Palm Sunday

Last summer, I really fell in love with the word, “Hosanna.” There is something so beautiful about a word that can proclaim so simply an adulation that is so profound. Reserved for a king — THE King and the Master! We would be in the chapel, praying and singing, and that was the only word I wanted to sing. Even still, in adoration, if I could cry out, “Hosanna!!!” my heart would be happy. Somehow, a whisper seems to make do… I always imagine the Lord to know how I desire to act, even when it’s not really appropriate.

Suffice it to say, I’ve been anticipating Palm Sunday for MONTHS. I was so antsy in the church, ready to go out and come back in, to hold my palm and sing Hosanna, to follow the Cross back in, and celebrate. As a Catholic and an artist, I treasure symbolism and deeper meaning. I love the idea of a palm branch being representative of something that reaches up and out, or thinking about how it was used to fan royalty as they reclined. Then, I learned from Matt Maher’s reflection on Palm Sunday that palms were symbols of rebellion.

A word and a symbol, and even still, they didn’t truly understand. I hope I am able to learn to hail the Lord as a King, not a rebellious leader. That I will adore Him because He loves more than anyone I have ever encountered, not because He has the power to perform great signs. I want to follow Him because He desires for me to be with Him, not because I want to see His victorious conquest over those with whom I disagree.

But when I DO see His victory — as we all will, this week — I pray that I remember that He is greater than anything I could ever imagine, His plans far exceed anything I could dream, and His victory means more than I will ever understand.

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