Fickle.  That is the word that I think of every Palm Sunday. 

We are a fickle people. 

On Palm Sunday, Jesus triumphantly entered Jerusalem.  People spread their cloaks on the road before Him.  Tree branches were cut down and placed in His path.  Blessings were shouted for the “Son of David.”  The whole city was stirred.  Make no mistake, this was an uproar.  “Who is this?” the people asked.  “This is Jesus, the Prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.”  (Matthew 21: 8-11)

It is a glorious scene.  Jesus is recognized here on Earth.  When you read the words, you can almost feel the mass of humanity celebrating in the streets. You can hear the roar of the crowd.

A few days later, it would still be a mass of humanity, it would still be a roaring of the crowd.  It would be the same people, with the same electricity, but for a different reason.  Bowing to political pressure, the same crowd would turn Jesus over to die.

The magnitude of this never ceases to amaze me.

Fickle.

And all too human.  We can be superficial. We can turn the other way when things do not seem to be going as we predicted.  We do this in our relationships, we do this in our churches, we do this in our jobs, we do this in our life.

And the fact that Jesus still willingly died for us, fully understanding our humanity, and all that entails, is nothing short of miraculous to me.  THAT IS GRACE, a million-fold.

So we celebrate Palm Sunday this upcoming Sunday, remembering that those who celebrated Jesus would turn him over to die in just a few days time.  We remember that those “people” are us.  

And we pledge to do better for the Savior that fully accepts us as we are.