Scrambling up the bank beside the road I half run, stumbling through the weeds and over rocks, getting my ankles scratched from briars. I come to a rise where I can look down, and there in the midst of the crowd I see a man seated upon a donkey. He must be Jesus. Unable to contain my mounting excitement I wave my hands and shout, “Great are You Lord and greatly to be praised! Praise the King of Israel, Alleluia!”
At that moment I see Jesus look toward me and wave back. My heart is drawn toward this man who has picked me from the crowd and acknowledged my praise. “You are my King and I will serve You forever!” I shout. I know Jesus has heard my words and that He understands my allegiance to His kingdom.
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