If He is King

Palm Sunday carries a kind of beauty that is easy to be drawn to. There is movement in it. There is anticipation. There is a sense that something long hoped for is finally stepping into view.

Jesus does not arrive with a warhorse or a throne. He comes gently, right into the middle of the people. He allows Himself to be seen, and He receives their worship. He is the King they have been waiting for, even if He does not look like the kind of King they expected.

Some of my earliest memories of this day feel light and joyful. I can still remember walking down the church aisle as a child, waving palm branches with excitement, singing songs of praise with a full voice, caught up in the moment, surrounded by others doing the same. It felt celebratory and important. It felt good.

But I did not yet understand what the week would hold. I didn’t know how quickly the tone would shift or feel the weight of what was coming. I simply joined the celebration.

And in many ways, I still recognize that same instinct in myself. It’s easy to step into the parts of faith that feel bright and visible. It’s natural to respond to the moments that feel hopeful… the ones that look like victory, or invite us to lift our voices and declare who He is.

We are drawn to the highlight reel…

We gather for the entrance.

We celebrate the arrival.

We join the crowd that says yes, this is our King.

But this moment doesn’t stay there, does it? There is a question that rises from the city, and it shifts the mood just enough to be uncomfortable

Who is this?

Not everyone is asking because they are ready to worship. Some are asking because they are suddenly filled with doubt. Some are asking because they are watching someone else’s bold faith. Some are asking because they can sense that if the answer is true, something in their world may have to change.

And I begin to wonder where I would be as the story moves forward…

Where would I be when the celebration quiets and the tension rises?

What would I say when He is betrayed?

Would I hide my face when He is beaten?

Would I try to comfort when He cries out to His Father and receives no reply?

They are hard questions to sit with. Because if I am honest, I want to believe I would stay close. I want to believe I would remain steady and faithful, that my praise would not waver when the story becomes uncomfortable or costly.

But I also know how quickly fear can change the way we respond… I know how easily we step back when things no longer look the way we hoped they would… I know how tempting it is to stay where faith feels light, and to quietly distance ourselves when it begins to ask more of us.

And still, Palm Sunday holds this tension without rushing past it. It holds the joy of recognition, and it gently points toward the depth of surrender.

Because if Jesus is King, it does not only shape how I praise Him in the crowd. It shapes where I stand when the story becomes harder to follow.

If He is King, it reaches into the places I have learned to manage. It touches the areas where I have quietly decided how things will go. It asks me to loosen my grip on what has felt necessary to hold.

And I can feel the resistance rise even as I say it. I want Him as King. I want the hope. I want the assurance that He is who He says He is.

But I also notice there are situations where I welcome Him, but still keep certain things just within reach. There are moments when I trust Him, but only as long as it does not cost me more than I am prepared to give. And, there are places where I praise Him, but hope He won’t ask me to give up what I am still holding onto for security.

I struggle with the feeling that I need to surrender control of my own life, but something keeps leading me to this simple, steady truth…

If He is the King, then I am not.

And somehow, that does not feel like loss. It’s beginning to feel like relief.

Because if He is the King, I don’t have to hold everything together. I don’t have to carry the weight of every outcome or protect every piece of my life on my own.

If He is the King, I cannot lose.

And still, the question lingers, not as pressure, but as invitation.

What am I afraid I will lose if I fully let Jesus be King in my life today?

And perhaps just as honestly…

Where will I be when following Him asks more of me than celebration?

Because the same Jesus who entered the crowd with humility is the One who walks through suffering with purpose. He is not unsettled by my hesitation. He is not surprised by my doubt. He remains steady, present, and worthy of my trust, not only in the moments when hope feels bright, but also in the quiet places where I am afraid.

Take some time this week to be intentional. Walk with Him toward the cross… read, listen, write and consider your life if He is King.

Be happy 🧡