Praise God for the Unexpected Triumphal Entry
Devotional Scripture: Mark 11:1-11
Key Verse: “And they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it, and he sat on it.” Mark 11:7
The goal is not to sit atop the worst-looking vehicle or an obviously low-budget float in a ticker-tape parade. The goal is to ride in style, claiming the envy of onlookers as you wave with both practiced technique and half-smiling humility. You know, the kind of smile that says I didn’t choose this life; it chose me, and you’re welcome.
If it were me, I’d pick an Audi R8 performance Quattro Spyder as my chariot of choice, with the top down, of course. (Yes, I just googled “most expensive convertible.”) And if it rained on my parade, I’d make sure someone sat next to me holding an umbrella because hello, you can’t handle your own umbrella on the back end of a two hundred-thousand-dollar vehicle; so if you’re interested in applying for the position, just let me know.
Anyway, when I see the words “Triumphal Entry” on the page of my Bible, this is where my mind wanders. But Jesus didn’t choose the most impressive ride for his public debut into Jerusalem. He chose the lowest, most humble-looking thing He could find and sat atop a young, unimposing donkey. And I’d like to know, did the crowd think that was weird?
Holy Land donkeys were (I have no idea if they still are) apparently of a smaller variety. Even when the donkey was full-grown, a grown man would have to bend his knees as he rode, so his feet didn’t drag on the ground. But Scripture tells us that Jesus sat on a colt, meaning this donkey was likely even smaller. Though I don’t want to picture it like this, Jesus probably looked awkward.
How low to the ground could He get as the crowd pronounced His kingship? I have a feeling none of this was as they expected. Weren’t military victors supposed to ride in on regal steeds?
Christ Didn’t Come to be Our Political Savior
But Jesus didn’t care how He looked. Christ’s mind centered on one thing: satisfying the Word of God. And according to Zechariah 9:9, David’s offspring—the One sent to reign on high forever—would enter Jerusalem, “humbled and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”
As He rode, the hopeful crowd spread their cloaks before Him, hailing Him as the One they’d been waiting for. The One sent to free them from Rome’s captivity and set them with ease on a path to world dominance. How lucky were they to be there to see it happen?
And this time, Jesus didn’t shut them up. He didn’t correct them. He was indeed the One they’d been waiting for—the true King of Israel—and it was time to declare it. Not because He was about to stampede Herod’s palace but rather, the gates of hell. Christ’s choice of a donkey over a steed emulates that He wasn’t there to do as they expected; He was there to do as God intended. He was there to save them from their sins.
“Hosanna” means, “Save, I pray,” and those lining the streets cried it with vigor. But save them from what? That’s the question. To ask Jesus to save us from a moment in time, a disastrous incident or the confines of government restriction doesn’t touch the real problem. But to ask Jesus to save us from ourselves, and free us from the confines of sin, changes everything.
Sure, we have pending issues we’d love to discuss with someone in real power. But there is no more significant issue than the state of our souls. Begging the question, have you only gone so far as to ask Jesus to save you from a problem? Or have you asked Jesus to save your wretched soul?
Christ didn’t enter Jerusalem on a donkey to be a political hero, and that’s not his goal in our lives either. Christ entered Jerusalem on a donkey to claim His right as our eternal Savior. His main concern is not our comfort; His main concern is our commitment. And to be sure, that’s not at all what they expected.
Christ Came to be Our Eternal Savior
I can’t help but wonder what the crowd expected Him to do next. He wore no sword on His side. His belt was one of righteousness, not leather. He had no dagger tucked deep in the folds of His robe. Jesus didn’t need one. His word alone could pierce the heart of man deeper than any sword could. Besides, a legion of angels stood ready at all times for His call.
Did the people assume He’d march straight to the palace, demanding their freedom just as Moses had done? Did they expect a series of plagues rending Caesar with no choice but to let them go? I wonder. But where would they go?
But do you know what Jesus did next? He went back to Bethany, most likely to the home of his friends Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. And the next day, He cleared the temple. His indignation was not foremost with Rome, but His own people for not honoring God as they should have with heart, mind, and soul.
The crowd assumed Rome was the problem. “Save us,” they cried! But Rome was not Israel’s biggest problem. Sin was Israel’s biggest problem. So Jesus didn’t do as they expected—He did more. Here’s the incredible thing about God: He doesn’t do as we hope; He does more. Why? Because our expectations are too low.
Often, we look no further than five feet in front of us and go, “That, I want that.” It’s what Eve did, and we’ve been following in her footsteps ever since. But God knows what we need. Therefore, He didn’t save Israel from Roman dominance that week. He didn’t offer them a quick fix; Jesus offered Himself instead.
I have no doubt that week ended much different than any in the boisterous crowd lining the streets of Jerusalem ever expected. (Praise the Lord!) What a gift it is that God doesn’t stop at our expectations but persistently takes us further, lifting our eyes to heaven and doing more than we can imagine.
Hear this, my friend, the King of Kings sat awkwardly on a donkey for us. The great I AM carried a thorn-packed cross for us. The One who calms the seas and tells the lightning bolts where to go took the wrath of God for us. Bleeding to death, Jesus didn’t do as anyone expected—He did so much more.
So if God isn’t doing as you hope right now, then rest in this: He’s doing something you never expected. Something more than you can imagine. Perhaps He’s drawing you closer. Maybe He’s opening the door of salvation or furthering your faith or pouring out His mercy and grace just as He did during Passover week two-thousand years ago. When humbled and riding on a donkey, Christ entered Jerusalem to surrender His life that we might know Him and the abounding grace of God forever. And I guarantee you, no one expected that.
