A poem entitled Palm Sunday, by Malcolm Guite
Now to the gate of my Jerusalem, the seething holy city of my heart, the Savior comes. But will I welcome Him? Oh crowds of easy feelings make a start; They raise their hands, get caught up in the singing, and think the battle is won.Too soon they’ll find the challenge, the reversal He is bringing changes their tune. I know what lies behind the surface flourish that so quickly fades; Jesus, come break my resistance and make me your home.
Painting, Palm Sunday by Kai Althoff
Readers: Kristen Cavallo and Phil Dawson
Music by Ryan Corbitt